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 take a look at that, I received a brand new bag!
See that? I didn’t need to 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 received connections within the Waxed Canvas Mafia.
See, you’ve received your Common Mafia:
Your Velvet Mafia:
And your Waxed Canvas Mafia:
I most likely 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]
In the event you see a type of bouncing alongside on the OCA with a single foot hanging out of it you’ll understand it’s me inside:
As for my new bag, it might be too small to hide a physique, however It’s precisely what I want–simply large enough for snacks, gloves, and that form of factor:
Or possibly a guide and a few toys after I’m taking youngsters to the park on Columbus Unmentionable Day:
And sure, that guide does comprise biking references:
After all the constable would have been wonderful if he have been driving 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 house on all the things from clean roads:
To terrain of about this diploma of roughness:
So do you name this a “path?” Or is it technically a gravel highway surfaced with extraordinarily giant gravel?
Both manner, something past that on the Roaduno and I assume you’re doing what these spoiled Gen-Zers at the moment name “underbiking.”
Talking of so-called underbiking, it’s possible you’ll recall I did some in Vermont on the Roaduno’s polar reverse, George Plimpton’s Y-Foil, a.okay.a. The Charity Trip Destroyer, a.okay.a. The Pumpkin Spice Nightmare:
Within the feedback on yesterday’s submit, which addressed the topic of yielding, there was some dialogue of gravel roads and large vehicles. As an inveterate city-slicker, after I discover myself on a gravel highway, I in fact simply assume it exists fully for the sake of quaintness, and that I can depend on it being comparatively motor vehicle-free as a bonus:
“Wow, take a look at all that pristine gravel!,” I believed to myself. “And no person else is even driving 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 have been pondering to themselves, “What’s this asshole doing?” Anyway, all of that is to say I duly moved apart and dismounted when needed, although looking back I most likely 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 need to squeeze a boob!
Which will or might not be a win, relying on the way you take a look at it.
