Sunday afternoon, I had a choice: either do some housework, or go for a bike ride and maybe a little exploring.
I notice that my floor needs sweeping, still my bike gently creaks.
Our first side trip found these remains of an old bridge; built who-knows-when, across a creek with no name, going from nowhere to nowhere in particular. I'm sure it was important at the time.
Meg discovered that the huge culverts down by the slough (pronounced 'slew') were high and dry.
Go toward the light, Don, toward the light!
Race ya home!