I had gotten a good start that morning. I was up and dressed as early as if it were a regular day of work. After eating, a quick shower, and the complete rub-down with sunblock, I was on the street by 8:00 AM.
Long bike rides had become a yearly ritual which I both loved and hated to love: it was a lot of fun on the trail in the cool, shady spots, but it was hell in the 90°F. heat after 45 miles or so. But the feeling of accomplishment outweighed the hardness of the long ride home. As usual, I was dressed in 501's, cut off high enough to keep me cool and long enough to prevent chafing from the padded seat of my 10 speed. My t-shirt was light coloured and my hat, shoes, and socks were all picked for comfort for the long ride from Discovery Park to Folsom Lake and back on a cool spring morning. Although I had brought my Walkman and some cassettes, I had left them in my 3 lb. backpack along with fruitrolls, a spare shirt, socks, and maps (in case I chose to leave the trail for food or repairs), a towel, and bike tools I hoped never to need.
The air was cool at Discovery Park and I picked up my pace as I started the trail proper to war up but I never got to the point where I missed the sights. The magpies, meadowlarks, and mockingbirds kept up a steady chorus while the traffic noises slowly faded away and my spirits rose. I always loved this part of the ride and it would have been perfect if I had someone to take it with. The girl I had been dating was athletic and willing but 20 miles was pushing it for her. In fact, everything was pushing it for her: my dead-end job, my lack of interest in long vacation trips to 'wherever', my disinterest in marriage and kids. I knew we were on limited time and so did she but we were still good friends. Anyway, she had a friend she needed to see today and I couldn't put my ride on any other weekend. So, there I was, fantasizing about all the ways I could meet a girl on the trail. Needless to say, this is not a new thing for me to do but, hey, so what? I have never done more than offer a polite nod or a quiet 'hello' to any stranger but it's fine to picture the girl riding up behind you, licking her lips, and smiling as she speeds up just enough to let you know that following is OK. Allright, maybe my imagination is a little shaky but I don't write good scenarios, I just try to get mentally laid. Is that really so damned bad?
I was really pumping hard for about a half hour and I'd warmed up to a 'comfortable coolness' when I saw the first rider. Actually, it was the last rider in a large rally of riders, all which had a number and a sponsor's name affixed to the backs of their shirts. Fortunately, the large amount of riders was spread out over a number of miles so it wasn't difficult to pass individuals and small groups whenever necessary. What was difficult was keeping my mind on the trail and off the female cyclist's bodies! And, wow! This was a fantasy-fuck dream come true: there were a lot of pretty women in every type of tight riding pants, shorts, cut-offs, and even some bikinis! These latter were obviously dressed for tans rather than serious riding but I wasn't complaining too loudly. I had a great time following some of the beautiful shapes - so much so that I completely lost my pace and openly smiled and chatted with a few. I was always greeted with smiles and easy conversation. Even the guys in the rally seemed happy and relaxed. I was almost wishing I was part of the rally myself but I realized that I didn't really want that; I wanted to be wrapped up in some cute, friendly girl's arms and on a bike wasn't the location I had in mind. A few more short chats, some covert looks of longing and I was up to speed again and past most of the rally - at least physically. My mind did a lot of stuff that my body never did.
A little more than an hour later, I was into one of the best spots to stop. This place was right next to the American River, overgrown with scrub oaks and a lot of patches berry bushes, ferns and cattails. I stopped, pulled my bike off the trail and sat with my feet near the water, letting the light rapids, crickets and birds lull my mind from all else. On impulse, I locked my bike to a birch sapling and wandered along the shore as quietly as I could and there she was: tall and still, but seemingly unafraid. The doe was barely visible in the underbrush about 20 yards away and looking directly at me. I was as captivated by her as she was relaxed around me; apparently, she was used to the proximity of humans on "her" range. I slowly sat down in the brush and she resumed her snack of shoots and leaves.
I don't know how long I sat there or when I dozed off. But I awoke to a gentle rustling behind me and fully expected to see the doe as I turned around slowly. I jumped when I saw the girl, still wearing the riding shorts and shoes but nothing else! She covered my mouth quickly and gestured for quiet while pointing to the doe, which was still about 15 yards away.
