Late Spring Surprises

...and I haven't had a new blog post since April. Ooops.  Darn you, life, getting in the way.

Many times have I composed prose and poems, haiku and homilies, while riding/walking/washing dishes/playing in the garden.  And all those posts are in my head -- sometimes I ran out of time to post, sometimes I ran out of energy, mostly life jumped up and demanded my immediate attention.

So my new rule of thumb: Update blog 1st, then social networking sites.  There, that's better.  Priorities, like a new bra, occasionally need re-adjusting.


We've had 2 opportunities in the last week to be stand-up people.

Last week at Costco we found someone's smartphone in a basket in the parking lot. We figured out how to work the phone but couldn't find the emergency #.  So I called the entry called "Mom," and Mom called the daughter who came to the store and picked it up.  She had no idea where she'd left it and was pretty upset about it. She was very relieved and thankful that we "did the right thing."  Like we'd do the wrong thing...former Scouts that we are.

That felt great. We're big fans of happy endings.

Today a couple miles into our easy tandem toot we were passed by an older, classic motorcycle.  A mile further down the country road we see a dead buck in the middle of it, the motorcycle in the grass on the side, and the rider limping up a nearby driveway.  No one answered at the house so I called 911 & his wife.  He was skinned up bad, lots of blood but nothing apparently broken, and he was alert.  His helmet did its job, even though his face, nose and mouth had a fair amount of blood. (Good thing I'm not squeamish.) He insisted we not hang around, his pride talking, but we know better.

Chris and a neighbor who saw the commotion moved the carcass off the road, and pushed the cycle to one house over.  (That pretty bike is probably toast.  The handlebars were mangled, it was leaking oil, and who knows what else was damaged.)  We stayed around until the paramedics came, then went back to the road to find the wife. She was the driver with the anguished look on her face.  We waved her over and pointed to her husband.  As she parked a fire truck and 2 CHPs arrived.  We gave our report to the officers, got on our bike, and rode about 30 more pleasant and thoroughly enjoyable miles.

So that felt great, too, being first responders and helping this poor guy. I felt bad that his bike is broken, sad that a fat young 2-point buck (still in velvet) died, and glad this guy is going to live to ride again.

I wonder what's next?