Gracias amigas

I kinda like to bike. In the summer, when it's not too hot, I bike around town as much as I can. It makes me feel virtuous for not using fossil fuels and I optimistically think that it also uses calories.

Although the second thought may be fallacious.

Sometimes I ride just for fun, or exercise, or both.

My favourite riding buddy is Ellen, of  The Other Foote fame. 

She rides a little bit faster than me so it challenges me.

Which is good. 
Most of the time.

Brenda came along this time. 

Brenda, whose middle name is Superwoman.

We were riding a lovely winding road through farm country. Things were going pretty well until we passed the rose gardens and picked up a sweet chocolate Lab, who thought his ultimate destiny in life was to be our riding companion. Brenda picked up some speed and the Lab matched her, pace for pedal. The faster she went, the faster he went, tongue hanging out and spraying slobber as he slipped her adoring sidelong glances.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to run with you forever and ever and ever."

Ellen and I hung back, laughing all the way and me wishing I was clever enough to take photos on the fly. Only I knew if I tried I would end up in an ignominious heap on the side of the road. We were a little worried that maybe someone would miss him, but he stoically ignored our pleas for him to Go home.

A rather fast mile or so later, we were passing a couple of houses surrounded by fields and out ran not one, not two, but three rather fierce-looking dogs, barking and baring their teeth. Brenda kept pedaling fast, Ellen found hidden reserves (apparently) and there was I, surrounded by snarling canines.

I yelled at them, but they were un-fazed.

I was afraid that they would lunge at me and knock me off my trusty Trek, so I slowed down, all the time yelling at the dogs and my so-called friends.

Eventually, I got far enough past their house that they let me go free. 

The dogs, not my friends.

So-called friends.

When I finally caught up to them, the so-called friends, they told me that it was the fate of the slowest rider to deal with mad dogs.

Gee, I guess I forgot to read that memo.

Chocolate Lab stayed with us for a bit longer and then decided we weren't fun any more.

Or something.

Heck, I decided we weren't any fun any more.

Some of us didn't want to face the dogs on the return trip, so the consensus was to do a loop. In my imaginary loop, we would follow the highway (the nice, flat highway) back to the car.

But no, I was misled. 

We did the big loop home. 

The longer, hillier loop. 

Against the wind. 

Shanghaied, I call it.

I moaned and complained all the way.
I know it was only sixteen miles and for some of us that is only a stroll in the park, but me, I have to fight for every mile of it. 

If, if, I say, I go riding with these two again, I shall carry mace.

For the dogs, you ask?

Sure, that's it. For the dogs.

Here we are, mission completed, looking about as bad as we ever look.

Sweaty, flushed, bedraggled.

Brenda, of course, hardly broke a sweat or ruffled her hairdo.

P.S. Hi girlfriends, did you like it? See you next week? I'll bring the mace.

P.P.S. I am off to Utah with one of my CCNZ buddies and his wife, to see a couple of other friends whom we have not seen for 35 years or more. Should be interesting. I'll keep ya posted.