1804

September 10, 2001

Haybales. Fenceposts. Rivers. Leaves. Curves. Hills. These are the most pleasing things in the world, no?

This evening, I rode north of town on highway 1804 for about fifteen miles. The daylight hours are getting fewer, and I had timed my ride so that I would be back just as the sun set. Starting at 7:15, I figured I could ride half an hour and turn around. As I rode, I did nothing but descend toward the Missouri. It was a fast ride that I enjoyed immensely, but I realized I would have to turn around sooner to battle the hills and the encroaching darkness.

The climb was exhausting but pleasant. The long shadows and cool air pleased me to no end. After a few miles my truck came into view, parked along the side of the highway. I loaded up my bike, cranked up the stereo, and went for a short, aimless drive as the sun disappeared for the day.