Flying My Kite

I'm sailing down the Forest Park bike path that parallels Highway 40 on my 10-speed, a French baguette sticking out of my knapsack, smiling. On the adjacent highway, the traffic is bumper-to-bumper, Democrats and Republicans, Bush bashers and Bush backers, all sitting still in their SUVs, heading nowhere at $3.00-plus per gallon. The bag holding my bread is flapping in the wind like a kite.