The weather broke a couple days ago. We were melting in MPLS with 90+ degrees most days and equal percent humidity for several weeks. Today saw a high in the low 70s with steady showers all day. Much of the same tomorrow. Most likely no mtn biking at Wirth, but I'll take the rain -- we need it. This weather shift is one of my favorite things about Minnesota. It happens every year in August -- we'll get an abrupt reminder that signals the inevitable end of summer. Oh, it will still be hot for a few days here and there, but soon enough we'll be layering on the long sleeve woolies for the morning ride. And not long after that, the mitts, winter boots, balaclavas ... but I digress. Who wants to think about winter? It's time to appreciate this delicious treat offered by Midwestern late summer/early autumn.Saturday, August 18, 2007
Phoenix Rising
The weather broke a couple days ago. We were melting in MPLS with 90+ degrees most days and equal percent humidity for several weeks. Today saw a high in the low 70s with steady showers all day. Much of the same tomorrow. Most likely no mtn biking at Wirth, but I'll take the rain -- we need it. This weather shift is one of my favorite things about Minnesota. It happens every year in August -- we'll get an abrupt reminder that signals the inevitable end of summer. Oh, it will still be hot for a few days here and there, but soon enough we'll be layering on the long sleeve woolies for the morning ride. And not long after that, the mitts, winter boots, balaclavas ... but I digress. Who wants to think about winter? It's time to appreciate this delicious treat offered by Midwestern late summer/early autumn.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
The Usual Morning Musings
I get the chance to think a lot on my daily morning commute. I ride the same route most everyday, so some of the time I zone out. I arrive at work and discover that 12.5 miles have passed and I have solved none of the world's looming issues, let alone any of my own. But, generally I ponder lots of things.
This morning I was preoccupied with anger on the road. And, surprisingly, I was thinking about my own anger. Saturday night I was riding back from dinner at a friend's house and some jackass driving one of those big-Asplundh tree trimming trucks decided to verbally berate me at a series of traffic lights on Fourth going through the U of M. I really don't know what his deal was. It was 9:30 or so. The mood was mellow on the road since everyone in that neighborhood was parked in their favorite watering hole. I was following him, right behind him actually, benefitting from the tremendous draft offered by his truck. For a series of three or four lights he just decided to shout at me from his driver's side window. I couldn't hear everything he was saying (something about running lights, which I hadn't), but it wasn't nice stuff. I let my belligerence get the better of me and fired back. Pretty soon, my only recourse was to draw his attention to the fact that his truck had a phone number painted on the back for observers to call and report his driving. He said, "Go ahead and call, asshole!"
I was so steamed that I immediately pulled up on the sidewalk, whipped out my cell phone and dialed the number. Well, the only problem was in my fury I all of a sudden forgot all those numbers I was trying to mentally juggle -- the truck #, the "How's my driving?" #, and the plate # for good measure.
So, yesterday morning I get a voicemail from some guy who very politely explained that he believed I must have dialed the wrong number. He wished me luck in contacting the folks who could help me achieve justice for being treated badly on my bike. I had to laugh when I listened to that, and I was laughing at myself for being my own jackass in the situation.
My message: keep your head about you in the heat of harassment, if at all possible. Not only will you come out looking like the level-headed party, but you'll also be more prepared to take follow-up action should it be needed. Now it's time to go out and follow my own advice.
This morning I was preoccupied with anger on the road. And, surprisingly, I was thinking about my own anger. Saturday night I was riding back from dinner at a friend's house and some jackass driving one of those big-Asplundh tree trimming trucks decided to verbally berate me at a series of traffic lights on Fourth going through the U of M. I really don't know what his deal was. It was 9:30 or so. The mood was mellow on the road since everyone in that neighborhood was parked in their favorite watering hole. I was following him, right behind him actually, benefitting from the tremendous draft offered by his truck. For a series of three or four lights he just decided to shout at me from his driver's side window. I couldn't hear everything he was saying (something about running lights, which I hadn't), but it wasn't nice stuff. I let my belligerence get the better of me and fired back. Pretty soon, my only recourse was to draw his attention to the fact that his truck had a phone number painted on the back for observers to call and report his driving. He said, "Go ahead and call, asshole!"
I was so steamed that I immediately pulled up on the sidewalk, whipped out my cell phone and dialed the number. Well, the only problem was in my fury I all of a sudden forgot all those numbers I was trying to mentally juggle -- the truck #, the "How's my driving?" #, and the plate # for good measure.
So, yesterday morning I get a voicemail from some guy who very politely explained that he believed I must have dialed the wrong number. He wished me luck in contacting the folks who could help me achieve justice for being treated badly on my bike. I had to laugh when I listened to that, and I was laughing at myself for being my own jackass in the situation.
