Looks like I picked the right day to sleep in.
I woke up way too early — 3 a.m. — then rolled over and went back to sleep until 6. Miss Mia was not amused, and said so, loudly, otherwise I might still be asleep even now.
Except Herself would’ve thundered in eventually to kick me up the hole, because she is a working woman and has a full day ahead involving the making of money, the care and feeding of the 401(k), retention of health insurance, and like that there. Some slacker is in charge of breakfast, which clearly was not making itself.
So up, up, I got, and set about my morning chores, which do not dollar up on the hoof nearly as nicely.
As I was emptying the litter box, making coffee, toasting bread, cooking oatmeal, brewing tea, medicating Miss Mia, and so on, I was thinking in terms of where to ride today. Forecast was for a slight chance of rain after noon, so I was considering a medium-long outing to the Morning Star Grocery and back. Haven’t been out there all year.
And then it started raining.
Well. Shit. Lucky me. If I hadn’t slept in, I’d have been out in that rain, dodging swings of Thor’s hammer instead of kicks from Herself’s tiny sandals.
• • •
Speaking of hard rains a-fallin’, I don’t expect there’s much that could go wrong — cough, cough, “Armageddon,” cough, cough — with helping Saudi Arabia plunge its bloody paws into Pandora’s nuclear box.
Writes Charles P. Pierce:
To the outside observer, there’s no reason to trust either end of this deal. The American side is being run by grifters and incompetents. The Saudi side is being run by people who have settled accounts with bone saws and beheadings and who also are sharper about money than the Americans ever will be. The idea that the current Saudi regime will be able to resist the temptations of enriching uranium without using it to build weapons feels laughable. I wouldn’t trust any government on earth that far, let alone an authoritarian theocracy with murder in its heart.
Alas, Babylon, etc. The Gospel according to Frederic Brown would seem germane here, if young Harry Graham were the crown prince of Saudi Arabia and not a bit slow. I take little solace from any headline that includes the null phrase, “Trump says. …”
Mad Blog Media 
At least the bike lanes are DEI free.
It’s the little things. …
DOT is doing their best not to fund any more bike lanes. Only woke liberals, whatever the fuck that means to these pea brain boot lickers, ride bicycles.
Donvict wrote on his bullshit media this morning that Iran has moved it centrifuges. Wanna bet that little tidbit is classified?
Dude does love the sound of his own voice. I bet he lies to himself if nobody else is handy.
More on “DEI bike lanes” from the League of American Bicyclists.
I think lying to himself is normal for a narcissistic sociopath. This level of incompetence and stupidity is hard to grasp. Maybe going to Canada, permanently, would have been the smart move in 1969.
Depends on where you might’ve settled. You could be a puff of smoke by now. Those fires up there ain’t playing.
I enjoyed my stay in Ottawa, circa 1959-62. A visit to Montreal in ’77, eh, not so much (my French had deteriorated, along with a few gazillion brain cells).
BC I’d like to visit. A neighbor is from there and as you might expect she misses it, especially lately. I can’t believe I never visited Vancouver when I lived in Oregon. Rand Holmes, one of my favorite underground cartoonists, was a Gastown lad.
I made it to Vancouver BC once. It’s really big but I liked it a lot. There’s a lot of flavor there. I traveled around and through BC quite a bit and can’t imagine why a person would want to leave. But then the grass is always greener. Well I suppose unless it’s burning. Yes Canada has a lot of fires and although many people up there may never be affected by the flames, there’s a good chance that each year for a few days the smoke will be a nuisance. When I lived in Alaska it was not unusual to be smoked out for a few days in the summer.
I hope you make your Morning Star ride again soon. Maybe tomorrow with the freshly washed roadway and the clear sky.
A little survey question: What is it about riding in the rain that you (blog readers) like the least?
For me, it’s just getting started. I’ll look outside, then look again, and a third time, and then I’ll say, “Aw, I needed a day off anyway.”
But if I’m already out and it rains I’ll soldier on. Especially if I was smart enough to start on a fendered bike. Minimizes the post-ride cleanup.
I don’t mind the rain when riding. I got caught in it twice yesterday on the way to and from the gym. Remnants of Bertha. I was riding the Full Fendered Fargo. The fenders do nothing to keep my feet dry which is a hassle. The thing that worries me the most is the slippery roads and not being seen by drivers.
Last year I was riding across the 3 mile bridge and I could see the small rain cloud coming my way across the bay. Kinda fun getting caught in it as there was no lightning and a nice rainbow after. Also from the top of the bridge I could see a water spout out in the gulf.
Ah, now that bridge ride sounds like a fine day on the bike.
You’re right about wet feet. If my head, hands and feet are warm and dry I’m mostly OK. I have a bulky pair of Gore-Tex Shimano shoes for evil weather but the toe/fender overlap can be nearly as hazardous as inattentive drivers.
Lightning.
I don’t like going out in the rain at all, but once I’m started I don’t really care how wet I am getting because normally I’m generating enough heat. But as many of you who live higher up in the air know, rain at higher elevations can get mighty cold. The last couple of times that I was caught out in the rain living where I’m at near sea level, wasn’t bad at all. I just hate the bike cleanup and tuneup that is required afterward. So when it’s raining, my choice of exercise is running. Wet body, wet clothes, wet shoes, I don’t care. They all can be washed easily and dry overnight.
Yeah, I’ll run in the rain. Herself’s mantra is “We can do anything for 30 minutes.” Beats riding the stationary trainer or doing nothing atall atall.
In my cyclocross days the race kit included beach towels and a big bag of quarters. After a filthy race I’d hit some nearby car wash and hose down everything — bikes, shoes, kit, even the truck, if I had enough quarters.
