I got a bit of an earlier start this morning. Maybe I got dressed faster or took a faster shower but somehow, I got to the station way early and saw the early train come through. I looked at it, saw that it stopped two stops short of where I needed to be, weighed my options and got on anyway. I could always wait it out at the next station, or I could whip out my handy dandy smart phone (Evo! Android! Love it!) and plot a new route. Weighed the options on that one and somehow decided that this was going to be a fantastic idea. Cause, uh, the Bachman Lake station lets off at Harry Hines and Northwest Highway and that's always a great place for a tiny white chick on a pricey bike to be before the sun comes up. This is what I said about decision-making.
See: Me. Pedaling down Northwest Highway. Brilliant.
I survived the whole mile and a half that was expected of me, seriously going up on-ramps and the works with angry cars screaming past at 50 miles an hour and probably none of them any more awake than I was. Then it was a quick jaunt onto a supershady side road. Super shady. Pitch dark, (thankfully) light traffic, and a shitty shitty road that wasn't so much road as a long series of potholes someone was nice enough to cover with a new layer of pavement. Twenty years ago. I think the look of utter panic is going to be etched into my face for a while. This was definitely not my brightest move.
The payoff was that more than half the total ride was going to be on a trail. This wasn't the best trail in the Dallas area, but it was a trail. No cars. Fairly recently paved. It clearly thought very highly of itself, advertising "river views" every few feet—forgetting the seriously major road that ran on the other side, disrupting what it felt was a very idyllic journey. Every quarter mile or so there were also resistance weight machines? Really odd. I wonder who keeps them up, and makes sure no parts get jacked. And the whole thing runs right behind the stables out here so signs are posted everywhere as a warning for "Equestrian Crossing"
And then there was an armadillo. Like, right there beside the path an armadillo and I'd have a picture but my darn cameraphone has ceased to function and I'm taking it in today because I have missed way too many shots. This was an honest to christ, hand to god live armadillo! Not a roadkill armadillo!
Why did the armadillo cross the road?
Because the chicken told him it could be done!
|Not my picture, but essentially what I saw.|
Just earlier in the morning.
Um, yeah, so that kind of made the whole thing worth it.