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I bike-commuted five times in the last two weeks, a recent record for me. It's been cold. One morning was 18 degrees F (-8 C). Another morning was 22 F (-6 C). But it was never quite cold enough to numb my subconscious urge to sprint to the track to take a photo when I heard the horn of an approaching train.
So on Monday, I heard the horn. I barely fumbled a glove off and got the camera out, while still sprinting toward the gates, before the locomotive blew through the crossing. Drat, a fuzzy photo.
Then, as I was reviewing the photo, and still coasting toward the gates, the end of the unusually short train zipped by. Quick, another shot. Double drat, a second fuzzy photo. Arrgh.
A minute later as I resumed biking, I thought I felt frozen liquid covering my chin. No, it couldn't be...
1 comment:
chuckling quietly to self
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