It was one of those perfect mornings. We’d had some rain overnight which cooled things off a bit so the temperature was in the low 20’s (about 70 or so for you Fahrenheit folks out there). The remnants of the storm clouds were still present in the early morning sky so I couldn't describe it as a “cloudless day” but it was obviously clearing and there was no need to worry about getting a soaking – at least not for the next few hours. The roads were wet though and the front wheel threw up a bit of spray, dampening my jeans from the knees down. I don’t know why but I love that feeling; the coolness of the spray coming up seems to be in perfect counterbalance to the heat of the sun on the rest of the body. Refreshing would be the term I’d use to describe the sensation, mentally as well as physically.
I wasn’t going very far, just 20 kilometres to the golf course, but I was sorely tempted just to keep going, riding into the sun until it was directly overhead and then turning around and following it back towards home as it set. I felt great, the ponies wanted to be let out, and a 300+ kilometre ride would have been an ideal way to celebrate a perfect late spring day.
Sadly I had a date to keep with a tournament and had to turn in at the club. The way I played however tells me I should have followed my first instincts and ridden as far away, as fast as I could, and never looked back – at least until sundown.
Oh well, until the next time.