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What is it about brick buildings at sunset? I think it is this: they soak up the red-orange light from the west, and glow against the deeper blue backdrop in the east. Riding past a ridgeline of old brick buildings beneath bobbing bunches of apple blossoms, nothing seems out of reach. And then the wind tells you that someone, somewhere, is making cinnamon cookies.
In Ann Arbor, I was a scofflaw and rode my bike on the sidewalk. Here in Saratoga, I've moved to the tarmac with the cars, which is working fairly well but sometimes leaves me jittery. Case in point: I generally hug the right shoulder, staying close to the white line (if there is one) or where the white line would be (if there isn't), which I think is standard bike practice. This works fine until I find myself in a right-turn-only lane, wanting to go straight when there's a car to my left that wants to turn right. What to do, other than make eye contact with the driver, move my hands about, and grin disarmingly? The hills, at least, were less devastating this time, which leads me to suspect that my problem is not being out of shape (which I'm not, really) but failing to eat well before my Monday excursion.
Earlier, I read by the duck pond in Congress Park (it looks a bit like a "b" on the map), while the tree I sat beneath dropped flowers on me. An Alpha Mallard spent his time blustering and flapping the other ducks out of his pond. Pretty damn pleasant.
(Bonus: see music tag for why it's sometimes particularly nice to get a surprise phone call.)
In Ann Arbor, I was a scofflaw and rode my bike on the sidewalk. Here in Saratoga, I've moved to the tarmac with the cars, which is working fairly well but sometimes leaves me jittery. Case in point: I generally hug the right shoulder, staying close to the white line (if there is one) or where the white line would be (if there isn't), which I think is standard bike practice. This works fine until I find myself in a right-turn-only lane, wanting to go straight when there's a car to my left that wants to turn right. What to do, other than make eye contact with the driver, move my hands about, and grin disarmingly? The hills, at least, were less devastating this time, which leads me to suspect that my problem is not being out of shape (which I'm not, really) but failing to eat well before my Monday excursion.
Earlier, I read by the duck pond in Congress Park (it looks a bit like a "b" on the map), while the tree I sat beneath dropped flowers on me. An Alpha Mallard spent his time blustering and flapping the other ducks out of his pond. Pretty damn pleasant.
(Bonus: see music tag for why it's sometimes particularly nice to get a surprise phone call.)
