So, a month transpired since my accident, then I got the flu. When I got over the flu, we got 3 feet of snow.
So I haven’t ridden my bicycle for 2 solid months now.
The upside is that I haven’t had to take a shower, either.
The mighty Google Van has made its way to Waterville, where you can see the recently remodeled and touristified Waterville Hotel Tavern.
Somehow it just doesn’t seem quite as authentic as it was when it was an all NASCAR / Deer-hunting hole in the wall like it used to be when it billed itself as a “mountain cookery and saloon“.
If you move north a few clicks, you can see the pine creek rail trail connector in the parking lot.
Summer Semester is finally over, and I’m now officially qualified to sweet-talk Amish ladies right out of their homespun dresses.
I plan to celebrate by riding my bike into the woods, stringing up my hammock, and doing absolutely nothing for at least a whole day.
Let me state for the record that I am generally not a fan of most of the so-called music on the radio. Everyone knows that there is auto-tune software that allows people who can’t sing to have successful music careers, so long as someone else is writing the songs.
As is turns out, you don’t need songwriters, either. The words to the songs don’t matter. It seems that even nonsensical gibberish can be turned into catchy tunes with the proper application of software.
There is no better source of nonsensical gibberish than the crap that comes out of the mouths of politicians.
So, some people have figured out that you can feed C-SPAN to the pop-music creation machine, and get something that sounds pretty much like everything else on the radio.
Now I have this crazy shit stuck in my head. I go to bed at night, and I can hear John Boehner singing “Hell No! Hell No! Hell Nooooooo!” about the climate change bill.
It’s driving me crazy, but I think I want more.
Legend has it that Kent Peterson makes frequent S24O camping trips to the moon, riding a fixed-gear, while holding his breath.
I can only assume that he is the one painting bike lanes on the lunar regolith.
It’s no surprise that some jerkoff felt the need to park in the bike lane there, too.
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