It rained earlier this week. The air smelled strongly of dog shit and I frequently checked the soles of my boots to ensure that I hadn't inadvertently stepped in a pile of the disturbing substance.
No, it wasn't me...just Georgia.
Since returning to Fort Gordon, life has been just like WLC, Army. I've had slightly more responsibility at work forcing me to work a few extra hours during the week and put the needs of others before my own. I even got to work through a weekend by moving all my personal belongings from one barracks room to another and attending an M16 qualification range.
Fortunately, I was rewarded the next weekend with a 4-day pass which I took full advantage of by flying to Chicago to see The Trish and her feline companion, Mr. Neville Thatcher. Chicago was piss cold, but beautiful nonetheless. We opted to be tourists on a Sunday and rode a rocket of an elevator to the top of the Sears Tower to catch a glimpse of the city from 103 floors above ground level. The sky was clear and the city lay below us in all its urban majesty and glory. After our return to Earth, The Trish coughed up five bucks to a bum and we ate lunch.
Good times.
The riding of late has been somewhat scant. I did ride on a weekend who's date I cannot remember and was able to muster enough strength to break the chain off of my single speed on a down pedal two-thirds of the way into my ride. The walk back to the truck was long and I lazily have not ordered or purchased a new chain. Today, I showed up for the 0830 Warehouse ride and got in a wonderful spin with about eight other riders. One rider, who I spent most of the ride talking to, had just moved to Georgia from WVU where he had been attending grad school for the past five years. We swapped war stories from our life and times in the great state of West Virginny and I promised him a smorgasbord of trail information in regard to his new home in the durrrrty south. The ride itself was tough as Nate led us up four significant climbs that dropped me to the back of the pack and left my young body in confusion and fatigue.
Seven solid weeks out of the saddle is not good. Not good.
In other news, I will be flying to Fort Meade, MD on Sunday to attend a job related school for the next three weeks. I will also seek out various bike shops, trails, and pubs in the area to shake hands and prepare for my unofficial change of station to my new home.
Reality or fantasy...hopefully we will know in a few short weeks.
Get Riding!
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Journeys: Ending With A Crash (Bang)
Two weeks of classroom instruction, a week long field exercise, and a final week of sitting on my ass. The warrior leader course (a.k.a. sergeant school) is now over, and yes readers, I am now a warrior leader. I even have an official looking diploma.
The atmosphere at the graduation ceremony was one of jubilation and glee. "Hell" was over and we were finally allowed to return to our respective homes and booze things up with our respective drinks of choice. After the ceremony I hopped into a van with a few other Soldiers of the 513th, grabbed lunch, and set sail for Fort Gordon. My belly was full and my eye lids were heavy. I unbuckled my seat belt, laid down in my seat and promptly fell asleep.
The crash was mostly subconscious for me. I was dreamily flung forward into the back of the seat in front of me, creating a hasty mold of my sleeping form in the gray material, before falling in a heap on the van floor. I wasn't entirely awake at this point, but the screams from the front seats grabbed my attention. I opened my eyes and then the situation finally became very real. At first I wasn't sure of, well, a lot of things. Was the van upside down, was I dead, was I upside down, was I paralyzed, am I still in WLC? Fortunately, I was uninjured and sat up ready to react to the possible destruction in front of me.
After an initial "freak out" session we discovered that everyone was alive and it appeared that the only injuries were a busted lip and a sprained ankle. We Soldiers exited the van and took note of the results of the event from the side of the interstate. It appeared that we had rear ended a large truck while changing lanes in preparation for our exit from I-285 to I-20. The front of the van was accordioned back to the front of the frame and the windshield was shattered. I was informed that we had struck the truck while we were traveling at approximately 60 miles per hour. The van was totalled.
We stood in the cold staring at the destruction that now blocked two lanes of traffic waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. When they did they determined that I, for one, was free of injury, but the sprained ankle would have to be transported to the hospital for further evaluation.
The adrenaline had finally subsided and I could now feel the cold of the air seeping into my skin. As we prepared to leave the scene in various other vehicles I took a moment took look into the wondering eyes of motorist goose necking past us in the open lane of traffic. I recalled multiple occasions where I had been seated in a safe and secure vehicle my eyes glued to a traffic accident and its victims.
How did I feel to be on the receiving end of all the stares?
Lucky.
The atmosphere at the graduation ceremony was one of jubilation and glee. "Hell" was over and we were finally allowed to return to our respective homes and booze things up with our respective drinks of choice. After the ceremony I hopped into a van with a few other Soldiers of the 513th, grabbed lunch, and set sail for Fort Gordon. My belly was full and my eye lids were heavy. I unbuckled my seat belt, laid down in my seat and promptly fell asleep.
The crash was mostly subconscious for me. I was dreamily flung forward into the back of the seat in front of me, creating a hasty mold of my sleeping form in the gray material, before falling in a heap on the van floor. I wasn't entirely awake at this point, but the screams from the front seats grabbed my attention. I opened my eyes and then the situation finally became very real. At first I wasn't sure of, well, a lot of things. Was the van upside down, was I dead, was I upside down, was I paralyzed, am I still in WLC? Fortunately, I was uninjured and sat up ready to react to the possible destruction in front of me.
After an initial "freak out" session we discovered that everyone was alive and it appeared that the only injuries were a busted lip and a sprained ankle. We Soldiers exited the van and took note of the results of the event from the side of the interstate. It appeared that we had rear ended a large truck while changing lanes in preparation for our exit from I-285 to I-20. The front of the van was accordioned back to the front of the frame and the windshield was shattered. I was informed that we had struck the truck while we were traveling at approximately 60 miles per hour. The van was totalled.
We stood in the cold staring at the destruction that now blocked two lanes of traffic waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. When they did they determined that I, for one, was free of injury, but the sprained ankle would have to be transported to the hospital for further evaluation.
The adrenaline had finally subsided and I could now feel the cold of the air seeping into my skin. As we prepared to leave the scene in various other vehicles I took a moment took look into the wondering eyes of motorist goose necking past us in the open lane of traffic. I recalled multiple occasions where I had been seated in a safe and secure vehicle my eyes glued to a traffic accident and its victims.
How did I feel to be on the receiving end of all the stares?
Lucky.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)