Tuesday was one of those perfect early fall days that feels like late summer. I got up early and got my day’s tasks done, hit the gym with my favorite gym buddy, O., joined her for lunch on her sunny back porch, and then it was all me and my bike. I headed south and east and south and east, a quick stop for froyo at a place where I got myself a gift certificate a few months ago–planting a present for future me–and then kept heading south and east, under the freeway, a left and a right and then I was in Dundalk, riding its bike lane which is also a parking lane, but I’ll take what I can get. I took a right into St. Helena–the sign said it was Dundalk’s oldest neighborhood, so what can you do but take a right into it? It was all freestanding homes and yards and corner bars in all brick, maybe one window at most. I crossed the railroad tracks but turned back to avoid riding right next to the freeway. I checked out the rows upon rows upon rows of cars waiting for their ride to car lots all over the place–the devil’s playground. I zigged and zagged until I was back on Dundalk and road it to the end, at a park overlooking Bear Creek, in the shadow of the Patapsco. I sat and stared at the blue sky, the water, the bridge and its truck traffic. A couple of guys hung out at the edge, snacking on chips and tossing the crumbs to the fishlets in the water. I got up and joined them, and watched as the fish switched directions according to the steps I made on the wall. And then it was time to head home, letting my legs spin me to east Baltimore where I hitched a ride home with the ladyfriend. Greatest day in the history of the world.