Head out for a quick exploratory ride.  Fill two water bottles and out the door. Ride the levy along the mighty Mississippi.  Flyin’ along bewteen 15 – 20 mph – I must be in great shape!  There is that voice in my head saying "You’re not that good jackweed – it’s downhill and wind’s at your back." But what does THAT voice know anyway?  Once I hit the turn around point – I discover a couple of things.  The voice was absolutely RIGHT and I left my water bottles at home.  I actually knew I’d left them a couple of blocks from home but thought it wouldn’t be a big deal.  Now that my lips were sticking to my teeth, my tongue was swelling and sticking to the roof of my mouth, and that brown sticky stuff was forming around my lips (what is that stuff anyway?), – big deal.  I pondered dropping off the levy and stopping at the liquor store with the barred windows and armoured door.  Pictured myself walking in " Eh-cue me d’ ya ha any waaehh?" The clerk looks up from his copy of Hip Hop mag, busts a gold toothed grin and says -"Motherf’r you betta git yo tights wearin’, bucket headed, Lance Armstrong lookin’ self otta her’" "Bu I dy-in o first mifta.."  "Yo gonna b dy-in o’ lead poison you don’t git movin’ out dat doe’ " as he pulls a shotgun out from under the counter.  Decide to move along – thirsty – but not yet THAT thrirsty. Pedal along thinking about how Solomon licks the dew off the grass as we jog in the morning.  He trots along and drops his head every few steps licking lqiuid off the grass as he goes.  It’s late afternoon and all the dew is probably gone… but it’s a thought.  I decide to take a rest.  Gazing out over the river I ponder dipping my hand into the muddy water and grabbing a sip.  It’s fresh water and I could walk right down next to that fisherman taking a leak next to the chemical plant… maybe not. I sit trying my best to work up some spit.  Finally I succumb to the temptation – I bend down and lick the grass.  At that moment I see someone walking a dog and remember that Solomon also pees in the grass.  Now I realize I was right all along – the dew is long gone and I have no way to spit the grass from my mouth or face.  I also believe the blades of grass have sliced my tongue open.  I clamber back up onto my bike and resume my limp home…pedal a few strokes…coast…pedal…coast. Finally home, I fall of my bike, stagger through the house, out the back door, and grab the hose.  I put the hose in my mouth and open the spigot wide open!  Once I finish choking down a couple of gallons, I walk in the house with water spilling from my nose, and running down my chin onto my water soaked self, and gulp down the water bottles I left sitting next to the door before I left.  I believe I’ll add them to my pre-ride checklist next time.