It was windy. Wizard of Oz windy. I saw a witch go by on her bicycle. Even though she was a witch, there must have been some good in her because she was riding in the Tour de Cure, helping to raise money for diabetes research. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and let her pass me.
It was hot. Africa hot. Every time I inhaled, my nose hairs ignited, like a hundred tiny matches.
On my 40-mile cycling tour through Rochester's southern farmlands I passed:
