on toothy hills

and toothless hookers

I know why I put riding off for so long.

Once you take a break, it’s easier to just keep braking. Squeeze the brakes hard enough and you end up stopped.

I stopped for almost a month.

Stopping stopping?

Well, that took some effort.

Once I started riding, my lips turned up into a smile and my belly shook with laughter.

Ah Jimmy, what were you thinking? You love this!

It was bliss leaving the cottage. With two quick pedal strokes I flew down the hill of the campground past the seasonal campers and off into the woods.

Just past the German’s land I remembered why I didn’t want to ride:

Baby head hill was in front of me as janky and slippery as a sixty five year old anorexic hooker with a gallon of astroglide.

It was neither attractive nor a welcome sight.

And despite this, I started to spin up her moist curves.

My heart raced and legs began to strain.

But holy shit, did it ever feel good to move.

Sure, I had a lot more hills to face that day, but I think that was the point - up the hill and down the …