Lonely Playground

My amigo Anthony texted me yesterday, to get out and ride.
It was the prod I needed, within a 1/2 hour I rolled up, and we rolled out.
A good chat down the tow path, we split apart on Harts Lane,  I attacked hills,
he rode back into the Wissahickon.  We were on different bikes, and I had plans to hit punchy hills.

            "The lonely playground"

Gorka, funny to say, an x-teammate, sent me an email, to chat, attached were a couple of his recent photo's he's been working on.  My cameras, and my camera skill had a layer of dust.  It got me out, and just did a bit,  to keep it fresh.   There is a small playground, close to me, I often ride by.
Not a house on the block, and always locked shut.

      I've tried to take pictures of it before.  They've come out flat, and not telling the story, a story that rolls around in my head, and the words, structure has never been,  defined enough to go anywhere with.

It's locked shut, shunned, lonely.  It's nice to think about the playground while I ride.  I dream up stories, and tales, of the site.

The loop I did ride yesterday was not long.  I rolled back toward the coffee shop,  thinking to pass, wave to some cycling peeps, and hit a couple of more punchy hills on the way home.

Anthony and Todd, were there, I hopped the curbed, chatted, Saw, of course other cycling peeps.
I am  happy, lucky, to have that coffee shop close by.   and after a good natured chat; baseball, cycling gear, movies, I was on my way, up a couple of more hills and home.

There is a playground in my head, with monkey bars, and slick metal slide, wobbly horses, a overflowing trash bin,...
just rolling around my mind, as I roll around pedaling the bike, it keeps me occupied.


roll on!   dlowe