Saturdays are like gifts from the gods. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, better than waking up early on a Saturday morning to sunshine, with an unplanned, and unfettered weekend splayed before me. It’s a remnant, I’m sure, of my long-ago youth in Iowa. The carefree, daredevil, world-is-my-oyster energy of Saturday morning is like an aphrodisiac of expectation. Never mind that it’s ordinarily uneventful; the promise of possibilities is intoxicating!
I’ll usually get one of my bikes out and make a short ride; even if it’s just for the sake of saying I did. There’s nothing better than, on a Saturday morning, rolling one of my bikes out of the garage for a ride with no plan, no agenda, and no requirements.