Spunkprint

I found the Northwest Passage through the park woods--several, in fact--but it wasn't long before I began having reservations about the footprint I was leaving in the woods. Someone else was concerned, too. In various places along the trail obstacles had been placed: logs pulled from their trailside beds of leaves to cross the path; a small dead tree uprooted for the same purpose; even a live maple cat-skinned across the trail for the apparent purpose of dismounting a rider. I cursed this "activist" as I cleared the way, kicking away the debris and straightening the tree as best I could, but I began to worry what my pedals were shredding pathside and my tires crushing where I might veer off the trail, going to fast to steer adequately around sharp bends.

There is a bike rack in the park at the back end of the trail. One day, coming from work, I locked my bike up there and walked to the car. It rained the next two days, and I felt I'd abandoned the bike to the elements. It might have been the first night in its twenty years that it had been left out in the rain. But I did finally get back on it, arriving at work with a wet ass, and have not abandoned it since without covering the seat and handlebars with plastic bags. I'm enjoying my walks in the woods. I've met a couple of box turtles and a toad along the way that I might have run over if I'd been pedaling through. Often, during the walk to the car I stop in a secluded spot and masturbate. It must be the freedom to do it that excites me--out in the open air yet unseen. I like to think I'm giving a little something back to nature, too: Who knows how many mouthparts a little spunk will feed.