The sun attacks us with its rays,
Our legs burn as we pedal up the hill.
Summit,
Wind,
Cool, Refreshing Wind.
We've got to stay in line,
Or the cars will get us.
They don't like bikers.
David slows,
John crashes into him.
Crack.
My bike flies into the pile.
Boom.
I fly into the grass.
Cool, Refreshing Grass.
Note: My memory of the crash is slightly different than David's. It doesn't matter too much to me who started the crash, Jonathan or David, because the same thing would have happened to me either way. |
