It was smack-dab in the middle of our annual family beach week vacation at Rockaway Beach, when my cousin Renae and I found ourselves face to face with udder boredom. As we listed our options of ways to pass the time, we finally came to the decision that we would go for a bike ride. The goal of our journey was to ride the three and a half miles to Camp Magruder, the camp my brother Nathan was working at for the week, to surprise him. However, we added a little twist for an extra challenge: we would not, at any point during the expedition, ride along the main road. As we began, it seemed simple enough, the back roads we took were easy and smooth and at the rate we were going, we would arrive to Magruder in no time. We rode along next to each other leisurely, enjoying the slight morning breeze and one another’s company.
Then suddenly, potholes began appearing in the middle of the road, first one, then several. At first, we intentionally rode through them, laughing heartily as our bodies were thrust up into the air and back down again each time, but soon enough the amount of potholes became so immense that it was impossible to avoid them. It wasn’t too long though, before our amusement was abruptly interrupted by the realization that a massive beast of a dog was making its way towards us. Now I am a dog lover, but this dog was definitely not one that I wanted coming anywhere near me. With a wide open mouth bearing oversized teeth and buckets full of drool, this dog was out to get us. We peddled faster than ever, there was no way we were going to get eaten alive without even seeing Nathan yet! (Not that we would have appreciated being eaten alive even if we had seen him). We were practically traveling at the speed of light when we faintly heard the voice of a young child, maybe six years old, calling out to “Petey” to come back home. Instantly, the seemingly malicious dog turned around and returned to his master.
We biked the rest of the way down the road, which ended abruptly. With one and a half miles still left to go, we were faced with no choice but to ride along the beach. In order to get down onto the beach though, we had to pass quickly through a field of overgrown plants clearly marked, “No Trespassing.” What we thought would be a quick simple task turned out to be actually extremely difficult as each individual plant tried to grab and hold onto our bikes, knowing we were stressed and nervous of getting caught. Then, we had to haul our bikes over a plethora of driftwood logs where we discovered a random coconut designed as a pirate. We stopped momentarily to look at it but a man began chasing after us, demanding we get away from it. Finally, we made it onto the sand. It seemed pleasurable riding next to the ocean, the small feeling of resistance as the bike wheels sank slightly into the wet sand. But the sun peaked higher into the sky and all too quickly, what was once pleasant became laborious and the cool morning breeze was nowhere to be found. We still had a mile left and the temperature was rising. Not only that, but we realized we had been gone so long our parents were surely worrying so, in an extremely anticlimactic way, we turned around and rode back to the house.
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