I'm watching the sun go down and watching my gas gauge descend while sitting at yet another red light.  I'm desparately hoping one of the two doesn't end my quest for an evening ride before I can even get to the park.  The first park I try is closed for construction, the bridge to the lake is still out, and every signal between here and my detour route is red.  The gas gauge is still sinking.

Pink tinged clouds glow across the lake as I finally manage to pull in.  If the trail is closed, no one has managed to convince the rest of the city yet, so I pull into the first spot I see in the crowded lot.  Bikers and walkers, dogs and toddlers, teenagers on roller blades, and small children proudly teetering on tiny bikes weave together in the evening breeze.  It's warm and muggy still, in the clinging heat of the day, but the slightest hint of cool air brushes in from the lake.

The crowds thin on the far side of the path.  Birds skim the grasses defending their nests and a heron sits frozen at the bank waiting for his catch.  The day slows down in the spin of my wheels, and dusk descends with the splash of the waterfall as I wind back around to the entrance.  I even manage to coast safety into the gas station down the hill.