I took a ride today with a friend from work. We cruised from Salem down some back roads to Albany, where we had a great burger at the Callapooia Brewing Company. Then we headed East of Hwy 5 and went North through the four "S" towns: Scio, Stayton, Sublimity, and Silverton.
About 5 miles before Silverton, I felt something smack my neck, and it hurt bad enough I wondered if I'd been hit by a rock. My glove came away dry (yea, no blood) so I blew it off. About 2 minutes later, I felt a pinch on my belly. Thinking a belly-hair was being tweaked by a fold in my shirt or something, I used my left hand to shift my jacket around. More pinching. That was when it dawned on me -- OMG A BEE FLEW DOWN MY JACKET!!!
I quickly got the (lame!) idea to try and kill the bee by smashing it against my belly. I know, I know, it was a lame idea. I already acknowledged that. So now I've got pretty much constant pinching as this stupid bee is waging a solo war against my belly flab (yes, yes, you can call it a battle of the bulge, ha ha, aren't you funny to have thought of that -- hey, I"M IN PAIN HERE!!!).
It settled down a bit and I thought maybe it had finally died. Just in case, I tried to keep my body as still as possible. But every bump (ouch) and turn (ouch) that made my body move (ouch) at all (ouch) brought a new onslaught from little Mister-I-Refuse-To-Die inside my jacket. As we pulled in to Silverton it had been a few minutes since the last sting and I thought the miniature militiabee had finally gone on to the great bee poppy-fields in the sky. Dave was in front, having no idea why I blew past him at a stop sign and made a quick turn into the nearest safe parking spot. I quickly got my gloves and helmet off, and got my hand ready to catch the bee as it fell.
No bee. Or so I thought until
OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!
The very much not-yet-deceased tiny titan wasn't in my jacket -- it was under my shirt, and he was angry as ever! I quickly untucked my shirt and out dropped the smallest bee I've ever seen. Seriously, the thing was small! I swear to you an adolescent housefly could've kicked this thing's butt. It was this miniscule bee and as he fell, he put out his wings...and flew victoriously into the afternoon.
I took a few deep breaths and let the willies subside, then we mounted back up to finish our ride. On the way home, we passed (no lie) Bee Road. And as we did, I remembered getting a txt from Cathy this morning before I left, which said "have fun, and beee safe." I had chalked that up to a typo before. Now I think maybe God was trying to warn me or something.
Word to the wise: if you think you have a bee in your jacket, stop as soon as safely possible and deal with it -- or you will suffer its wrath.
Still and all, it was a good ride. I went a little under 103 miles, and filled my tank with a little over 2 gallons -- 48+ mpg. Not bad for a 20yr old bike that needs a tune-up and is battling a slow oil leak!
If you are interested, you can view our full route on Google Maps here.
This is one of the funniest pieces I've read in a very long time! I'm sorry that it took such pain and trauma to bring today's "belly" laugh, but it's your own darned fault for being such a descriptive writer! We were at Tracy's little Sat. night get-together when Cathy told us about her "bee" text message, but little did we know it was a "word" from above! Thanks for sharing the entire story; you should send this one to Readers' Digest!
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