Fire Ants, Pecans and Geese, Oh My!

I noticed an impressive spider web in our garage the other day. It's been there for a while and my thighs can prove it. It's on my bicycle.

My beloved bicycle. The frame is a deep shiny blue and when we first brought it home, it had that new-tire smell. It's got too many gears for my liking, but that's OK. They look cool.

I've always loved to ride bikes, though I'm not like those guys you see with the skintight outfits offering views you feel you should tip them for. Or those women hunched down over the handle bars, getting some extra use out of their Lamaze lessons. No!

I'm that grinning goof-ball coasting down a small incline, feet stuck out on either side, seeing how far she can get without pedaling. Dare I say it? I ride for fun.

But I haven't given the old bike a whirl for about a year, I guess. No particular reason, I just haven't made time for it. I'm sure I would take it out if I had a specific place to go, like my mom did when she was about my age. She decided to ride her bike to work and though it was only a few miles, you have to give her credit for doing it.

The memory of mom pedaling off on her bike made me realize that I shouldn't rely so much on my suburban. So when it needed some minor repairs, I impulsively turned down the ride the repair shop offered and walked the few miles home.

I cut through a small park and temporarily became one of the walkers pumping around an endless circle. As they cruised off to the right, I continued straight towards an embankment. I got some curious glances, but I wanted to follow the creek instead of taking the road. That's the beauty of getting around on foot. I could go the shortest distance between two points by taking the straight line.

Well, nobody mentioned that the straight line might go through a marsh.

The grass was knee-high and the ground beneath my inappropriate shoes was wet. I walked on, unwilling to backtrack. Besides, I thought, as I looked around. It was really beautiful. You don't see sights like this from a car! The creek ambled through some empty fields. Not a soul in sight. Not a living soul. Good place to dump a body, I thought.

Whoa! Too much TV. Still, sufficiently spooked, I ran, knees high, like a deranged gazelle. I worried about ant piles, snakes and a guy I saw on America's Most Wanted.

Spotting the road up ahead, I was relieved, but I wondered if anyone could see me. It's one thing to catch an eight-year-old wildly hopping through the high grass. It's quite another to see a forty-something woman doing it.

Reaching the sidewalk, I played it cool, like it was perfectly natural to be walking along on Hwy 6. Mid-saunter, I crunched on a pecan and couldn't help but look for more.

Here's some advice. If you're picking up pecans on a busy street, don't bend over fifty times with your butt facing traffic. When I finally realized what all the honking was about, I straightened up and concentrated on my walk.

I passed the pond and was chased by a gaggle of geese, flapping their wings as they ran towards me. "No bread!" I yelled, tossing pecans behind them.

I made it home in time to hear my phone ringing. Amazingly, my suburban was ready. I paused, considering the walk back. Perhaps the bike? I could show that spider who's boss.

Sighing, giving in, I asked, "When can you pick me up?"