A joyous Christmas Eve to all of yis who keep the joint jumpin’ year in and year out. Here’s hoping Sanity Clause brings us all what we want instead of what we deserve.
* I know, I know, I can’t fool you, there ain’t no Sanity Clause.
Other holiday classics:
• “Father Christmas,” The Kinks.
• “Christmas In Washington,” Steve Earle.
• “Christmas Card From a Hooker In Minneapolis,” Tom Waits.
I’m wrapping up my review of the Traitor Wander, and had to wrap myself up to do it.
By the time I waddled out the door wearing winter bib tights, two jerseys, and a jacket in addition to the usual, we had already seen a light rain, a soupçon of snow, and finally a brief splash of sunshine (that was what sent me out the door).
When I stopped to snap the pic a bit of popcorn snow was flitting about like the media at a Trump rally, awaiting the outrage du jour. Must be December or something. Next thing you know, Christmas. Sheesh.
Next up for a test ride is the Salsa Marrakesh, which shares a nine-speed drivetrain and a Brooks saddle with the Traitor, but pulls the bulk of its components from a slightly higher shelf.
Most welcome right off the bat is a proper bailout gear for a loaded tourer: 26×34 (around 21 gear inches). Baldheaded old farts everywhere rejoice.
It may have come too soon, but yesterday’s sunset was definitely worth a squint. We were walking The Boo through the neighborhood, I had a camera with me, and that was that.
The sun set on Lindsey Graham’s pestilential campaign yesterday, too, boo hoo, boo hoo. Now the silly little hooter has to spend his time like the rest of us, shouting at the TV instead of from it. He bailed out just in time to have his name pulled from the ballot in Petticoat Junction and thus avoid a public flogging in his own back yard.
Oh, yeah. Lindsey also has his day job, which last I looked paid around $174,000 per annum. His estimated net worth after 20 years on Uncle Sammy’s payroll is a piddling $1.02 million. No wonder he’s so bitchy all the time.
Happy winter solstice to thee and thine. Once again I will not be attending the annual illumination of the inner chamber at Newgrange — the 5,000-year-old monument is not among the locations served by Air Subaru — but I will be there in spirit.
The weather wizards say we can expect a high in the upper 40s today here in the Duke City, but it won’t be long now before this space is devoted to bitching about the intolerable heat. To everything there is a season.
The temps finally inched above 40 yesterday afternoon so I kitted up and got out for a short ride on the Traitor Wander, the next bike in line for review in Adventure Cyclist.
I’m no longer equipped for nor inclined to those long subfreezing training rides we used to enjoy Back In the Day®, when everyone dressed up like the little brother from “A Christmas Story.”
But 40-something I can handle, especially since I’m no longer afeared of fenders. The new Shimano XM7s help keep the toes toasty, too.
I briefly considered running, but I already had all that heavily loaded legwork under my belt from emptying Chez Dog, and I hadn’t been on a bike since returning to El Rancho Pendejo, so off I rolled.
I saw a few other desperadoes out there pedaling, a couple of them wearing shorts. That’s way past Manly Points and deep into Dummy Country.
Today the weatherperson is predicting a high in the low 50s, which is my idea of the perfect December day. So I’ll be out for more than an hour. So will everybody else, but as the Buddha has taught us, life is suffering. They’ll just have to suck it up and learn how to share the road with my fat ass.
Mad Blog Media 