"The Checkpoint is AFTER Buckland Rd."Riding a bike makes conversation hard. If he could see my face, he would see it was puzzled. The next queue was the checkpoint, and although I didn't know how far I had gone since the last queue, I was confident that it was very soon. The queue after the checkpoint was Buckland Rd. Here's how it's how it looked on the queue sheet :
Checkpoint first, Buckland Rd. second. How could Buckland Rd. come first? It clearly comes second.
"Where do you see THAT on the queue sheet"We approach what looks like the checkpoint. The sign on the general store on the left says "Elmer's Store". I slow and check to see if it matches the name on the queue sheet. My navigational assistant passes me without hesitation.
"Neighbor's Store"I say it out loud and pick up speed. Slowly I overtake my momentary riding companion. Light laces the faceted divots of his fenders with a golden hue I'm close enough to his rear wheel that I can see my reflection and it's one of frustration. Two deep vertical lines are drawn from my forehead to the tips of each eyebrow, my mouth is agape slightly with the corners pulled in. Crows feet stretch from the corners of the squinting, concentrating eyes. As my face passes along the polished surface, the sun flares so loudly that my sunglasses are unable to filter it. For an instant my ears ring, the world becomes muffled and my reflection in the fender winks at me, raises a thumb in the air and then smiles. I pass the rider, and then I pass Buckland Rd. and then I turn into Neigbor's Store on the left.