Wednesday, January 9, 2013

A biker's hour

When we were growing up, there was what was known as a mother's minute:

Us (me, brothers and sisters, neighbor kids, the dog): can we have some ice cream?
Mom: In a minute

10 minutes later:

Us:  Can we have some ice cream now?
Mom: In a minute.

Mom's minute was a bit of flexible, elastic time.   She was a bit busy.   Of course, we kids had our own definition of minute.

Mom: It's getting dark, time to come inside.
Us: In a minute.

I was reminded of this last Sunday when I decided to head out for a quick bike ride to Riverside and told my wife I'd be gone for about an hour.  That would leave time for shopping and a movie later.

18 miles and 2 1/2 hours later I made it back home.  I went a little bit further than planned, and took a little longer way back home.  Like usual.

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