It finally stopped raining for a couple of days, and Tonatiuh the sun god has delivered us a long-overdue solar stimulus package. The cats couldn’t be happier — especially Turkish, a.k.a. Mighty Whitey the Blue-Eyed Bully of Bibleburg, Big Pussy, the Turkinator, Turkenstein, et al. Indoors is anathema to the big galoot, who on rainy days stalks from door to window to basement to office, making a doleful sound not unlike helium escaping from a leaky balloon.

Mia Sopaipilla is less demanding, but she’ll take the outdoors on a sunny day, if it’s offered. And so will I. I got out for a quick hour on the ‘cross bike, and wowsah, has the foliage ever exploded. All of a sudden there’s shade on the bike path — which is not always a good thing.

Once those spindly trailside trees fill in with greenery, every blind corner is one more crank on the handle of the old jackoff-in-the-box. A guy has no idea what’s gonna pop up. But whatever it is, it’s probably gonna be wearing an iPod.

I’ve thought about mounting a bullhorn on my handlebars, or maybe an air-raid siren, but my poor bike is already carrying more than enough weight. What a shame the iPod isn’t equipped to receive radio. Just think what fun you could have with a mic’ and short-range transmitter. “Hey, Wide Load, watch your six, incoming! Shift three feet to starboard. And put on a shirt, f’chrissakes. You look like a Wookiee with an eating disorder.”