I took my bike for a spin in old Olalla. It's a crisp sunny New Year's Eve as I head in the direction of Port Orchard. Orchard Avenue and Mullinex Road are also extremely hilly. Nevertheless, I am always surprised at how far I can go on a bike in a very short period of time. In about 20-25 minutes I made it to the modest Fraola Cemetery nestled next to the Olalla Airport. I'm not even sure if that's its real title, because I doubt there's a building somewhere adjacent to the long field that little prop planes hop out off. As I sit stretching on the subtly moist earth next to the granite chunks above my grandparents, I watch one such gray beast turn around to get a running start.


Before know it, it's above my head and it is time for me to head off before I get too cool. Heading back I start to get the hang of my clipless pedals and life size enough sillouette of a black bear lawn tacky startles me. I don't fall off. Pedaling back up the driveway a little less than an hour since I'd left, the hills don't seem quite as daunting as the used to be.

I even saw the old janitor at the elementary school, Dan, drive by with his magnificently massive gray and black frizzy beard.