"It's like riding a bike."

I suddenly became more wary of trying things I hadn't done in a long time.

Perhaps inspired by the bicycle races whipping through the downtown today, perhaps prompted by the ever more absurd cost of gas, or perhaps because I finally realized I'm running out of time available to take advantage of it, I decided to dust off the old bike and take it for a short spin. Fill up the tires with air at the corner shop, cruise around a little bit before turning back in.

Oh my God.

I looked like I was drunk as I began. Swerve here, quick turn there - I suddenly felt too tall for a bicycle I'd purchased only two years ago. The cars passing me must have wondered what the hell my deal was as I kept putting my feet down on the ground and laughing at myself.

I made it to the store, filled up the tires and headed back, only slightly embarrassed that a car traveling behind me had to wait as I moved. I was going quickly enough - it's not my fault we're not allowed to bike on the sidewalks. Deal, brother car driver.

By the time I made it home (after a quick trip around the block to further acclimate myself), my legs were sore, my back felt strange and I remembered my adolescent fear of curbstones.

But it felt marvelous, all at the same time.

But that whole "riding a bike" analogy? Noooo siree. That doesn't work. 'Cause getting right back onto the bike to give it a ride?

It ain't that easy.
-----------
In other news. I had traveled to a store to pick up a lock for my bike (see how it all comes together?) and was listening to the Red Sox game on the radio. As I pulled into the parking lot, I kept the radio on as I rolled up my windows. An older woman, almost certainly a grandmother, was loading purchases into the car next to me.

"Excuse me, what's the score?"

I was surprised. Pleasantly. Grandma follows her baseball! "I had just turned it on, and they hadn't announced the latest score. Last I knew, it was 3-0 Chicago."

She gave a smirk and I laughed. "I know, it's hurting me too."

The smirk got wider. "Oh no, that's not what that's for."

"Excuse me?" She stared to laugh as it dawned on me. "Please tell me you're a Chicago fan."

She let out a gleeful peal of laughter. "YAAAANKEEEES!"

I laughed. "OK, I'm going to walk away now." She grinned. "Good luck with the rest of the season and the playoffs."

"You too, dear."

The home stretch for the baseball season. Everyone hunkering in. The playful jabs among strangers who know only of each other's rival affiliations.

God, I love baseball in September.