One or More Things I Did Today (Road to Austin Edition)

And Let It Be Known, that on July 22nd, in the year of 2 thousands and 11, I was up to this:

• The day started early for me on this fine Friday morning.
• As I slept a fitful sleep in the realm of semi rigs blowing through the one-lane highway 200 yards from my hammock, forces converged to wake me.
• "That's a funny smell", I thought as I awoke abruptly.
• "That's a funny sound", I thought as I gathered my bearings.
• "That's a skunk", I realized as I rolled out of the saddle and onto the my feet.
• Taking the nocturnal visitor and the air-braking of the night warriors as signs that it was time to ride, I hopped in my pants and hit the Texas night, 4 hours prior to my expected departure.
• Cruising the middle of nowhere, 2am.
  
• About an hour in, I decide to give the whole sleeping thing another go. Pulling into a remote picnic spot, I pop the seat back and crash until dawn (skunks still have yet to thwart the locks on an Audi).
• I rise again, 5 hours or so of road between Austin and I.
• As I drive, it becomes apparent that I'll be pushing it to make town by lunch. Furthermore, I was hoping to hit the Real Ale brewery in Blanco, and heading to Austin beforehand would add a 2 hour round trip onto the books.
• Alert the troops that we'd best parlay lunch into dinner, than redouble my efforts for Blanco.
• I stop in Fredericksburg for lunch, and make Blanco a few hours before the 3pm tour is slated to start.
• When I make it to the brewery, I'm greeted to a mob scene.
  
• The crowd on a Friday afternoon suggests I'm not alone in my WIDWINW endeavors - either these people have no jobs, are independently wealthy, or they're graphic designers.
• Whatever their occupation, the tasting room is packed like the last train out of Pompeii.
  
• I manage a taste of the 15th Anniversary brew - tasty, dark little number unlike any of Real Ale's other offerings to date - and reverse course. Bar tours are six of one, half dozen of the other, as far as I'm concerned, and nothing save salvation is worth waiting 90 minutes for*.
• And before I know it, I'm home.
  
• Sadly, my return home is not all roses, as the first six cyclists I'm greeted with have opted to fore-go the entirely overrated helmet fad.
  
• I'm typically one to leave diatribes to other blogs and Facebook, but I will write this: few things impress upon me such a swift and profound judgement as cruising without a helmet.
• While it's every adults decision to put their brains at risk if they're so inclined, chances are they're unlikely to part with medical care provided by insurance should that decision come to bite them, steep costs that will be passed on to the more prudent helmet bearers of the streets.
• Moral: helmets.
• That evening: Crown and Anchor with Mike, Carmen, Nick, and Hap. Beers.
• Picture of the Day:

The H., Home For Much of the '90s.

As they say, "It was a Day".

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*Foreshadowing events to come...