Last week, it was borderline freezing. This Saturday, it was beautiful, sunny and perfect for the Ray Charles ride headed out of downtown. I've got pictures, but plenty have been posted elsewhere: here and here and lord knows where else. And mine are all off my phone, so, yeah.
Then Sunday morning, after a hell of a rousing storm that night, went sailing with my dad. It was warm and still when we got there, the wind whipped up and we rushed along at a solid 5.5 knots and the clouds came and I burrowed down in a hoodie cause it got damn cold.
That is some serious fog, homes. Can I also say, not fun by any stretch of the imagination. Visibility was reduced to about 100 feet, and that was when there were street lights. This is when I finally checked the signs and saw that the speed limit on Royal is 40 mph. So I started hauling ass, sprinting almost the whole way to do what I could to at least lessen the speed difference between me and the car that would inevitable hit me in the fog.
I'm not entirely convinced I survived the ride. I could be splatted across the pavement and this could all just be an elaborate construct of my psyche a whole lot of Vanilla-Sky-Abre-Los-Ojos bullshit blah blah blah. Plus, the fog got all my clothes wet.
The cool morning did make for a lovely ride home. No where to be, no rush so I took my sweet time and rode the full 18 miles. Beautiful clear sky, mid-80s temp, rolling right along. The blazer I'd worn in the morning was nice, because it had a pocket I could stash my iPod in but come the afternoon it was a little warm for a jacket (had to stick with the tights, that dressed need them if I was going to ride in it). So what's a girl to do?
I needed that ride, and the tunes that came with. Dallas gets under my skin of a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the horrific dating scene. I miss college where, as just a lowest common denominator, everyone was smart, driven and educated. Far as I can tell, it's rare to find just one of the three around here.