Didn’t I point out the splendiferous hues of autumn yesterday?
Because the seasons change the fo–LOOK OUT, JORTS COMING THROUGH!
It’s the brand new “In your left.”
Jarring, isn’t it?
Oh, and would you have a look at that, I acquired a brand new bag!
See that? I didn’t must resort to the Electrical Techno-Paranoia in spite of everything:
The bag is “out of inventory,” however while you’re me nothing is out of inventory:
Let’s simply say I’ve acquired connections within the Waxed Canvas Mafia.
See, you’ve acquired your Common Mafia:
Your Velvet Mafia:
And your Waxed Canvas Mafia:
I in all probability shouldn’t say any extra otherwise you’re liable to seek out me chopped up and stuffed right into a HappiSack:
[Photo: The Waxed Canvas Mafia]
For those who see a type of bouncing alongside on the OCA with a single foot hanging out of it you’ll comprehend it’s me inside:
As for my new bag, it might be too small to hide a physique, however It’s precisely what I would like–simply sufficiently big for snacks, gloves, and that kind of factor:
Or possibly a e-book and a few toys after I’m taking youngsters to the park on Columbus Unmentionable Day:
And sure, that e-book does comprise biking references:
After all the constable would have been advantageous if he had been using a Rivendell, a motorbike so secure even a Scottie couldn’t knock you off it:
My infatuation with this bike stays as exuberant because the foliage, and it’s at dwelling on every little thing from easy roads:
To terrain of about this diploma of roughness:
So do you name this a “path?” Or is it technically a gravel street surfaced with extraordinarily giant gravel?
Both manner, something past that on the Roaduno and I suppose you’re doing what these spoiled Gen-Zers immediately name “underbiking.”
Talking of so-called underbiking, you might recall I did some in Vermont on the Roaduno’s polar reverse, George Plimpton’s Y-Foil, a.ok.a. The Charity Trip Destroyer, a.ok.a. The Pumpkin Spice Nightmare:
Within the feedback on yesterday’s put up, which addressed the topic of yielding, there was some dialogue of gravel roads and large vans. As an inveterate city-slicker, after I discover myself on a gravel street, I after all simply assume it exists totally for the sake of quaintness, and that I can rely on it being comparatively motor vehicle-free as a bonus:
“Wow, have a look at all that pristine gravel!,” I assumed to myself. “And no person else is even using on it!” However what I quickly realized is that not all gravel roads are created equal, and that a few of them are closely utilized by farmers. Furthermore, one of many gravel roads I selected was simply such a thoroughfare:
Whereas the drivers exhibited no outward hostility, I’m certain they had been considering to themselves, “What’s this asshole doing?” Anyway, all of that is to say I duly moved apart and dismounted when essential, although on reflection I in all probability ought to have made a video and ranted about how rural roads want extra protected bike lanes. Regardless, I made it to the ferry alive and intact:
And I didn’t even must squeeze a boob!
Which will or is probably not a win, relying on the way you have a look at it.
