Rolled out at sunset on the Rawland, the season of night rides has begun in earnest. Temperatures fell through the 50s, and the descent through Arlington was downright chilly, nature's way to telling me I should have worn a long-sleeved base layer and warmer gloves. A crescent moon traveled low in the southern sky.
The kids with Big Lumens were shining obliviously; I had words with a few, and on one occasion resorted to the
, an homage to Vik Banerjee. I was probably flirting with a migraine, I'm not usually that snarky.
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