Just farting around

The Big Fella must be letting Baby Jeebus fingerpaint again.

One thing about cycling in the desert — it’s tough to reacclimate to the chilly weather that even residents of the fabulous Duke City must endure from time to time.

Checking the training log yesterday I noticed that I’d been on foot a lot lately, either hiking or jogging (yes, I’ve started that back up again, in an extremely cautious, limited, and sissified fashion).

I seem to have a lot of bikes around here for some reason, so I thought I’d grab one and go for a spin as a change of pace. But what to wear?

All my kit is about a thousand years old, but at least there’s plenty of it, so sorting through the pile burns a bit of daylight, if there is any.

Old favorites included a long-sleeved Descente jersey that dates to the Nineties, some lightweight Pearl Izumi tights that are nearly as old, and a pair of threadbare Smartwool socks. Items from this millennium included bib shorts and a short-sleeved jersey, both from Voler; long-fingered Pearl Izumi gloves; a Sugoi tuque; and my Shimano SHXM700-S G Gore-Tex clodhoppers.

It was an imperfect ensemble, as per usual. In addition to looking as though I had just rolled out of a time machine I was underdressed for downhills and overdressed for climbs.

Still, it beat the mortal nuts out of hanging around the office awaiting dispatches like the one Herself just delivered, about how the White House staff has taken to burning incense in quantity to mask the nostril-searing stench of Il Douche’s fast-food-and-fear farts.

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10 Responses to “Just farting around”

  1. Pat O’Brien Says:

    Jones???

  2. Libby Says:

    Your turns of phrases, word pictures, photo are a delight. Today: Baby Jeebus fingerpaint; dressing oneself; clothing that lasts; an overripe POSPOTUS who manifests with farts.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      Whah, Miss Libby, the things you do say (vigorously fanning self). I just unscrew the plug on the ol’ brain-case and drain that sumbitch onto the page, is all.

      I was pretty pleased with the pic and the Baby Jeebus bit, gotta admit. Even a blind dawg fetches up a Milk-Bone now and again.

  3. SAO' Says:

    You’re doing something right if thousand year old kit still fits. Nine months of quarantine and forest fires has me trying to decide whether I should awl another hole in my belt, or just forego any pretense of self-respect and switch to elastic suspenders.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      I had a longish stretch there where I had the old man’s physique (and his capacity for grog). Since I gave up the brain eraser I’ve slowly been reverting to the original me, who used to have to run around in the shower to get wet.

  4. khal spencer Says:

    Most of my stuff is that old.

  5. Herb from Michigan Says:

    I thought I was the only one with Jurassic kit. I’ve got Canari shorts, jerseys and tights that will not die. Of course one could claim I don’t ride enough miles but hell man, I’ve seen some apparel fall apart just sitting on hangers but not my bike wear. Except for some “spensive” Giro shorts that delaminated. Turns out they glued various components rather than stitched. Descente was the bomb. Trouble was it fit me like a sausage casing and I had to render it down to my kids who are still fekking wearing it 20 years later! I remember (what’s the opposite of fondly?) my first pair of wool bike shorts from Italy. Was like wearing barbed wire coupled with an I’ll fitting toupee on your nads. Stretched out so bad I had to rig suspenders to keep em up. Of course the suspenders chafed huge holes in my skin but if you wore them on the outside of your jersey or under liner you looked like you wanted rednecks to run you off the road and beat you senseless.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      I still have some Kucharik wool tights. They got so baggy I had to hold ’em up with red suspenders. Now I use ’em as PJs when camping.

      Descente was like Patagonia: bulletproof. I have a bunch of Patagonia base layers that Herself scored when she was working at either Grand West Outfitters or Eagles Nest in Bibleburg. A cat climbed my blue long-sleeved Patagucci Henley in the closet once, and the poor shirt looks the part, but I still wear it on chilly runs.

    • Pat O’Brien Says:

      “If the shit fits, wear it!” Donald Duck Dunn

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