On Their Own Planet

I was a child in 1968.  I might not have understood everything I saw on the evening news, but I knew it was a tumultuous time. (OK, I didn't know the word "tumultuous".)  As I mentioned the other day, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated.  Robert F. Kennedy would meet a like fate two months later.  There were riots, demonstrations and strikes everywhere.

In the midst of it all, some of the cultural touchstones (and cliches) of the late 20th Century made their appearance.  Among them were two movies that became nearly all-purpose metaphors--2001: A Space Odyssey  and Planet of the Apes.

Both movies, er, films, made lots of money for their studios.  If you feel your reputation will be sullied by indulging in a taste for a mere movie, you can turn either into a film by reminding yourself that the music you hear when a chimp uses a shinbone to bash in the skull of a skeletal remain is Richard Strauss's Also Sprach Zarathrusta.  And, Planet of the Apes is based on a novel--namely Pierre Boulle's La Planete des Singes.

(I confess that I learned of the basis in the Boulle novel only recently--as in, about half an hour before I started writing this!)

Anyway...In honor of the 50th anniversary of Planet's first appearance on the big screen, I am offering this:

https://www.askideas.com/chimpanzee-riding-bicycle-funny-picture/

Watermelon Cooler?

In my youth, one of my riding partners was a bartender.  This got me to thinking about him:

I imagine that something like this would make him very popular with some cyclists!

For those of us who don't imbibe and ride, this might be for us:

"Watermelon wheels" sounds like an unflattering nickname for a slow or unskilled cyclist--or one you just don't like!

Letting The Cat Out Of My Randonneur Bag

I just did something dangerous.

It was even more risky than riding my old Bontrager Race Lite with a Rock Shox Judy down the steps of Montmartre.  Or rappelling from a rock face over white waters to a rocky shore.  

Those stunts could have left me maimed.  But of course I didn't believe that was going to happen to me; otherwise, I never would have done them. Truth be told, I knew that neither of them would last any longer than "the pause that refreshes", if you know what I mean. 

But what I did could have taken away hours that I will never get back.  You see, in the middle of reading those stacks of papers that seem to multiply no matter how much time I spend reading, I needed a diversion.  I was going to go for a bike ride, but I might not have come back--or at least gotten back to the task at hand.  

So, instead of a bike trip, I took a side trip on Google.  

Hmm..So that's what Max does when I'm not home.

And he's famous.  How did I not know?

And he dismounts even more gracefully than I do!

Please, don't tell me that Max and Marlee crashed the tandem:

I don't have a tandem.  But I don't want them to crash anything?

When I fix stuff, Marlee feels the need to inspect:

She says she can't help because--get this--"I don't have opposable thumbs!"

Do all cats use that excuse?

Sometimes I think that if dogs try to please humans, cats try to be as much like humans as possible without actually being human.  I am especially conscious of that when I'm leaving for work on a cold, wet, raw day and see Max and Marlee curled up on the couch.

Now tell me:  Which is the more intelligent species?

Oh, Deer...Or, Qu'est-ce Qu'on Peut Dire?

Around this time every year, two of my uncles took hunting trips.  They and some of their buddies would drive upstate, usually to the Catskills, in pursuit of deer or whatever else they could shoot.  Sometimes they went with bows and arrows; on other trips, they brought rifles.  I would learn that hunting season was delineated not only by the prey (deer, bear, moose) but also weapons (bow or gun).  

On a few occasions, they said they'd "bagged" a "big one" but couldn't bring it home.  (Sounds like a "fish story", doesn't it?)  But I recall one other time they actually brought back a deer carcass and we ate a lot of venison (which I liked) that fall and winter.  Another time, they brought back the antlers.  To this day, I choose to believe that they actually let their buddies take the rest of the animal:  Being the city kid I was (and am), I wouldn't have known whether they bought their "pointers" in some gift shop.

