Veggie Roadkill

May 27, 2011

The squeeking of my dry chain greeted me as I began my afternoon bicycling experience. I had apparently not been diligent with my maintenance of the Old Bastard, but of course we have had a few soggy days lately. Even the Hawthorn tree in front of my abode is rusty! The outlook had been overcast. Even the roadkill had seemed a bit less perky - rather bedraggled, in fact. But today things were still fairly dry due to yesterday's sun shining down upon the pasty white necks of my fellow Caucasians and I as we paced our lawns, led by our machines. Restlessly, back and forth. My buddy Bob had called and reluctantly informed me that he would not be able to meet me for a beer after work.

"Well, I guess that'll give me a chance to mow the lawn." I squarishly responded.

"That's what I'm doin'!" Bob declared, seemingly relieved by our mutually staid but responsible outlooks on evening activities.

I guess I wasn't surprised.

I have had more excitement in the sleeping world than the waking one lately. Last night I dreamt that I was working my way up a long stairway, gradually hopping, one wheel at a time, sideways on my bicycle. I was somewhat annoyed when I encountered a couple of unambitious teenagers sitting on a step. I dismounted and entered a house party. I dismantled my hot pink bicycle and left it upstairs in a cozy study nook of a female inhabitant of the house. The bicycle seemed a bit familiar, so I was (once again) unsurprised when I discovered the bike very much resembled the Terry Fastwoman pictured in the catalog I received in the mail recently. Yes, I may have been riding a Fastwoman on the stairs in my dreams.

As I was typing before, the roadkill has flattened out, and perked up recently due to a bit o’ the sunlight. Here’s an expressive example.

or two.

Even the veggie roadkill looked crisper.

These shapes (when miniaturized) would combine to make a fine-looking breakfast cereal. We could call it Mourning Roadkill. It would be great! It might even emit some kind of a red dye into your milk (or perhaps feature a label recommending pairing the cereal with strawberry Kwik milk, mmmmm)! All I need is a partner with some marketing saavy and a few big bills lying around and we’ll both be rich! (Just send me a copy of your ATM receipt and we'll get started right away!)

As I cycled squeekily homewards, I noticed many signs that we were approaching the first holiday weekend of the spring and the unofficial beginning of summer. This guy was staring at the swimming pool, apparently assessing it’s ability to handle an early onslaught of soon-to-pee-due-to-chilly-water-ish children.

Many of my fellow suburbanites had recently mowed, which explained the abundance of veggie roadkill and also the occasional dusting o’ the green on the driveways.

The variety of expression displayed by many of the creators of public art in our area is a source of never ending delight to me. This subtle (i.e., very hard to decipher without the right lighting) ironic statement... (if you can read it)

preceded it’s slightly more visible, but less confrontational, equivalent (at least to the young, speed-hungry motorists with an aversion to braking) that I encountered further down the road.

Well, these notices didn’t faze me as I gradually wheeled along on my merry way. After all, as the good book says, the road to glory is paved with cute corpses, flattened vegetable matter, insults, bumps and warnings!  And a merry weekend to you, too!