In my attempt to make good on a desire to read more ride reports my eyes fell on your post. And how glad they did. I love the day to day feel and how the bike accentuated the experience. I can relate to a sense memory rising to the surface while riding my bike. I remember the fall season on a bike particularly well. The cool crisp air, leaves rustled by the wind the church bell ringing in the distance and knowing it was 5 o'clock and time to make my way home in the fading light. Oh how the bike changed my life and expanded my universe.
Thanks for the post. ~Hugh On Tuesday, May 17, 2016 at 8:58:28 PM UTC-7, Mark in Beacon wrote: > > I was a bit tired after work but I still had to vote on the school budget > and pick up eggs from a friend. He said they would be "in something" and > hanging on the driveway fence. Knowing that his egg cartons are buried > somewhere deep in his shed, I grabbed a soft shell cooler and threw it in > the basket of the Clementine and headed down the stairs and out the door. > > > There were more than a dozen eggs stuffed in a plastic grocery bag hanging > from a picket, so I first took a few out, gently laid the bag in the cooler > in the basket, then tucked the remaining eggs in the corners so they would > all be on one layer. I zipped the cooler top and really cinched the cargo > net down, trying to squish the shell so that the eggs couldn't jump much on > the bumps. I rode home somewhat carefully, dropped them off and headed over > to the high school to cast my vote. (Safe and sound on those big 650Bs. > Later, I made scrambled eggs and leftover beans, bread and ham for dinner. > Super protein tonight!) > > > > <https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aT4yE81Ypv4/Vzvmesj2KiI/AAAAAAAAGiY/pXQF6iulPRo2scGm858g24UdouSOnm15QCLcB/s1600/IMG_1987.JPG> > > <https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZUJ9SceytyM/Vzvl2nxLViI/AAAAAAAAGiQ/6gupLa5QBpUhj-eHAZjxsxN2SsZTasnrACLcB/s1600/IMG_1985.JPG> > > <https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZB0zyitOrHk/Vzvmm9NpTuI/AAAAAAAAGic/g2cZUBEKtVYscispF0f-WqLpczPwssxNgCLcB/s1600/IMG_1991.JPG> > > > On the road in to the school, I saw a middle-aged woman riding a 20"-inch > bicycle up ahead. I caught up as we entered the school grounds. Her bike > had "Origami" on the down tube, so I surmised it was a folder. She had a > flashing light either on her helmet or on the clip thing women put in their > hair to hold it up, but the flasher was low on batteries, mostly hidden by > her hair, and pointing at the ground. We made bike small talk and went in > to vote. I saw our community farmer on the way in and a seamstress I know. > I knew fairly well two of the three candidates for the school board that I > voted for, and the third I knew his wife. > > Riding back home I passed a dad towing a little guy on a not-Burley > Piccolo, one of the ones that attaches to the seat post. I smiled as I went > by (I was on the road, they were on the sidewalk) and gave my bell a brisk > double brrring and dad smiled back. Nearer to home, I met a small rise in > the road and got out of the saddle. The day was starting to fade, and the > quality of the light just then resurrected a memory of my childhood and > making my way home on my bike before dinner, or late for dinner, maybe my > mom calling my name from the back door. Me pedaling up Woodycrest Drive and > onto Greentree Court and into the gravel driveway, breathing the slightly > cool spring evening air, anticipating the long summer days just ahead. > -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To post to this group, send email to [email protected]. Visit this group at https://groups.google.com/group/rbw-owners-bunch. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/d/optout.
