Get up, make coffee and toast, watch E. Lawn Mulch blow something up and call it a success, start a new loaf of bread, tidy up the kitchen, police Miss Mia’s litter boxes, follow Herself to the Honda dealership to drop off the CR-V for its annual physical, write something.
It’s 4/20, but getting stoned is not on the agenda. E. Lawn may light ’em up on April 20, but not Your Humble Narrator. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.
Sheeeyit, I got higher than Starship back in 1973, man.
These two make quite a pair. It’s a pear tree! That’s a joke, son!
Spring isn’t a date on the calendar. It’s more of a feeling. A warm one, if you’re lucky.
For me, the vernal equinox is rarely the starter’s pistol. I don’t hear that big bang until Herself asks whether her Soma Double Cross is ready to ride after a long winter’s nap on its hook in the garage.
Turn your radio on.
By that reckoning, spring arrived in The Duck! City on April 9, Easter Sunday.
It was a few degrees short of ideal — I like to think of spring as that time when I can unsheath the arms and knees, charge those solar batteries, collect a little free vitamin D.
But if we had to roll out in arm and knee warmers, so what? As you know, you go to ride with the spring you have, not the spring you might want or wish to have at a later time.
And exactly one week later the experience gives rise to a spring-feverish episode of — yes, yes, yes — Radio Free Dogpatch. The doctor will see you now.
P L A Y R A D I O F R E E D O G P A T C H
• Technical notes: Once again the sonic environment was less than ideal at the indifferently equipped Infernal Hound Sound studios, so I thought I’d try an audio experiment. This episode was recorded using an Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB microphone (now discontinued) hooked via XLR to a Zoom PodTrak P4, which in turn was connected to my 13-inch 2014 MacBook Pro. Recording and editing was handled via Hindenburg Journalist software (since rechristened Hindenburg Lite), with a sonic bump from Auphonic. Music and sound effects are courtesy of Zapsplat (shoutout to David-Gwyn Jones for “Looking Back Over the Hill”); the Free Music Archive (a snappy salute to the U.S. Army Blues for “Walk That Dog”, from “Live at Blues Alley”); Freesound, and Your Humble Narrator.
While a 21-year-old Air National Guard tech-support REMF was getting rousted in his skivvies on charges of playing Sun Tzu for an online audience of teeny-boppers, I was out riding the old bikey-bikey on a fairly glorious spring day.
If I have a choice, I’m always gonna go for the latter over the former. It’s hard to shift and brake with the bracelets on.
Thursday’s conditions were not quite as sunny as they were Wednesday, when the high was a blistering 81° (!).
But they had to be a whole lot better than the atmosphere in the SUV with the FBI as they ferried our man Airman First Class Jack Teixeira down to the federal jug and a date with Magistrate Judge David Hennessy of the U.S. District Court for the District of Massachusetts, who ordered him jailed until a detention hearing next Wednesday, according to The Associated Press and The New York Times.
Down by the river, I rode my Wazoo. …
My conversations with judges have mostly been brief and costly — the dollar-to-word ratio is appalling — and I try to avoid them whenever possible.
So, yeah. The bike ride. The single-ring, seven-speed Voodoo Wazoo and I went for a leisurely spin around the Elena Gallegos Open Space, which is generally a low-traffic area on Thursdays, as was the case yesterday.
The water feature remains in operation, as you see. I hurdled it cyclocross style and went along my merry way. Here’s hoping that pleasant little rivulet helps dilute the shitshow downstream from Jemez Springs, where spring flooding has overwhelmed the sewage-treatment plant.
Ain’t much gonna dilute the shitshow over OG, The Great and Powerful, Duke of Discord. The Creature from the Sewage Lagoon, Margarine Trailer Greenhorn, has already expressed her “thoughts” on the issue (link not included), and the less said about that the better.
Good Friday? I wouldn’t know. It’s too early for a proper review.
Yesterday was a pretty good Thursday, though.
The weather shifted gears a bit, and I was able to give the trees a sip of water and get myself out for 90 minutes of sun worship on the foothills trails.
The Co-Motion Divide Rohloff is a great bike for this sort of thing if you’re not in a rush, which I never am. It goes about 32 pounds with all its bells and whistles, which include drop bars, a rigid steel frameset, and a pair of hefty 50mm Donnelly X’Plor MSO tires.
The cool spring having left me low on mileage and high on a whiter shade of pale, I wasn’t exactly skipping the light fandango in the Elena Gallegos Open Space. At times, especially on the hills, it felt like I was towing a Burley trailer containing 16 vestal virgins, a waiter, and his tray.
A mountain biker yielding trail on a climb shouted, “Hey, gravel bikes!” as I lumbered up. No, it’s a touring bike, I mumbled to myself, and there’s only one of us, shortly before a dude on an actual gravel bike passed me so fast the waiter couldn’t take his drink order.
Speaking of drinks, while railing the corners down Trail 342 bound for 203A, I abruptly found myself facing a water crossing. We’ve been in The Duck! City for nearly nine years now and I don’t think I’ve ever seen water running in this little arroyo.
So, yeah. A good Thursday, for sure. But a good Friday? Don’t ask Herself. Someone buggered something down to the Death Star and she had to go down there, on a day off, to boot a server in the slats.
Good thing I stopped to snap this pic of the Cateye showing 69 minutes (1:09). I’da kept on keepin’ on, I’da run headlong into a herd of deer.
Huzzah! Our long national nightmare is over.
Lousy shot, but I didn’t want to startle the deer. A couple good bounds and they’re in auto traffic on Camino de la Sierra, which is much more dangerous than a trail with one 69-year-old dude on a bicycle.
I finally managed to squeeze in that birthday ride.
You will be astounded to learn that I managed my age in … minutes.
In keeping with the house motto, “Picturae vel id numquam evenit” (“Pix or It Never Happened”), I took a snap of the Cateye for documentation.
Now, as Feats of Strength go, this is … well, a tad feeble.
In my defense, however, I will note that I was riding a rigid steel drop-bar 29er on spiky desert singletrack — didn’t even bother to check the tire pressure before heading out! — and at one point nearly shot into a couple dozen deer browsing lazily along a narrow singletrack descent bordered with sharp rocks and cacti.
Mad Blog Media 