As I had mentioned in an earlier email, I will attempt to write some stories about the season as it progresses for the entertainment of all the men in orange. This is my inaugural posting. So sit back, clear your mind, wrap your lips around that beer in your hand and prepare yourself for a journey into which the eyes will have to see to believe.
Ah, springtime in Georgia! Sunny, warm the trees are starting to blossom, sweet smells in the air and people escaping to the outdoors from their long, harsh winter retreat (that is my attempt at sarcasm). Itâ€™s Sunday the 15th of March around oh, 4:20 in the afternoon and Ali and I are lounging in the street in front of my house in Cabbagetown. As I sit there relaxing I mull over the last 48 hours and how crazy they have been……
Friday afternoon began innocently enough, some rain showers and sprinkles on occasion and in the mid 50’s. Not an altogether bad afternoon. Ricky “Aquaman” Fuqua (whom you will all meet as he will be joining us for a few summer months on the team in Wisco) and I are going for an easy ride to spin the legs and talk about the upcoming races during the weekend. We ride for about an hour and get rained on, nothing to severe. We go home and decide that we will be leaving for the race at 5:30 in the morning. Yes thatâ€™s right; I am getting up in the dark to ride my bike. Something is definitely amiss in the universe. Little did I know that that wouldn’t be the last time I saw Rick that day.
After the ride, I have a few leftovers and take the dog out for a walk to find some beers. I walk the neighborhood searching high and low for someone, anyone that will give me some beer and conversation. I end up seeing my friend Grant and we sit on his porch watching the day end as a true southerner would on a late Friday afternoon. After much sitting and a little bit of drinking, Ali and I head to Carroll St. Cafe. It is the lounge, brunch, bohemian cafe in Cabbagetown. There I tie Ali up outside and step in for another with my friend Jay and my old neighbor Dave. Its about 8:30 and the place is filled with fine things to see. After a beer Jay and I step out for a cigarette and then head home for the evening. Little did I know that this would hardly be the end of my evening.
Ali and I get home about quarter after 9pm and I head directly to bed. Now mind you it had been raining off and on for most of the day and there were more severe storms expected for the evening so I wasn’t that surprised when I woke up around 10pm to the sound of thunder and Ali pacing around downstairs. I get up and climb down from the loft and grab his 80lb ass, sling him over my shoulder to carry him up into the loft. We made it about half way up the ladder when we heard a loud crack and the power went out. Upstairs I get Ali into the bed and try to calm him down; he was shaking like a leaf. In the loft I have one double hung window that faces due west about 5ft from my bed. I look and can see the rain coming down and the wind blowing, I close my eyes and realize that all I can hear is the sound of the wind. The sound is getting louder, I open my eyes, the trees are really moving, close my eyes, the wind is getting louder, holy shit. â€œAli, come on!â€ I grab the dog, get him back over my shoulder, and down the ladder as fast as we can, it sure sounds like a tornado, and itâ€™s on its way and soon. Downstairs I have only one interior room, the laundry closet which is about 3×5. I pull the washer/dryer out of the way and sneak behind with the dog in tow. Not more than 10 seconds later itâ€™s over. I call my neighbor to see what the hell happened.