Cartwheel

There is much debate over the fate of the Georgetown Branch Trail. It is prime real estate connecting Silver Spring with Bethesda.

We do need a better Purple Line—A Purple Line period. Until then our path remains an unpaved, ill maintained mess.

Case in point, while traversing between the purple ribboned enDANGERed zone, I was attacked by a Cheetah. Yes, a Cheetah!

Were you there? Did you see it? Besides, it was dark. I think it was a Cheetah, or was it a Cheeto? Can you have just one Cheeto? Grammatically I think it’s Cheetos, so perhaps not.

Regardless, the rest is a blur. One hand in my pants (pocket, perv) and one reaching for my bag…Yes, I know, I’ve reworked the equation upon failure. That leaves exactly zero hands on the bar, Genius Giant.

A trench, a board, a wild Cheeto, an out of control front wheel. Isn’t there a saying? Don’t put the cart before the wheel.

She bounced, I bumped. She rolled, I dumped. I fell with the grace of gadzella—the unmistakable technique of a gazelle fused with Godzilla.

EFF bicycle triage this go round; Am I okay? All this headline trauma makes you think twice.

Was it really a Cheetah? Or a Cheeto? One can never be sure, but my embellisher’s license if good for two more months. It may have been the 1 x 6 that smacked my shin as I was spit to Earth.

In the end I was fine. I think. Does anyone smell burnt toast?

I really need to get that ejection button fixed.

Seriously, toast is burning. Am I having a stroke??

Happy Birthday Ash, Cheetos included.