Damascus, Part I

I had only been back from Florida for 5 minutes when Brendan called.

“Hey Brendan.”
“Rickster. You free this week?”
“No plans.”
“Out-standing, we are going to Damascus, Virginia for a 17 mile bike ride. It’ll be a blast. Meet us there tomorrow at 4.”
“Brendan, I can’t ride a bike 17 miles.”
“No, it’ll be no problem, it’s all downhill. You won’t even have to peddle. It’s going to be great. We are renting bikes and riding around town, we’re going out for dinner and going to see a play.”

His words were coming too fast for me to make much sense of them, but Brendan’s excitement is difficult to resist. Even without any clear understanding of what I was setting out for, I was looking forward to the trip.