I biked to work on Sunday. I work 16 miles in the suburbs, and the distance doesn’t bother me, but I hate going up the hill near the office.
The hill is on a street named “Yankee Doodle” which makes the whole situation seem even more ridiculous. But do not be fooled! Yankee Doodle has a massive, half-mile long hill that hurts. The hill is so large that I expect a Buddhist monk or a mountain goat at the top.
So I decide to get cute, take a short cut, and promptly get lost in this Ozarky town named Mendota:
