Outside of the “squares” that somehow live among us, everybody has a favorite band, album, or song. I have too many to mention, but I’m certain they are all better than your favorite artist, band or album. I also have something that is beyond all that: I have a favorite cassette tape.
Tag Archives | music
Tops
The dump of snow we got last week, and all the potential outdoor fun that came with it, has turned to a sloppy mess. Warm temps and rain followed by falling temps have made things pretty useless. If the Fatterson was back I could probably get it out on the frozen slush and mess of the dirt roads, but since it’s waiting on a chain ring I am left to activities such as riding the trainer, “running” on the treadmill, lifting heavy things for no reason, and competitive flatulence. That means nothing to blog about or take photos of.
Since we’re almost done with this fucking fuck hole of a horrible year I figured I would give some of my top highlights and low light, digs and not digs of the year.
Ninja Holiday Visit
Excuse me while I sing one of my favorite lines from one of my least favorite songs…“ITTTTT’S the most WWWWONDERFUL time of the yyyyyear….” Yes, the holidays, barring New Year’s Eve, are OVER! Can I get an amen??
Rolling & Slogging
Wednesday and Thursday brought two more dirt road rides. Wednesday’s ride was finally in some sun south of town on the PrOcal, and Thursday’s ride was a muddy slog north of town on the Fatterson in dense fog.
Back To 505
Most, if not all, of the dirt road rides I do north of town take me on North Crawford Road at some point, especially now that I live spitting distance from the paved portion of Crawford; a portion that I am on for just a nugget hair over a mile until it turns to blessed dirt.
Here I Go Again, Fade To Black
Thursday night I met my friend, and fellow cyclist, Mike at our local brew pub for a couple of pints. While we were sitting there watching the hockey game (LET’S GO PENS!) the song Here I Go Again by Whitesnake came on the pub’s radio. I remarked to Mike, and our barmaid Gale, that for some reason this was my high school class song (class of ’89). Even though I didn’t vote for the song (my vote was cast for Metallica’s Fade to Black), there was a certain sense of nostalgia as I listened to the song and watched the Pens, something that I did quite a bit of through the 80s and early 90s before being priced out of attending games, and turned off by the NHL’s relentless expansion teams.
Spring Tries, Winter Wins
As much as spring tries to come to Michiganderburgh, winter just won’t let it. Wednesday was yet another one of those April days here: snow, freezing rain, sleet, rain, and slush. There are signs that spring is here, but they need to fight through the heaps of wintry puke to reveal themselves.
East of Omaha
During the week as I did several Better Than The Trainer Rides™ I had an eye on Saturday and the hope that it would bring warmer temperatures, dry dirt roads, and some extended miles on said dirt roads. As it turns out the temperatures weren’t going to get warm until late afternoon, and the dirt roads remained muddy messes. On top of that Wifey was going to be back in Pittsburgh for the weekend, which meant that I was solely in charge of the boy until she arrived home Sunday. Since I don’t like to stray too far away from home–in case my mad parenting skills would be need to be called into action–I headed back to the paved roads of the B.T.T.T.R™ yet again.
Goofing Off, Sort Of
After a short and sweet foggy ride on Saturday, I took Sunday just to goof off: watch soccer football, play FIFA ’16, and make food while drinking a few dozen pints of coffee, herbal tea, water, and a few other things completely void of, and starving of alcohol. My Monday was spent doing Monday stuff along with cursing, shoveling and blowing snow, and squeezing in a quick thirty minutes on the trainer combined with my loose, slack attempts at strength training. Fun, fun, fun… (not really, not at all).
In My Ears: Rozwell Kid
It’s been a while since I spewed forth notes from my musical manifesto, but I figured the holiday down time is a good time to waste time with nonsense about my band of the week/what I’m listening to at the moment.
These days–nine times out of ten–I am late to the party compared to modern-day hipsters. However as a forty-four year old living in a small town in the middle of rural Michigan who often leaves the house only to ride his bike, I’m just happy to get to the party at all, even if the trip to said party means wading through a sea of snarky “no one listens to them anymore” comments from people young enough to be my kid and wearing a slouchy ski cap in 75˚ temperatures.