1990, or so, in the foothills of Fort Collins. I was on my regular training route, 30 miles or so. A wicked cloud appeared from a mountain top. A storm was a brewing, big time. A bit of rain, then graupel. The violence erupted with a pummeling of hail. Certainly there would be suffering. Gulf ball sized brutality was upon me; God Bless the fact I was 5-10 miles from home! I searched for shelter and it came by way of a covered patio, behind a lovely house.
The storm only lasted a short while, as is the case in my unpredictable, sweet Colorado. The descent was a mild spin of the cranks, home was an easy distance. As I rode, the sun was at my back, as is the case in my unpredictable, sweet Colorado.
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Author:
James Michael (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2023 20:13
- Category: Short story
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Good write JM. I cycled to the Co-op and back! Cue for a poem from me?!
Do you have Co-op shops in USA?
Cycling, good for you! Bet you can get a basket on the handlebars for your little piggies. That’s something to write home about!
My son and I ride to a Co-op that has all kinds of cool shops. The one I love has the best coffee this side of the Mississippi!
Ours are too expensive! lol.
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