First of all, let me apologize to the woman watering her lawn one day earlier this week.

Ya'see, I ride my bicycle to work now and choose the shortest, most direct and flattest route there is.

When I cut across this lady's garden and rode into her backyard, I was feeling frisky and when I saw the shape of a large woman bent over with her unmentionables showing, I thought it was one of those gosh-awful lawn ornaments and gave it a swift kick with my foot.

Please accept my apologies, ma'am.

My personal transportation problems continue, but thanks to friends they are limited.

Dick Guckeen and Bob McGinnis are my regular drivers. Guckeen is a retired Mower County Highway Department worker. McGinnis worked for the Austin Daily Herald for over three decades. They're both great storytellers.

When I need a ride to the laundromat, my neighbor, a delightful lady by the name of Maydene McDonald gives me a ride.

I've also called upon Al Layman for rides, the estimable Deacon Mary Frances Jones and just about everybody who works at the Austin Daily Herald.

Two of my Herald colleagues, Delaine Quam and Jana Johnson are the busiest.

In fact, I've got a list of people, who want to give me a ride when I need it. Harry Willmott and Ron Plath are two of the names on that list. Sunnee Flink is another.

My former personal care attendant, the ubiquitous Nurse Ratchett gives me rides, too.

The other day, the Mower County Board of Commissioners took me for a ride.

Literally, that is.

Dan Wilson, the Austin fire chief, says I've lost my column-writing edge. "You used to hit us with a real punch. Kapow!" said the fire chief the other day.

It was a scary thought. For that matter, any thought by the fire chief is scary.

I thought about compromising my principles, when I was forced to ask the Mower County Commissioners to ride with them to a bridge opening.

It really bothered me. What would people say if they knew Lee Bonorden was riding around with the enemy: politicians? "Where are his ethics?" they would wonder. "They're politicians and he's a muck-raking journalist for God's sake. Is he becoming one of them?"

Then, I thought, "Who cares? I need a ride and this will do. They're harmless without the county coordinator."

We met at the Mower County Courthouse that morning. There were seven of us: me, five commissioners and -- imagine my surprise --

Craig Oscarson, the county coordinator.

Because of all that brain power, we decided to separate the group in case there would be an accident and six of the brightest people n the world, and (fill in your own name here) would be wiped out in a single accident.

I rode with commissioners Ray Tucker and Len Miller, plus Oscarson. The other three took another vehicle.

I expected to hear some childish

remarks when we started. Ya'know, the usual "Read any good stories in the Post-Bulletin lately, Lee?"

or "I didn't get my Herald last night" as well as blind jokes.

Instead, they kept it clean and civil, which

disappointed me. I was ready with some smart remarks of my own for "Landslide Lenny" and "Tricky Dick."

As a matter of fact, none of them were very talkative. I was hoping for the inside scoop on county politics, but got nothing out of them I didn't already know.

In fact, it was downright boring and made riding a bicycle feel more adventurous.

I wonder if I can remember where that lady watering the lawn lives?