I love riding my bike when I’m almost drunk. “Of course I would never ride when I’m drunk.” I say into whatever hidden microphones the cops might have placed on the bike path.
Ah, the next dive. Whoever laid out these paths must have been a heavy drinker. At each and every end and junction is a bar of notable disrepute. The trail-heads of vice.
If the police ever asked after me each bartender and waitress would swear I just had my two beers and moved on. They don’t know they are just one step on the stairway to intoxication.