The Promise of Spring

When I left work at seven this evening it was still daylight. By the time I got to Ferndale the sun had set but the sky was still light. For the first time this year I left off my rain jacket on the ride home, though I still wore two layers of long sleeves and pants. All the way home I was remembering back in grade school, when it first got warm enough in spring to go without a coat at recess, how shy I felt at first, being outside with bare arms.

After the first mowing of the moss in the outfield . . . 

. . . the beginning of Little League . . . 

. . . and Slo-Pitch

I'm pondering a political joke

Night Riding

Lately I've realized that although I'm often reluctant and grouchy getting on my bike to ride in to work, I've come to enjoy the ride home at night, even with the dark and bad weather. All the irritations of the day fall behind, the lights of houses and cars flash by on either side, and I skim along the road, breathing deep, blowing the workday's tedium, frustration, worry and aggravation out of my mind.

Smith Road, where I turn off the northbound road to cross over the freeway, before turning on to the final stretch inside Ferndale city limits, has been a significant leg of the ride this winter. Last weekend my odometer turned 2000 miles on the Smith Road overpass. That's since I bought my new Surly back in August, meaning I've averaged about 280 miles a month over the past seven months, mostly in the winter. And I had my first flat tire on the new bike on Smith Road one night in September.

Friday night I had a not so pleasant encounter as I approached the intersection of Northwest and Smith Roads. A car coming through the intersection with super-bright halogen headlights on high-beam almost blinded me. I squinted and looked aside, but with glare on the wet pavement and puddles along the road side, I couldn't see the edge of the lane. I ran into the curb at less than 10mph, but it was a jarring stop that knocked my rear wheel crooked. My tail-light blew apart, too. The batteries fell out and the red cover landed in the car lane, where it was immediately run over and crushed. I only had to open the quick-release to put the on wheel straight, but I'll have to do without a real tail-light until spring. Or maybe when my REI dividend comes in.

Dream of the desert

Spring is trying to break through, but the storms have made it impossible to see the sky most days. Somehow March rain seems more saturating than in other months. Last Friday my feet got wet riding in to work, and my shoes were still damp at the end of the day. Didn't really matter, because I got drenched on the way home. I was wearing a pair of well-worn, two-or-three-year-old Pearl Izumi mesh mountain biking shoes, which I usually like in the rain because even though they're not much protection, at least they dry out quickly. But they were still soggy on Sunday morning, and so nasty and stanky that I took them straight out to the dumpster.
It's coming up on one year since I started my coffee shop job, and I've been remembering back to the cold wind and rain storms of last year. Last year was worse. I was dreaming then about going on an Adventure Cycling tour of Death Valley, and now I'm wishing I'd signed up, but they've already sold out three trips. Anyhow, I've got to last a full year before I can think about vacation, and even though I've been squirreling away my tip money I don't have much savings.  I can only dream of the desert in spring.