Cycle 6

I did it! For the very first time in my life, I went riding on a trail - hootin' and hollerin' like a cowboy. I must have swallowed a hundred bugs. What sheer delight. I even made it to The Brickyard, which is the playground for black diamond riders and a graveyard for bricks from a factory long gone. But that was three quarters of the way through. By then, roots and sand became serious sore spots (literally). The air got so thick you could cut it with a jack knife. I had trouble swallowing. A little heatstroke. Naseous. My body felt wild. Sidebar: I'm forming a punk band and calling it The Heatstrokes. It will feature Zach Wylde (yes, I met him once) smoking his guitar and me rapping like Chuck D. Anyway, the ride rocked my world. If I squinted, I was deep in the woods. I rode on the narrowest path and, in squint mode, thought we were in a swamp. Like maybe a crocodile was eyeing me for lunch. Next time it was a forest. A mountain. Then we'd hit pavement. Me and the dude, who sounds like New York circa '79. I had trouble getting back what with the temperature rising after noon. It was a rather late start to get on a trail around the world.