No, I didn't disappear in a cloud of smoke or get swallowed up by fissures in the earth. I survived the 21st, the day the world was supposed to end.
The reason I haven't posted in a couple of days is that the end of the semester was more hectic than usual: More work was crammed into it because of the classes that were cancelled during Superstorm Sandy and the Nor'easter that followed it by a week. Then, I had to get ready for my Big Trip.
I'm in a place with a name that begins with "F". No, it's not France. And it's not Fiji. That leaves....where else? Florida.
Yes, I'm here, visiting Mom and Dad for the holiday. I arrived last night: The plane skirted the coast and descended, it seemed, with the sun. Twilight was turning to darkness as I disembarked and my parents met me in the airport.
I know I normally employ manner of cheap, sleazy writers' tricks. But I did no such thing in my previous paragraph. I meant it to be a literal statement, without metaphors or "deeper" or "hidden" meanings!
Anyway, today I rode the borrowed beach cruiser I've ridden on previous trips here:
If you've seen some of my earlier posts about this bike, you may have noticed some differences in this photo.
For one thing, I've installed a seatpost rack. I picked it up at a yard sale for 50 cents. I didn't need it for my own bikes, so off to Florida it went.
And there's the handlebar bag. Really, it's just a nylon box with some kind of stiffener on the inside, at the rear, and webbing on the outside. It looks rather well-made, and would probably work better with some sort of support or rack. But I don't think there are very many things that would fit this bike without doing considerable violence to the handlebars or rack. (Actually, that's just a way of saying I'm too lazy to do the work and too cheap to buy another part!)
Anway..a stop at a service station brought me into contact with this bike and its friendly owner.
As I was taking the photo, a burly guy with a droopy mustache and bandana chatted me up. He said he's never ridden a bicycle in his life, but if he did, he'd want to ride "one like yours." Although I tried to explain that the blue Raleigh is faster, higher-performance (and, for long rides, more comfortable), he insisted he "doesn't understand" why a bike made for men is built with a horizontal top bar. "You know, if we stop short and land on that bar, it could cause all kinds of damage."
At that moment, I was trying very hard not to laugh and to reveal too much about myself. Of course, I knew exactly what he was talking about, and why his fears were unfounded. But I said that, indeed, some men ride "women's" or mixte bikes, and that I had bought one of mine (Vera) the man who was its original owner.
He touched his chin (something I hadn't expected from him) and said, "That's nice to know. I'm glad you explained it."
"No problem. I hope you have nice holiday."
Thank you, Miss. Perhaps we'll meet again."
The reason I haven't posted in a couple of days is that the end of the semester was more hectic than usual: More work was crammed into it because of the classes that were cancelled during Superstorm Sandy and the Nor'easter that followed it by a week. Then, I had to get ready for my Big Trip.
I'm in a place with a name that begins with "F". No, it's not France. And it's not Fiji. That leaves....where else? Florida.
Yes, I'm here, visiting Mom and Dad for the holiday. I arrived last night: The plane skirted the coast and descended, it seemed, with the sun. Twilight was turning to darkness as I disembarked and my parents met me in the airport.
I know I normally employ manner of cheap, sleazy writers' tricks. But I did no such thing in my previous paragraph. I meant it to be a literal statement, without metaphors or "deeper" or "hidden" meanings!
Anyway, today I rode the borrowed beach cruiser I've ridden on previous trips here:
If you've seen some of my earlier posts about this bike, you may have noticed some differences in this photo.
For one thing, I've installed a seatpost rack. I picked it up at a yard sale for 50 cents. I didn't need it for my own bikes, so off to Florida it went.
And there's the handlebar bag. Really, it's just a nylon box with some kind of stiffener on the inside, at the rear, and webbing on the outside. It looks rather well-made, and would probably work better with some sort of support or rack. But I don't think there are very many things that would fit this bike without doing considerable violence to the handlebars or rack. (Actually, that's just a way of saying I'm too lazy to do the work and too cheap to buy another part!)
Anway..a stop at a service station brought me into contact with this bike and its friendly owner.
As I was taking the photo, a burly guy with a droopy mustache and bandana chatted me up. He said he's never ridden a bicycle in his life, but if he did, he'd want to ride "one like yours." Although I tried to explain that the blue Raleigh is faster, higher-performance (and, for long rides, more comfortable), he insisted he "doesn't understand" why a bike made for men is built with a horizontal top bar. "You know, if we stop short and land on that bar, it could cause all kinds of damage."
At that moment, I was trying very hard not to laugh and to reveal too much about myself. Of course, I knew exactly what he was talking about, and why his fears were unfounded. But I said that, indeed, some men ride "women's" or mixte bikes, and that I had bought one of mine (Vera) the man who was its original owner.
He touched his chin (something I hadn't expected from him) and said, "That's nice to know. I'm glad you explained it."
"No problem. I hope you have nice holiday."
Thank you, Miss. Perhaps we'll meet again."
