A couple of years ago, I made it a habit to go on night rides, once a week, during the summer. I would usually send out an e-mail to my friends, in case someone wanted to go with me, but I rarely got any takers.
One particular evening, on the way home from riding around downtown Denver, I stopped off at The Handlebar and Grill. The Handlebar was one of my favorite restaurants, as much for the bicycle-themed decor as for the food (which was good). Alas, The Handlebar and Grill is no longer around...
Anyway, I stopped in for a beer at the bar, on the way by. That was not an unusual thing, after the night rides. What was unusual was that I ended up getting into a joke-telling contest with the bartender, and a big discussion about bourbon whiskey with a couple of fellow patrons.
This led to much sampling of bourbons, and much hilarity before I finally headed home.
The restaurant was only about 4.5 miles from my house, just on the other side of Washington Park. I would bet that I increased that 4.5 miles to about 8 or 9 miles, what with all of the weaving back and forth down the street.
I made it a point to avoid that level of imbibing on a ride, from then on...