The God of Mondays

After yesterday’s century ride, I had a very short commute today. I drove Mrs. Rootchopper’s car to a dealer in Arlington to get an emissions inspection done on it. Car traffic was extraordinarily light. If every day was like this, I might actually drive my car to work.

Not really.

The dealer is three miles from work on the Custis Trail. I pulled Little Nellie from the trunk of the car and reached to put on my cycling gloves. I had two right handed gloves. The god of Mondays was messing with my head.

The ride to work is easy because it is mostly downhill.The ride back to the dealer was an entirely different matter. After slogging up the hill from Rosslyn, I was about halfway there, the sun was shining, and it was pouring rain. Sheets of water.

Ah, summer in DC. Rain just happens. We don’t need no stinking clouds.

It was also quite hot so the rain felt great. (This is what bicyclists say when they know they look stupid riding in a deluge.)

Five minutes later the rain stopped.

There still were no clouds.

I blame the god of Mondays.

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