I had a recent experience riding under the influence.
Now, I must confess, I used to do this a fair amount in the old days. For example, this was a necessary part of the legendary Beer and Steamers ride. And whenever we toured in Ireland, a pint of Guinness at lunch was de rigeur. Though I did have subsequent complaints from Mrs. D. when my average speed subsequently dropped to about 5 mph. But I’ve cleaned up my act considerably and now the beer is always apres ride.
I have not been without considerable temptation in this area. My company has a Friday afternoon happy hour with live music and good beer. When it comes to freebies, I have no self control. Put me in front of a buffet and it can get downright ugly. I realized that confronted with an free supply of Samuel Adams, I would be like a moth to a flame. So, I’ve always left the merrymakers on Fridays and soldiered on home.
But one Friday, we had a special occasion. Our company, which got bought by a much larger company who I shall call Big Blue, had nonetheless maintained their autonomy up until now. But they finally got absorbed by the corporation losing their uniqueness, hence the party. So I decided to go down and have a beer before riding home. There is a subtle transition that occurs from “stop in and have a beer” to “boogie till the break of day.” One beer led to another, and I was precariously close to making that transition.
I did however realize that I had to make my way home sometime and I had no lights. Besides, they were going to close down about six anyway. So I quaffed my last beer and mounted my faithful bike. It was a rather pleasant experience, actually. I was quite relaxed. Instead of my usual worrying about being run over by SUVs my primary concern was staying on the road. This I managed to do pretty well, except for a close encounter with a mailbox.
After a few miles, I was convinced that the ride was indeed clearing my head.
One of the consequences of imbibing combined with old age is the frequent necessity to answer nature’s call. I can usually make a twelve mile commute without a pit stop, and I came pretty close this time, but there were a couple of extra pints of beer on board and it became clear that a stop was required. After stumbling around in the bushes a bit, I came to the realization that I was perhaps not quite as clearheaded as I had supposed.
But I made it the rest of the way without incident, and decided from now on my mantra would be “bike, then beer, bike, then beer.”
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