Rockport on a Saturday morning.
Another 17 miles in Rockport navigating flooded areas of Memorial Park. It feels a bit like a hamster wheel so I cut out onto the open roads to take my chances amongst the pickup trucks and minivans.
I was going to call in at my favorite coffee shop, “Dough-liciously” , but thought it wiser to race the thunderstorm home.
I made it home dry, parked my bike in the garage, and then the heavens opened. I am feeling quite smug having got my miles in ahead of the weather.
As I was riding along in 86F high humidity, buzzed by enormous butterflies, and avoiding various lizards I noticed my maximum speed was recorded as 16.1 mph. For whatever reason that made me think of an occasion when I was cycling on the A68 at Carter Bar, the border between Scotland and England, and achieved a remarkable 48 mph downhill whilst overtaking a fifth wheel whose driver apparently had more respect for life than younger me.