Mad Dogs, Englishman AND Texans

It’s about 10:00 a.m on Sunday morning, and I’m cooling off after a bike ride. I recall the days of joining my brothers on jaunts to the beach following the San Gabriel river-bed (OK, the concrete river bed – it’s SoCal), but that was a LONG time ago.  I’m no longer interested in pounding out the miles of a twenty-something (or is that a fifty-something?) but 60-70 minutes of a steady-pace does it for me.

Another observation strikes me as I drink my cup-a-joe.  Those morning rides in SoCal started in sun and frequently ended at the beach while the Southern California “purple” was lifting.  And it was 68 degrees.  I haven’t seen 68 degrees for the past three months.  It was rapidly approaching 92 when I was storing my bike.

I am frequently asked by family members (Left Coast) and friends (East Coast) do we Texans bike (or play golf) during the summer.  What a silly question.  We’re Texans.  We don’t hibernate during the summer.  We embrace it.  Bring it! Bark, bark, bark!

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