Dean planned to spend his free time biking, but changed his mind when he saw the crowds in town and remembered the traffic that would clog the narrow roads.
"God," he said at one point, "I used to think I was in pretty good shape when I was biking a lot.
He wasn't quite ready for sleep so he wandered back to the parlor, sat in the back corner and picked up a biking magazine.
He donned biking clothes, packed a jacket and sweater in his pannier and set off in pursuit of a few peaceful moments in one of his favorite worlds.
If anything, winter biking was more pleasant without playing dodge ball with rushing tourists and campers along the summer-busy, shoulder-less highway.
Dean felt cheated, doubly so because yesterday, a comp day off, it had rained as if St. Swithin was ticked off at the world, denying him the pleasure of biking the Pennsylvania countryside.
He was in fairly good shape, thanks mostly to weekend biking more than any innate athletic ability.
The man was about Dean's age, shorter, with dark hair and moustache and dressed in full biking attire.
Dean still hoped to get some biking in during the remainder of his day off but the weather turned decidedly unpleasant as they pulled into Parkside.
In spite of the disappointing weather Dean was determined to fit some serious biking into the salvaged half of what should have been a free weekend.
Earlier he'd signed up to take his July vacation in Iowa, biking the 400 miles across that state on a seven-day bike tour known as "RAGBRAI," named for the sponsoring Des Moines Register newspaper.
Biking was usually Dean's thinking time, but his brain felt overused lately and had opted for a day off, restricting his thoughts to nothing more pressing than the next hill.
Why don't you two go biking tomorrow?
No activity was more natural than spending the day like this biking the Pennsylvania countryside—with Cynthia Byrne.
One worker talked to a man about biking in Colorado.
It was a day made for biking and in spite of his body problems, he gave Cynthia Byrne a call to see if she wanted to join him.
I guess he was thinking about biking again, Randy commented.
He studiously perused the biking catalogs for the additional gear he would need for the trek and crossed his fingers he'd chosen correctly.
The first day was behind him, his muscles weren't overly sore, he seemed to be adjusting to the altitude and he had conquered more hills in one day than a year of Pennsylvania biking would offer.
He saw my biking magazine.