Road work redux

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 28 Comments
The High Desert neighborhood makes a fine proving ground for touring machinery, with rolling terrain, light traffic and bike lanes.
The High Desert neighborhood makes a fine proving ground for touring machinery, with rolling terrain, light traffic and bike lanes.

Yesterday was one of those insanely busy days that should never afflict the underemployed. We’re not equipped for it.

The Marrakesh Express (c'mon, you knew it was coming sooner or later, right?).
The Marrakesh Express (c’mon, you knew it was coming sooner or later, right?).

With deadlines flitting around my scalp like Hunter S. Thompson’s Barstow bats I committed a few crimes against cycling, emailing back and forth with product managers, marketing wizards and editors; swapping bits of this and that from one bike to another; and bending fender stays around disc calipers, cutting all corners that looked even remotely cuttable, and beating on anything that wouldn’t cut with my favorite tool, the Bravo Foxtrot Hotel (look it up).

Then, before blasting off to the Whole Paycheck for supplies and liberating the Turk from the Nazi war dentist, I managed a brisk, 45-minute ride on the Salsa Marrakesh with full panniers.

It wasn’t actually snowing, which was nice —the temps were in the lower 40s, and I will even go so far as to say that this did not suck, not for January. You may quote me if you like.

This morning it was precipitating again, and Your Humble Narrator was all about writing bikes rather than riding them. Also, furthermore, moreover and too, there was the doctoring of the Turk, the roasting of the poblanos outdoors in a light snowfall, and the cooking of a medium-sized pot of lamb and white bean chili.

Speaking of cooking, now I seem to be slightly baked for some reason.

Bearing up

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments
Gonna be the biggest, baddest bear ever. And then you'll be sorry.
Gonna be the biggest, baddest bear ever. And then you’ll be sorry.

Editor’s note: The following is a guest post from Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment).

We have been to the dentist. We are not amused. We wish we were a bear like the one on the Apple TV screensaver. Then when someone thought we needed to go to the dentist we could slap all the ass off of them and eat a salmon with our funky teefers.

Carpet bomb

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 28 Comments
I'd have installed a headlight but I'm afraid of the dark.
I’d have installed a headlight but I’m afraid of the dark.

Since the weather outside is frightful, and likely to remain that way for some time, I’ve decided to launch a new touring magazine for the fainthearted: Dricycling.

It should work for agoraphobes, too. But I’m not going out looking for any.

 

 

Forget about the guns …

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
The Sandias are out there somewhere.
The Sandias are out there somewhere.
I'm pretty sure that this is unconstitutional.
I’m pretty sure that this is unconstitutional.

… some remorseless tyrant has snatched up our gorgeous Southwestern colors!

I should grab up the ol’ smokepole and go looking for them. Will y’all promise to send snacks? A federal disability check? The media?

Thanks, Obama!

 

Road work

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
I wanted to get a decent ride in today, as this is supposed to be the calm before the storm.
I wanted to get a decent ride in today, as this is supposed to be the calm before the storm.

Lord, it was a beautiful day to ride the bike.

Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. (Pay no attention to the leash on the field marshal.)
Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. (Pay no attention to the leash on the field marshal.)

I was actually overdressed for a change — three long-sleeved jerseys, a light Pearl Izumi jacket with winter gloves, heavy Descente winter bib tights, wool socks, Sidis with Castelli booties, tuque under the helmet — and while I was glad for all that during my descent of Tramway, when I turned around and started climbing I began wishing that I’d clipped some panniers full of lighter-weight kit to the Salsa Marrakesh’s rear rack.

Instead, I stuffed the jacket into a jersey pocket and enjoyed the unexpected warmth.

The temps had risen to the low 40s by the time I returned to my heavily fortified compound, which I had left in the capable paws of Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment).

The Turk’ reports that the most immediate threat to the security of El Rancho Pendejo comes not from Y’all-Qaeda, but rather from the skies. The weather wizards are calling for light snow through Friday.

Maybe we should ask the Weather Underground to occupy the Weather Underground.