Although it's something I could never do myself, I have always had respect for hunting.  Some of that, of course, ,may simply have been a result of my love for my uncles-- one of whom is my godfather and my only still-living uncle. If nothing else, I came to see that someone who shoots an animal is very, very unlikely to turn his gun on a human being.  Also, I learned that the chase requires self-discipline and a respect for the animal whose trail you are following.  Finally, I have come to realize that a certain amount of hunting is actually necessary, as the animals' natural predators are all but gone in many areas.  Even though the thought of shooting an animal does not appeal to me, I would rather that some animals were shot by sports people than to see many, many more starve and freeze to death during the winter.

Still, I smile on those rare occasions when I see a set of antlers tied to a roof rack.  Honestly, I still couldn't tell you whether they were actually hunted by the vehicle's driver or passengers, or whether they came from some store.

I probably wouldn't care whether or not they were real if they were transported this way:

I mean, really, how can you not respect someone who cycles to the hunting grounds and brings back his or her "trophy" on two wheels?  ;-)

Seeing The Signs

Caterina, Charlie (I), Candice, Charlie (II), Max and Marlee.

I have loved them all.  I miss Caterina, both Charlies and Candice.  At least I have Max and Marlee.

They all did, and gave, everything I ever could have wanted from the likes of them.  Well, all except one thing.

I never could get any of them to do this:

For that matter, I've never been able to persuade any cat to ride with me.  

A few years ago, on New Years' morning, I stopped for a cat I saw and who looked almost pleadingly at me.  As soon as I got off my bike, he darted to my ankles and rubbed himself against me.  I picked him up.  For a moment, he curled on my shoulder and I tried getting on my bike, figuring I could start off the new year by rescuing a feline friend.  But he was having none of it:  As soon as I lifted my leg over the bike, he dropped himself off my chest and landed on his feet.

I tried a similar rescue about a year ago, on another cat who greeted me.  It ended much like the first one I tried:  When I got on the bike, the cat decided to go airborne.

Perhaps those felines--and my own--saw this sign:

Well, now I know what they're doing while I'm riding!  Hmm...Maybe that's the reason they won't ride with me. 

I Can Get Absolutely Anybody Onto A Bike. Really!

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, sometimes my biggest obstacles to riding my bike are Max and Marlee.  There are times when either or both of them will jump into my lap or circle around my ankles when I'm about to go on a ride. Or they pose on the table, in front of my bikes. They just know what I'm about to do.

So I got this idea that maybe if I got them to ride with me, they wouldn't try to stop me.  Let's see...I tried that with an ex or two...and how did that work?  But, at least neither Max nor Marlee has--as far as I can tell--any of the issues my exes (or, for that matter, I) had.  And they're certainly playful cats.  So maybe I can channel some of their energy into pedal power.

How is it working.  I think this note says it all:

From The Journey

Monday Funnies

I know that most bloggers save their "funnies" for Friday or Saturday.  But I imagine that some of you can use a laugh or two on Monday, today.  And the weather has been dismal:  Not enough snow to create a winter wonderland, but enough to turn into a glacier of soot when the temperature drops at night.  And subsequent layers of rain, sleet, snow and freezing rain encase ever-more of this city's detritus in ice.   Hopefully, they won't remain for as long as a beetle found encased in amber.

Anyway, I thought I could pick up your spirits (or, at least, mine) with some photos from the wall of I Love Cycling.

I've outrun an animal or two in my time. But I never had to keep one step (or tire-tread) away from a mad cow:

I imagine the bike needed to be cleaned after that.  Maybe this isn't the best way to go about it:

Nor is this:

After showering, you can change into something more comfortable:

I couldn't help but to think about the joke I played on Stella Buckwalter, who worked in a few NYC bike shops and owned one--Rock'N'Road in Park Slope, Brooklyn.  She had just bought a new bike, on which she installed a pair of SPD pedals.  

I found a pair of stiletto heels in her favorite color, orange, in a thrift shop.  I drilled the soles of those shoes to accept SPD cleats.

Now, of course, she never could have walked, and probably would have had a hard time riding, in those shoes.  They weren't even the right size! (I figured as much when I bought them.)  But, hey, for a dollar, I got more than my money's worth in laughs--both mine and hers.

And like any woman in New York, she complained of never having enough closet space.  I can certainly relate to that!