And the giant gaffoon (that’s the cross between a giraffe and a baboon) screamed right back at the driver, “Bite my dust!”

Bones heard me in hysterics and asked, “What’s so funny, Lump?!”

“I don’t know—maybe you almost drove the Basket Barge into the side of an eighty-thousand-dollar car and told HIM to ‘Bite my dust’?! By the way, I think you meant ‘Eat my dust’!”

“No, Lump, I meant ‘Bite it’! Besides, the guy’s probably never seen a kid going warp speed on a bike before! He was jealous.”

Like I said, Bones saw nothing but rainbow skies. Still, I had to keep him focused. “You’re almost two minutes in, you landed all wrong on your handlebars and a Range Rover nearly drove up your butt! You better . . .”

I zoomed ahead and saw construction at the inter- section of Franklin and Chestnut. There were cones everywhere and trucks on the side of the road with yellow caution tape and “WET PAINT” signs warning peo- ple to stay out of the area. “You better roll left, Bones. Construction ahead!”

“That’ll cost me at least ten seconds—no way!”

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