What happened to human decency?

Though Fatty is convinced that there's plenty of it to go around, I am assured that human decency is lost, perhaps irretrievably. I have little hope of finding it, but if I do, perhaps some of the other stuff I'm missing will be there with it.

My certainty regarding the complete and utter absence of human decency was solidified during my road ride today. The smoothest, most luscious and pristine piece of tarmac in the entire valley has been coated with gravel in preparation to become chipseal.

This is a grave loss, as this wonderful piece of pavement was just the sort of place where one could fly along (if 23-25 mph is considered flying, and indeed it is to me), seemingly uninhibited by rolling resistance. One could imagine one's self as Mark Cavendish, pulling ahead of the bunch sprint and leaving blow snorting Belgian primadonnas in one's wake. Or perhaps as Dave Zabriskie, in the deepest and most aero of tucks, impervious to the wind, nuts coated and protected from moisture and friction by a high-viscosity embrocation.

If this strip of road were somewhere I only occasionally rode, I could perhaps overcome my disappointment. But nay, it is part of at least half of my regular routes. I pronounce myself inconsolable. Were I to die of brokenheartedness, ACHD would have the blame resting squarely on its shoulders.

As I search the world diligently for human decency, I am quite certain that if I find it, it will be in a place that I put it, certain that said place would be easy to remember. Along with it would be the batteries that I bought for my heart rate monitor a few weeks ago. I bought new batteries a few weeks ago knowing I would need some soon. But not wanting to use them until I actually needed them, I put them in a place that would be easy for me to remember. If I ever remember where that place is, I am quite confident that I will find many other things there, things which I long ago gave up on ever finding again.

Should my current and acute brokenheartedness in fact become a mortal wound, and should the collective humanity desire to prove itself decent, please bury me with the batteries for my heart rate monitor.