Another good example of misadventure… I could change the language to not be so onerous, but why? 

I had a couple of interesting social interactions before heading toward the creek. Good ones. I kicked off my shoes and left them in the car. I stood a couple of feet away from the trail edge. You’d have to be drunk and riding a bicycle with 2 ft handlebar extensions to make contact with any part of my body. 

I was putting my phone in my pocket as a man dressed as a summer sausage pedalled toward me. I won’t explain the comparison. Suffice it to say, it’s more than apt. 

“Get out of the effing way,” he shouted. I looked behind me confusedly and then turned my head as he passed me. 

“Johnsonville,” I said, and laughed. It couldn’t be offensive to him because there’s no way he could have understood the thoughts going through my head when I first saw him with that angry look on his face. 

He came to a precarious stop. “What did you say to me?” He half-shouted.

“I recommended both a hearing aid and an optometrist.” I couldn’t stop myself. Even though he did not understand my wit, I did. It seems fair if someone’s going to be out in public with anger issues, they better be prepared to eat the plate of creative sarcasm and buffoonery that I love serving. 

“Stay off the trail!” He sounded so unreasonable that I wondered why he didn’t have a part-time job with the White House as a peace negotiator. 

I had a flash of movie inspiration. “He’s already pulled over!” I tried mimic the dude from Super Troopers. For those who’ve seen the movie, you can picture the absurdity that I was experiencing.

Summer sausage was about to say something. 

But I had another flash of inspiration. I tossed my headphones to the grass and then began running. 

Summer sausage tried to pedal forward so fast that he was going nowhere, like a cartoon character hanging over a cliff with his feet frantically pistoning. 

When I said I took off running, I actually ran in place by frantically flailing my arms as if I were running the hundred yard dash without moving. 

Summer sausage did not look back as he finally started riding on the trail at an appropriate speed for exercise. In a way, you could say I had become his personal trainer by motivating him to speed up. 

My suspicion is that for the remainder of today’s bicycle ride, he kept his anger to himself. 

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