Ho boy. “Like biking without the work.” Thanks so much, Revel.
I’ll just put the bicycle industry over here, shall I? Next to the buggy whips, Linotypes and rotary-dial phones?
Anybody seen any journalism on what we do with the batteries in all this lovely “green” e-shit when they fail, as batteries do? Can they be recycled? Do they wind up down in WIPP? Or do we just launch them into space?
No fathers around here today. Herself’s is gone, mine is goner, and as far as I know there are no young baldheads with attitudes wondering whom to blame for their shortcomings. So I went for a Not-a-Father’s Day ride today, down to Balloon Fiesta Park and back.
For the way home I chose the Domingo Baca and Paseo del Norte bike paths, which I hadn’t ridden in forever.
And look! Even though I’m not a daddy-o, somebody’s kid gave me flowers.
The Adobe Throne is liable to be a tad toasty today. It was already 70 at 6 a.m., and we’re expecting a high in the 90s.
The past couple of mornings I’ve been opening windows and doors to let the cool morning breeze wash the stuffy night out of El Rancho Pendejo.
A bit of a breeze seems to be blowing in DeeCee as well. I see one bloated, belligerent bullshitter is headed for the exit, though the Maester of Mendacity remains. His dragon seems to be in a bit of a pickle, too, but there’s no sign she’ll be flapping off into the sunset anytime soon.
And even if she did follow Sneery Spice into the private sector, which none of these people ever really left, would it really matter, with Beelzebozo’s Mickey D farts stinking up the Oval Office?
We’re not on the good side of the ill winds, no matter how many windows get flung open.
Sigh. As if this racket wasn’t tough enough already.
Herself buggered off for a long weekend starting last Thursday, this time to the American Heartland for a pal’s wedding, so I was at liberty for a few days.
Well, not exactly.
I had to do battle with the dishwasher (!), make my own coffee (!!) and feed and water the cats (!!!).
Also, I noticed that the litter boxes still refuse to empty themselves. When might I expect delivery of my Turd-B-Gon 9000®? Never? Does never work for me?
No, it does not.
But still, yeah, freedom, amirite?
I got to sleep in until 6 a.m. most days, did little cooking and less shaving, and the riding of the bikes continued unabated. The Masi Speciale Randonneur remains under review for Adventure Cyclist, and in honor of Bruce Gordon and framebuilders everywhere I rode my Nobilette and a Steelman as palate cleansers.
Herself got back yesterday afternoon, after a short delay caused by evil weather. Storms beat the snot out of Dallas, where she was changing planes, and ever since she touched down the wind has been flogging us here in the Duke City. Up north, my man Hal Walter reports ice on the vehicles, the canceling of the Hardrock 100 due to historic snowfall and avalanches, and the rerouting of the Leadville marathon.
All in all, it looks like a fine day to stay indoors and push pixels around.
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