Turkocalypse now

December 31, 2015 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments

“Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker, and every minute Charlie squats in the bush, he gets stronger.”

Maybe. Especially if the bush is in a sunny window. It’s nearly noon, and all of three degrees above freezing, and the weather wizards say that’s about as good as it’s gonna get around here until sometime in 2016, when we could be looking at 45 and sunny.

The horror … the horror. …

Still, a man must ride. The world is full of bicycle reviews and deadlines, and never the twain shall meet if a man doesn’t ride.

And after the riding there shall be the cooking and the eating of the tinga poblana, a recipe I found when I was purging my collection in the process of searching for something I hadn’t prepared yet.

And after the eating there shall be … resolutions? Naw. I’d like to ride more in 2016, maybe (gasp) do some more self-supported touring, and toward that end I’m throttling back on the workload a bit, discarding the most irksome of my chores like unused recipes. That’s about it from this end.

How about you folks? Any big plans for the New Year? Sound off in comments.

Out comes the bird

December 29, 2015 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

Looks like a god damn Tim Burton movie out there this morning.

The secret word for today — and for the rest of the week, it seems — is “cold.”

The weather wizards say temps in the Land of Enchantment should be 15 to 20 degrees below normal for a while, which means those of us who review bicycles for our bacon and beans will need to bundle up, if only to protect our bones against the inevitable spills.

And no, I’m not talking about spilled beverages.

Also, moreover, furthermore, and too, it’s snowing again.

And now, the good news: Al Qaeda is making a comeback. I’m starting to wonder whether Stan Lee is scripting geopolitics for Disney. We’ll know for sure if Hydra suddenly pops up on Exile Island, led by the Red Skull.

Marrakesh Polar Express

December 26, 2015December 26, 2015 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 25 Comments

I was using the other hand to punch the snotsicles out of my beard.

Heated fenders. Has anyone invented heated fenders yet?

The first ride on the Salsa Marrakesh is in the books. You may be amused to recall that Marrakesh is in the Kingdom of Morocco, where the average temperature would have the devil pitching a bitch and snow pops round about as often as democracy.

There is a “ski town” about 45 miles south of Marrakesh, in the Atlas Mountains. I’ve been saving all my money to take you there.* But its chairlift is a donkey and I hear the Mexican food sucks.

* Well, Graham Nash has, anyway.

Wrapping up times two

December 23, 2015 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments

Today's weather was Traitorous. — Today’s weather was Traitorous.

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.

There goes the sun

December 22, 2015 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

Sunrise ... sunset. ... — Sunrise … sunset. …

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.