On this ride a beer was my reward. The ride was five miles. From my house I pass not a single street light, hardly a car, and with a heat index of 104, no joggers, dogs or baby strollers. My Greenway, or MUP, snakes between a golf course, a creek and a CSX line. Ghosts from our nation's deadliest train wreck haunt this path. At Dutchman's curve I always tip my cap and bow in reverence. The remaining witness to the tragedy, a bridge, is now car free and the Greenway terminus. It is the neighbor to a once snazzy shopping center, a car crowded cornucopia of convenience. All the cyclist needs is a basket. My destination is a U shaped niche breaking the long line of stores. A small fountain there is surrounded by a jeweler, a Mexican Restaurant, a cigar store, a burger/gyro joint and Starbucks. I lean my unlocked bike against the window of Starbucks. I've never eaten at the clean, well lit burger/gyro place but a bottled beer with tax is $2.17. The beer stands in an ice filled tub next to the register. I keep one eye on my bike. Outside are shared metal tables where only Christmas lights separate you from Starbucks. The air is still and if I close my eyes I am unaware of the jeweler. The fountain has water, stones and a misunderstood Japanese maple. Thankfully the fountain is on. From my pocket I pull a 3x5 Moleskin, a Venus 2B and reading glasses. A table away in the Starbucks section I watch over his shoulder on his IPAD a video of one wanting to be in the music industry by one pretending to be in the music industry. Her song has no melody. I'm in a perfect position to stare at my bike. I've had it less than a week. A coccinella red 1984 Motobecane tricked out to be a racer with desirable Campy parts and tiny tires. It's scary fast. It had some rust. I had some luck and $50. Inspired, I make a sketch. I finished my beer, four Japanese women enter the cigar store, the jeweler locks up, my neighbors lives turn dramatic. "It's a bad story that could make a good movie!" maintains the singer. Starbucks is slow. The ride home is always rewarding and except for all the on going business of nature one can almost feel alone. I quickly approach the spot where the railroad bends and bow my head.
