Only another writer would understand

After starting off the day with a few hours of work for the corporate overlords, I then ignored the threatening clouds and went for a ride. About halfway through the route, I heard that grinding sound that accompanies a bad shift when you've failed to properly gear down before a long climb. I looked around, startled to realize that yes, I was indeed starting the climb up Reynolds Road, and not only that, but I had been in my highest gear and thus had killed all my momentum.

I was surprised not by my ineptness but because for the last couple of miles I hadn't been on my bike, I'd been in a fantasy kingdom, contemplating the intricacies of dynastic politics. So lost had I been in my own invented world it was a shock to find myself back in this one.

Shaking off my surprise, I managed to gear down without undue stress on the chain and make it up the hill. I then kept one eye on the road while the rest of me returned back to the story world until I'd plotted out an appropriate solution to my character's current dilemma. It's the kind of thing only another writer would get--our stories not only have the ability to transport our readers to other places, sometimes they even transport us. Though preferably not when we're operating motor vehicles.

Came home, cleaned up, and it's time to see if I can get that solution written before break time is over. For most of the country this is a long weekend, but for those who work in finance (or support the databases that finance uses) this is second quarter close, so I'll be working or on call all weekend.