Tag Archives | dirt road life

The Chronicles of Meh

My newfound custom of getting up early continued on Sunday, and with that, I got a shit ton of stuff done, including baking some crispy, crunchy toasted homemade muffin bread and installing an Ortleib bag bracket on the Fattishson (The Roscoe’s current name before it becomes a 29er in the future). 

Then I decided to ride.

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Dogs, Potatoes, & Vaccines

I rode my bike two days in a row.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA! Before uncomfortable white guy high fives and fist bumps are presented to me like we’re a couple of jaoffs watching fake basketball games in a Papa John’s commercial, let me say they both sucked. Sucked real hard.

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A Fatter Plan of Sorts

The past week was filled with miles on the Dreadmill, some prison-style weight training, and a tall drink or twelve of “Well, at least January is fucking over.”

I took some pics around the Cul-De-Sac-Shack (two of which you see here), but outdoor activities were limited due to a winter storm and my distaste for being cold.

Yeah, I know, nothing makes one sound old like talking about the weather, but I’m going to talk about it anyway. I’m also going to talk a little about bikes, which is something I rarely do these days on this cycling blog turned outlet for idiocy.

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Random Present & Futures

Someday this will all be over. Eventually, I will wake up in the morning and know what day it is, and care what day it is. Someday the country won’t be a polarized and divided dumpster fire, and the name of the orange fuck face in the White House will just be a despicable footnote in the pretty darn, not bad history of our country.

Until that day comes, I will keep doin’ what I do to make life fun: ride bikes, take photos, hike trails, love my wife and kid, watch the footy, drink beer, and make food.

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Sort of

This week has been a rollercoaster shit show of good days, bad days, a swell 49th birthday, COVID angst, life angst, adulting, a crap walk in the woods that yielded not one photo I liked, a somewhat OK ride south of town, and a few hours at the shop.

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No Summer Hate

Given how much I hate Michigan winters, I will refrain from hating on Michigan summers. I mean, the summers are just fine for people not wearing a 90-pound fat suit and trying to ride their bike on shadeless dirt roads under the steamy mid-morning sun.

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