Eric is back in town, so Brad, his Dad, called in sick. I wrapped up an important phone call, closed  the office for the afternoon and pulled out the riding clothes. D took a break from his fruitless job search. D2, who never understand our obsessions with work, simply asked where and when.

By 1:00 we were riding through a cloudless, windless, 71 degree day. We stopped at Minnehaha Falls, did a quick check on the water flow, then migrated to Sea Salt Eatery to order fish tacos and a pitcher of Summit Saga. Service was slow, just the ticket to catch up on Eric’s latest adventures: A survival hike at 17,000 feet in the Himalayan foothills of India, a planned trip to Nepal, ski instructor near Lake Tahoe.

These were only the latest in a string of adventures that started with a road trip to California in the family van. That one scared his parents, but they’ve gotten used to his adventures, even a little proud, when they aren’t worrying about his life, future, and other things parents worry about.

We followed River Road north to the Stone Arch Bridge, cruised around Target Field, checked out the Midtown Greenway and circled the lakes. It was a casual ride, with frequent breaks, easy chatter and the occasional hammerhead, single file pace line sprints. The sprints were slower and shorter than they used to be, but more fun because we slowed before the thrill of speed was overshadowed by the lung bursting grind of too much adrenaline.

It was an afternoon ride, not unlike so many in the past, but heightened by the fact that, on short notice, we dropped everything, played hooky and went for a ride.