POB: Lightning. Now that’s a different beast. I recall a long distance MTB event up in Alaska and crossing a ridgeline when a small storm blew in. We were sweating the possibility of lighting strikes during that event.
Lightning gives me The Fear. I’m sure I’ve told this story before, but when I was a hairy college dropout working with a similarly hirsute high-school chum, installing wrought iron/fiberglass patio covers and storm windows, we had to keep a weather eye on the afternoon thunderboomers rolling down Pikes Peak in the B-burg. Back in the early Seventies you could set your watch by them.
One day we’re working on this cover for a redwood deck, with some long-ass wrought-iron pillars to be cemented into holes down below, when the clouds start rolling in. We’re manhandling the iron, hoping to get it in the holes before the shit hits, and then I look at my bro’ and his hair is standing straight out from his head. He looks at me and likewise.
We dropped those lightning rods and ducked for cover. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt and like that there.
Then there was the time I happened to see a bolt vaporize a tree down the hill from our CrustyTucky chalet. Looked like the USS Enterprise hitting a platoon of Klingons with phasers on full.
Wet feet, rim brakes that barely work, bb bearing contamination, those are a few of my least favorite things. If you’re heading to BC, check out Victoria. Like Vancouver, but smaller and with a laid back vibe. Maybe the maritmes if you prefer smaller towns?
Rim brakes in the rain? Don’t get me started.
Sandy and I were on a ride during the monsoon season here in SE Aridzona. We saw the storm clouds climbing and going anvil shape on the top. It started sprinkling about 4 miles from home. Then the storm let loose on us. We ducked into a gas station about two miles from home. Torrential rain and mucho lighting strikes. It started to let up, and we decided to sprint home. Another storm started and when we got in the neighborhood, we couldn’t see the rims. They were under water. We got in the garage and felt like we had just outrun that lion, when the lightning hit the lamp post up the street. Down goes the garage door, we pour the water out of our shoes, and stared at each other. Then we started laughing.
A little of that sort of thing goes a long way, unless you’re Belgian.
I remember a Thanksgiving-weekend cyclocross at Franktown back in 1998 or ’99. The weather looked iffy, so I drove to Castle Rock the night before and stayed in a Holiday Inn Express. Started snowing like mad and I said, “Sheeeyit,” and had a Guinness or two with a shooter of Jameson, then went to bed.
Come morning it was your basic winter wonderland. The race was at a horse park, the organization was oversnowed and undermanned, and someone decided to shovel about 20 meters for a start-finish and said, “Have at ’er, boys.” Geezers were always first off, and we were dealing with a long, rolling corcuit that was maybe one-third rideable. Hilarity ensued in the peloton as the organizers kept shoveling.
It was a rare victory for me, largely because (a) the weather/holiday merriment kept a lot of the strongmen home, and (2) I was living at 8,880 feet and running a ton. In the saddle you had absolutely no idea what was under your wheels. But at least all the crashes were low-speed and cushy.
I’m so neurotic about having a clean bike that I bought a tanker 3 sp which I ride if a) the roads are a bit wet b) there is even a threat of rain. This bike I never clean and it dutifully pulls miles as a errand transport. The 700 x 45 plump tires just about roll over anything encountered. I have other bikes that would be more comfy or faster at these forays but it’s nice to not give a shit if someone cuts the lock and makes off with the beast. The panniers and cooler bag go with me into the stores. Those, I might cry if they were stolen. With minimal gearing and a few hills here and there, I figure 10 mile jaunts on the Linus are about equal in effort to 15 on a lighter bike. Or so I tell myself.
I don’t really have a garbage wagon anymore. I’ve made townies of the Soma Double Cross and the Voodoo Wazoo before, but they’re both too pretty for scutwork, and I’d miss them terribly if the evildoers got ’em.
Hm. I don’t really need another bike around here, but dammit, now you’ve gone and put the bug in my ear. We got an inch of rain in about 15 minutes last night and the roads may be too vile for a pretty bike today.
We all need a beater biker for pie or coffee rides and simple errands around town. Mine is an ancient rusty 26″mtb of unknown ancestry with baskets and racks. I’d miss my old junker if it was stolen, but there are other stray bikes that need a loving home.
I had a Cannondale Silk Path 600, 1998 model I think, that was my commuter bike. When I retired, I kept it as an errand bike. I rode it once with the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday group I was riding with at the time. One of the guys, John, fell in lust with it. He finally talked me out of it, and I replaced it with an Electra Townie. He ride that bike for years and years.
When I was doing without the driver’s license Back in the Day® I had a series of Schwinns. Continental, Varsity, like that there.
Remember when you hadn’t heard of wool jerseys and shorts (with chamois), gloves, special shoes, and all the other tools of the velo-trade? Didn’t think twice about hopping aboard one of those 40-pound mothers wearing nothing but hair, a Zap T-shirt, Levi’s, Red Wing boots, and an illegal smile?
Or maybe that was just me. …
Everything digital this morning, save the wonderful world of Mad Dog Media, has put me in a foul and surly mood. I am glad I didn’t’ run into a maggot hat, because it would have resulted in a torrent of withering questions punctuated by the final are you stupid or willfully ignorant inquiry. So, I will be taking a long break from the digital world. Got a new Taylor, 524ce Next Generation Builder’s
edition with a wonderful and warm voice to play. Warm voice you say O’Be? Yup, like KD Lang singing “Blue Velvet.”
https://www.taylorguitars.com/guitars/acoustic/next-generation-builders-edition-524ce
I hear you, Paddy me boyo. I can’t even look at the news anymore until I’ve had two cups of coffee, one visit to the “reading room,” and a bite to eat.
Some of the lefty bloggers I read maintain that anyone with a “platform,” however small, owes it to The People to sound off about every little thing. But I sure do get tired of standing on my little soapbox in the town square, listening to the sound of my own voice.