Through the Sprinklers

There is this little bit of the oak woodland at Pomona College, tucked in between some tennis courts and the Haldeman Pool, that has been receiving some supplemental water the last few times I have ridden the Cross Town Loop. Considering it is August now and still nice and hot during the evening hours, I have given much thought to riding through the sprinklers on the way home. A week ago I came close, but there was some photo shoot going on, and some strange urge to act my age got the best of me. So I didn't. Well, tonight I had to take a quick ride down to Jax (for an embarrassing reason you will find out about next time) and, since the only people around were slugging the felt ball around the courts, I decided to go for it. It threw a little twist into a run-of-the-mill errand ride, and set me to wondering why we don't run through the sprinklers more often.

"It is summer
you hear the pure joy of laughter outside your window
you watch them out on the lawn
running through your sprinkler
a half dozen middle aged men [in lycra*]
it must be happy hour at the Legion."

Red Green Summer Poem, "Running Through the Sprinkler"
*the actual poem calls for a "half dozen middle aged men, naked"
but that does not exactly work for a cycling blog, or maybe anywhere other than Red Green, or Monty Python.