There has been no ride since my last ride. That’s a bummer, but I’ve tried to keep moving with six nine miles of Dreadmill lumbering over the past two three days. Me walking/jogging on a treadmill is not exactly blog-worthy1, but as I so often say here on these ill-written digital pages of digital suck, “yet here we are.”
In my last post, I rode my bike. Since then, I have been limited to one short trainer session and some random hikes when time allowed.
We’ll start this unneeded post back on Friday, ’cause that was the next time I did something since the last time.
As I sat and sipped my A.M. coffee on, I started to get the itch to ride. Knowing that I am full-on mother fucking out of shape and the heat outside was some real swamp-ass type stuff, I knew it wouldn’t be a long ride, but I wanted outside. The plan was to ride the paved mid-Michigan pathway (or whatever the fuck it’s called) from MP towards Shepherd, then jump off for some dirt roads and then back. All in all, it would be about a 20-mile lollipop of a loop with a dogleg left and a cul-de-sac.
But it never happened.
I type this with one goal in mind: get to the end. Fast.
Well, we’re back from Indiana, and I’m hitting the ground running like a freshly excreted dog turd onto a frosty spring lawn.
The four-day trip into America’s heartland of COVID negligence for a soccer tournament was better than I thought (in that it happened at all) and just as bad as I thought (aforementioned negligence, combined with COVID fuckedupedness and guilt).
I’ll explain a bit.
I never promised you a rose garden. Or compelling images as part of the Soiled Image Tip series, and goddamn it, I am delivering on those non-partisan non-promises!
This post falls under if you give a person who likes taking photos (I’m hesitant to use the term photographer when referring to myself) a camera, they will take photos of it, no matter how mundane the task, and ain’t nothin’ more mundane than what I do on a Saturday night (for the record most of Saturday night, I thought it was Friday, Tuesday, or Sunday).
There’s really nothing like waking up to a fresh February snowstorm. Coffee tastes a bit better, breakfast is just a little more relaxing, and the urge to angrily shit on the floor like a caged ape and throw it at the first person that walks in front of the house is just a tad more indomitable.
If you think that throwing feecus is adjectivally extreme, just be glad I didn’t venture into the messy masturbatory world of caged primates and/or their evolutionary cousin, the overweight housebound adult male human in winter hibernation mode, AKA Auto-erotic-hibernation.2
That was probably more weather-inspired poo and goo talk than you or anyone other than me wanted. I digress.
Greetings, fellow Soilers, today I bring you Reader Mail!
Why? Because I got nothing else to talk about. Yeah, I could talk more about bikes and parts like I did in the last post, but in reality, the (higher-end) retail bike biz might not even be a thing in a few months, given 2020’s perfect shit storm of COVID, factories moving due to Trump tariffs, and unforeseen consumer demand. Not to sound like a fucking QAnon Qonspiracy Qook, but if you want a bike and it’s in stock, BUY IT NOW!! Same with parts.
Wow, that sort of felt good! The holidays aren’t such a pain in the ass when they are done from the comfort of your own home and without having to drive 14 hour hours round trip to be depressed and anxiety-ridden. It sort of sucks that it took a Global Pandemic and recommended travel and gathering restrictions (that many Americans seem to have flat-out ignored because they are morons) to make that happen, but I’m not complaining.
As you may or may not have noticed (I’m assuming the latter), I took a well-undeserved break from writing this shit show for a bit. I think all the writing about my late mother, dealing with depression, and other non-published projects took its toll on my Available For Use brain cells, and I found myself like the rest of the world for a week or so; not giving a shit about this blog. Not to mention I was busy making holiday dreams happen (not at all).
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.
