Saturday morning as I sat around drinking coffee and writing this digital fishwrap I finished my post by saying “time to air up the tires, charge the camera battery, and get out in the sunshine and calm winds while it lasts.” Well, the winds sure seemed calm here in town but when I got onto the open dirt roads north of town, the winds felt anything but calm. A stiff breeze came out of the west and cut right through my jacket and Craft windstopper base layer, keeping my nipples like two diamonds attached two fleshy beanbags full lard for nearly two-hours. Oh well, at least it was sunny.
I also typed the words “the dirt roads were actually in pretty good shape.” Well, that also turned to be bullshit; as you can see above as I ventured further north I found the roads in less than desirable conditions. At least there was a good line to the right.
As geeked as I was to get out, I was less than geeked whilst actually out. I can usually salvage a ride with some OK pics, but this ride most of them were shit, save for the photo of the lumberjack meth head hump shack attached to a barn. Sigh… I just chalked it up to a bad day, and despite snow and even colder temps in the coming week’s forecast set my eyes on better rides ahead. At least I got out and did something.
Today Wifey had to, yet again, fly out to our nation’s capital for the week, and despite the sunny skies I had little desire to do anything other than watch footy in the morning, go for groceries, do some laundry and piss around with some moving chores until finding the will to type this dross. You’re welcome.*
I guess I should do something constructive like play FIFA ’16. At least I’m not drinking… yet.
*NOTE: Saying “you’re welcome” is a joke. No one reads this, and if you do, I highly doubt you care whether I post or not. It’s OK, I’m cool with that, I mostly post for myself. When I’m 80 (like I’ll live that long) I gotta make sure I have memories of crap 25 mile dirt road bike rides when I was 44.