I hate when you're riding down a tree lined road with beautiful sweeping turns. Tre residents are far and few between, but, each gives a friendly wave as you ride by. Its cool and comfortable weather and the sun has only been up for about an hour. Dew still glistens in the adjacent meadows when suddenly and without warning, from the opposing direction, a knife juggler in a passing convertible looses control of a 6" dagger. It tumbles through the air, seemingly guided by some unknown entity. You try to bob, weave, dash and dart. But no matter where you go, the bloody thing lodges into your forehead. I REALLY hate when that happens.
