Get on your bikes and ride

Saturday. Oh, Saturday.

The day kicked off early so I could meet my Pop at the golf course before he teed off for his tournament. That required well-lined coat and numerous cups of coffee.

I shot from there to a rally for bikers who drove their cars because of the weather. They even let me ride -- but not drive -- one of the bikes. It was fun up until the moment we moved. Something about an open helmet, drizzling rain and glorified socks serving as pants gives the chilly February air that extra kicked-in-the-crotch feeling.

Two more cups of coffee, and my limbs rejoin the day already in progress. I jet off to Senator Landrieu's speech. If only she had. After waiting for nearly an hour and a half longer than expected, I meet with the senator to discuss some details of her speech.

"How do you do? What do you do? How do you do what you do?"

And I'm gone.

There is just so much information. How will I organize it all? Start with the explanation. Holy crap, I've written too many words! Backspace, backspace, backspace. Great, now the words have too many syllables.

"Go bare bones, Dinsmore. You're already half and hour late meeting up with your parents.

"Whoa, that's too simplified. And still unclear.

"Eureka, he's got it. Whoops, now you're an hour late."

I buy the pizza. Mom and Pop buy the beer. Sweet relaxation.

Before I know it, it is 8:30 p.m. and I have to go make cop calls at work, and Pop wants to go -- that turned out to be a mistake when his energy level crashed after 15 minutes at my desk. Working Saturday nights is not for the weak-willed -- or caffeine deficient.

That's when the cop lies to me and ruins the rest of the night -- until I get home to Amy, who always calms me down.