For my second time at the veloway, I forgot my fanny pack. What, then, to do with my “valuables” as I ride my mountain bike. I decided to leave them in the car. Just as I was entering the track, I saw the sign about vehicles being broken into, advising people not to leave valuables in the car. Okay, then, a change of plans. I was wearing regular shorts, with pockets. So I load up my pockets with my keys, wallet, and phone. I take the phone so I can call the police if my vehicle gets broken into, as warned.
It doesn’t take long for the contents to weigh my pockets down. With each stride on the bike, they droop below the hem line, swinging like basset hound ears; left, right, left, right. I see the roadrunner, near the “Snake Crossing” sign. He turns his head as I pass; I’m pretty sure he’s giggling at my droopy hound-ear pockets.
Nevertheless, I continue. A bit farther down the track, I hear a peacock; he croons as I and my pockets swish by. I have to reach down and pull up my shorts a bit, as the weight of my pocket items is pulling them down. The peacock croons again; I think he’s agreeing with the roadrunner that my drooping pockets are amusing. He’s laughing out loud, holding nothing back.
Okay, so I won’t make the list of best-dressed bikers. Cheap entertainment for the wildlife, though, and how many people can make that claim?