Here's to Friday Afternoons
Last Friday in the Ohio Valley was one of those days where you feel the first cold brace of autumn. I had just put in a long week at work, but that didn't stop me from sailing through a busy intersection due to a nicely-timed green left arrow. As I turned onto Sycamore St., which happens to be lined with huge, old Oaks, I sat up and just looked around as I coasted through an empty intersection. It was one of those rare moments when you feel like a Greek god, and if I was destined to ride down that street for all eternity with the first leaves falling and the faint barking of a dog in the background, that would have been fine with me.