River Street
I’ve been putting much more effort into my photos than my writing lately. But you knew that.
Had to fill up my tank tonight, the first time since Labor Day. Riding my bike to work, even though it’s only a few miles, has made a huge difference. Plus, we’re not just shooting out to the malls or anything like that. I don’t even shoot out to the Stewart’s unless it’s absolutely necessary. But we’re going away this weekend, and I thought it might be wise to gas up before the prices start getting jacked up tomorrow because of Lovely Rita Meter Maid.
Biking to work is not without excitement. The initial part of the ride is easy, a couple quick uphills and then a long downhill sweep to the river. I go a little bit out of my way to take advantage of some extremely sweet new pavement, then swing around the train station to catch a left so I don’t have to cross traffic to get onto the Dunn Memorial Bridge. Dodge some glass on the way across (DOT does a great job cleaning it, but man do people break a lot of bottles on that thing), slide on down the other side, and then things get interesting. I have to either bounce in on Broadway, rough pavement and lumbering buses, or I go up the bike path and swing back around on Water Street, with some very rough patches and no one expecting to find a bicycle. Good for the heart rate. The ride back home is particularly challenging, because there’s a lot of traffic getting out of the city, and there just is no right way to get to the bridge — no matter what I do, I have to hang out in a left-turning traffic lane, which pisses drivers off no end. But it’s either that or get cut off forever and never be able to get across. Pick your poison. Then, all uphill, all the way home. I arrive quite sweaty. But it has just been a beautiful September for this, and, as I mentioned, I ain’t bought no gasoline in quite a spell.
No telling what caused that slip into dialect. I can only try to prevent its recurrence.
Yesterday morning’s ride was more exciting than usual, unfortunately, as I flatted out just 2km from the house. It was the rear wheel, and there were some sizeable cuts in the tire, and I was on a bit of a deadline, so rather than fight with a tube I might or might not be able to repair on the fly, I called for the sag wagon. And called, and called. My cell was acting flaky in the extreme, and no one was picking up when it would work. But I finally got through and got rescued. Had to come home, change, get in the truck and race to work. When I got there, I had two crises going on at once and some passive-aggressive crap from my staff that didn’t sit too well as I tried to get things aligned for a critical meeting that I had to race up the Northway to get to. I actually exploded, which doesn’t happen too often. Good to put the fear of leadership in people every now and then, anyway. But the whole day went that way. Today was much improved (and I fixed the flat no problem), but I was listening to some Weakerthans tonight and heard the opening line from “Leash””Had one of those daysWhen you wanna try heroin,Drunk driving, Some form of soft suicideSitting in silence andStaring at ceilings Or peeling the paint off Of things to confide” And thought, that was so yesterday.