Berries, splashes, giggles.

to the nth degree

The day was clear, sunny. Warm, but not too hot. Friends arrived just as I was finishing up my morning coffee. Brent, ready to go as usual, in all his cycling garb. Jake, still clad in the flannel that he slept in, the alpacas running down the hill to greet this strange-looking, long-bearded, plaid creature. And Jalon, stumbling up the driveway, styrofoam coffee cup in hand, still half-asleep. 10am was apparently too early for him on a Sunday.

We set off for Rothrock State Forest in two cars, bikes hanging off the tailgate of Brent’s truck. All Salsas. “All we need’s the chips,” remarked someone. I don’t remember who.




A road closure caused us to take the long way around, and we were nearly an hour late meeting Allison in the parking lot. Luckily, she didn’t mind. We rolled in, smoke pouring out of the hood of Brent’s old Chevy…

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