As the morning wore on, the work crew wore out. The sun rose higher, the temperature followed suit, and the little pick-me-up afforded by the popsicles and other treats wore off. Good thing for this tired man that his family was standing ready to pick him up. As he returned to the truck, he phoned home to set the wheels in motion.And that’s when he discovered just how low on the totem pole stands the father of a newborn son. Baby Eric, it seems, is napping, so Daddy will just have to wait.
No problem. After all, the Osprey family at the site has two fledglings, and it will be nice to visit the nest and get a view of them. The legs, tired from the bike ride to the site and then the trail maintenance, should be able to hold out a little longer.
45 minutes later we return to the parking lot, and baby is still asleep. I lie down in the shade of the kiosk to recuperate, and then contemplate the most heroic act ever undertaken since the diaper blowout of ’08: mounting the bike and trundling home.
The worst part of the ride is right at the beginning. As you know, Florida is a flat, flat place. The only elevation changes in this part of the state are when you go over a freeway overpass. And Yamato Scrub is right next to I-95. So up, up, up I trudge, over the freeway. I’m so tired at the top of the climb that I barely have the energy left to coast downhill, but somehow I make it.
A right turn at NW 2nd Ave/Boca Raton Blvd., and then the long straightaway, into the wind, with the sun beating down on my unprotected face. By the time I make it home, my face is red enough to frighten my wife and my baby boy, who of course woke up when I was about 5 blocks away…