I’m glad to have logged a couple leisurely hours on the bike yesterday, because today is looking decidedly less velo-friendly.
Something blew me out of a sound sleep around 3 a.m., and surprise, surprise, it was a powerful wind bearing water in quantity. Stripped a metric shit-ton of needles off the pines, slapped one wind chime off its hook, pitched a plastic bucket across the yard, and dumped about 0.30 inch of agua fria in under three hours.
That would be 0.12 inch short of normal … for the month.
We’ll take it. Since we shut down the irrigation system I’ve been watering by hand, and that burns a lot of daylight that I could use for other pasatiempos. Like, say, cycling.
The bike I was riding yesterday, a Soma Saga, sported fenders that I did not need. Long sleeves, knee warmers, yes; mudguards, no. The only evidence of Thursday’s 0.44 inch of precip’ was a little more sand scattered across the foothills streets.
Today might be a very different story, if I were sucker enough to give it a go. Oh, sure, at the moment the sun is shining brightly, and the cul-de-sac is slowly drying out.
But there’s still a 50 percent chance of rain resuming around 10:30. And while I welcome it on the trees’ behalf, I can do without it on my person, thanks all the same. I like my showers hot.
Mad Blog Media 
We had one bell of a lighting show last evening. Non-stop thunder with cloud to cloud lighting in the entire sky. Then the storm shifted slightly to the West and only gave us a tenth of an inch of rain. Bah, humbug. But yesterday’s El Tour was not rained on, so there’s that and this.
Good for Le Tour, and for Tucson.
I never rode the 7-Eleven Velodrome in B-burg. I watched some races, even covered a few, but it kinda reminded me of swimming … a lot of effort and the scenery never changes.
Plus you don’t wanna do a “flip turn” on a concrete track. Owie, etc.
Riding in the rain was a way to put off the laundry for a week. Just cover that Brooks!
Please don’t mention Brooks around Mr O’Brien. He might break out in hives. Something really bad must have happened in his cycling years and we should respect that.
I had a Brooks saddle, once. I also pulled a kudzu root through a yellow jacket nest, once. I’m not sure which was more painful.
I’ve tried a lot of saddles — yes, including the fabled Brooks taint-torturer — and I keep coming back to Old Reliable, the Selle Italia Flite 1990. My buddy Merrill in California likewise swears by it (rather than at it).
A couple bikes in The Fleet sport other saddles, but one by one they’re getting the upgrade as I discover Herself’s latest hiding place for the Visa card. The Sam Hillborne got a saddle transplant recently and I couldn’t be happier.
Chacon a son gout. Probably 100k miles on the Brooks, including some 14 hr days.
Have you seen Grant Petersen’s B-19 from 1996? (Scroll down.) It finally gave up the ghost after a long illness and several surgeries.
I’m on the rivet, going fast as I can
I bonked about ten miles ago, riding like an old man
Perched on the Brooks like a balance beam
Ain’t felt my balls in over six months
In fact they can’t even be seen
My favorite was a Terry Ti Fly, and I think it was a Selle Italia saddle in Terry clothes. Comfy and long lasting.
I think the classic Flite 1990 is finally out of production. A few can still be found online, but holy hell, are they ever pricey. And of course one risks acquiring a forgery or some other class of masquerade.
I wish I had bought a box of those Selle Italia Flite saddles from the ’90’s. My ass seems to have gradually been shaped around them.
On another topic, what the heck were these folks doing?
Person hospitalized after home explodes in Albuquerque.
https://www.abqjournal.com/news/article_602f9c1f-7d51-4eb0-90fe-d4a2296ebdbc.html
Meanwhile in the Upper Peninsula of the Mitten State they are preparing to get up to 2 feet of snow. “over the river and through the woods and into the ditch we go”
Just rain downstate (rats!) and everything has the look of of a WW2 London bombing newsreel. That is dark, gray and ominous. Unless you have some fresh cider and Old Smokey Salted Carmel Whiskey. And can spin some Audience at top volume from Back In the Day. A favorite for you lads in the Southwest would be “Trombone Gulch”. Albuquerque is mentioned along with desert references which is funny coming from an English band.
Two feet? Yikes, etc. My man Hal got some of the white stuff up Weirdcliffe way the other day. One of the perils of living at 8,800 feet in south-central Colorado, don’t you know, and one of the many reasons we no longer live there.
Meanwhile, 42° here at just before 9 in the ayem, with sunny skies and a high of 54° in the forecast. I will wait a while before venturing out on the old two-wheeler.
Audience, you say? “Trombone Gulch?” Here we go. …
Hey folks:
While I’m thinking about it, I hope everybody has a very nice Thanksgiving ! I’ve got the turkey brine cooling and plan on dropping the turkey into the bath later this evening. I’ll then smoke the turkey tomorrow AM. With luck and benefit from above, there will be no events of elder care that may alter or scrap that schedule. There’s no problem though, I no longer have any hair to worry about losing. But tradition must continue that may allow some self-sanity to remain.
Cheers and bon appetit’ !
Back atcha, Shawn. Herself is back from a run and has begun cranking out the baked goods. Miss Mia is napping in a sunny spot. And the Soma Double Cross and I just enjoyed a pleasant 90 minutes on the trails. All things for which to be thankful.