I hoped to ride on back streets to the Blue Bonnet Trail on Alma Drive in Plano, a long, easy trail that rolls on a huge power line cut from the north of the city to its south.
In fact, though, my progress took me only to Hoblitzelle Park, a pleasant biking trail on which I was able to coast by myself without worry about traffic or impedance.
One of my mottoes in such matters is "no heroics", so I walked the bike across major thoroughfares such as Alma and McDermott. I also stopped for the lemonade the primary school kids were selling on a street corner, with their parents on hand to supervise their safety and their capitalist skills. Our Plano parents are nothing if not concerned these days, as lifestyle slowly replaces workaholism in Plano culture.
Along the way I had those "bicycle experiences", such as appreciating lawns and yard foliages much more at 10 m.p.h. than at 30 m.p.h. At one point, a suburban street was blocked off, so that the local high school "Escadrille" team could march ahead of the marching band in the what may be the World's Smallest Parade Not Involving Fleas.
Escadrille, contrary to popular opinion, is not the Portugese word for butter-sauteed snails, but instead apparently involves wearing short but chaste shorts and waving pom poms in a fashion that is both coordinated and rhythmic and yet utterly lacking in rhythm. I rather liked the band and the escadrillettes nonetheless, or perhaps "of course". It all had a home town Stepford feel that I liked. Needless to say, I'd post a digital of it, but my AA batteries had XX'd out.
When I stepped off the bike, I had that sublime sense of infinite peddling, and that sense that I am a little older than the last time I rode a bike. In short, I had a total blast, and can't wait to put the bike onto a bike carrier and go to a less traffick-y town or park for more leisurely riding.