My message: keep your head about you in the heat of harassment, if at all possible. Not only will you come out looking like the level-headed party, but you'll also be more prepared to take follow-up action should it be needed. Now it's time to go out and follow my own advice.
Friday, August 10, 2007
The Yearly Saga
Once a year the Parents Fleck generously host a "Family Bike Vacation." It's always a good time. I guess, in one form or another, we've been doing this for four years now. It is really an awesome tradition. This year took us to Dodgeville (WI) where we headed to Mineral Point one day and to Mt Horeb the next.
Here we are staging outside the hotel in Dodgeville. This might be the homeland of Lands End, but its nothing like the catalog. Can you say Stripmall-ville?
Hannah cuts loose.
Headed toward Mineral Point ...
Here we are staging outside the hotel in Dodgeville. This might be the homeland of Lands End, but its nothing like the catalog. Can you say Stripmall-ville?Hannah cuts loose.Headed toward Mineral Point ...
Noah, Erin and Naomi pass through the lens.
Sylvia waits patiently while Daddy captures the voyage on digi-film.
Mineral Point offers casual bike parking in an English countryside sort of way. This is right outside the brewpub. Mineral Point is also one very hilly town.
After lunch, Naomi, Erin, Noah, and everyone were in a better mood.
We enjoyed a retort dinner in the hotel lobby. Excellent food in the company of family.
Cousins unite! Sylvia and Julian enjoy a little fun in the hallway.
The next day it was just Brian and Sabra and us. Brian and Sabra are headed to Milwaukee (then back to Dodgeville) via bike paths. We were along for the ride to Mt Horeb.
The day was grey and the that made sections of the trail seem really non-descript. In reality, the Military Ridge Trail offers a lot of variety and takes you through a number of quaint small towns.
Complementing the flatlands and farm fields were lush corridors of overhanging trees with many twists and turns.
Trail riding may a little monotonous at times, but there is always danger lurking. April got caught in some gravel on the edge of the path and went down hard. She sustained some good rash and broke her helmet in the process. It was her first "real" crash. She was a trooper. We bandaged her up and she got right back on to finish the ride.
Sylvia keeping herself happily occupied while we cruise the path.
They have a thing for trolls in Mt Horeb.
Hers and his bike parking outside our motel room at the Village Inn. This place was great. It was a very well-kept classic motel.
They just don't build motels like this anymore.
Sylvia built a tent out of a couple of stools and the bedspread. That was one of my favorite games as a child.
Surveying the damage. April was lucky. The worst part of watching it all happen was seeing her land on her head. Helmets do their job, though, and she is walking proof of that. If you ride, you're going to crash. And the more you crash, the better you get at lessening the effects. But folks, it always makes sense to wear a helmet. (That means you shouldn't put it on backwards or ride around looking all cool with the helmet strap unbuckled. We see it all the time on the city paths.)
A time for reflection ...
Sylvia and Old Glory.
A game of ring around the rosie before heading off to dinner.
This brewpub almost makes me want to hop in the car and drive 5 hours just to take home a couple growlers. The Maggie IPA was excellent and the food was very tasty as well.
The Grumpy Troll was a fine end to a fine weekend. The next morning I time trialed 25 miles back to the car in Dodgeville. Then drove back to Mt Horeb to pick up the ladies. We took the scenic route home along byways of southwestern WI and had a late lunch in La Crosse. Thanks Dad and Sabra for making it all possible. We hope your ride to Milwaukee and back is going well. Can't wait for next year!
Happy Wedding Zach and Becca!
Well now, I consider weddings a huge honor. Forget the free booze and shameless dancing, it's just cool to share in one of the most important days in some friends' lives. (It didn't hurt that Zach offered Bell's Two Hearted at the the bar ... )
Here's the happy couple looking away. We'll get back to that in a moment ... these two threw one class-act wedding replete with honoring multiple spiritual traditions.
And here they are looking on while the waiter wonders what the hell he's supposed to do. Well, serve more PBR, dammit!
I love discovering what digital photography is going to do in low light situations. In this case, it created a very eerie, yet cool, photo of Ryan and Katie. Party on.
Mom and Sylvia. Mom taught me some new dance steps. Sylvia taught me why most parents get a sitter for weddings. She was hilarious though, and danced more energetically than either of her parents (although April was a close second.)
A stellar biking day
I wish I were a professional blogger. I wish I could just post at will. But, I do a lot of catching up. That's the price of love, as New Order might say. In reality, that's the price of job, family and other things tugging at my bib straps. The up side is that, generally, most of my posts are well thought out and spelled correctly. You always gotta look on the bright side of life ...
A few weeks ago we enjoyed a very bike-centric Saturday. Our parents were in town -- well, April's parents, but I consider them my own as well. They bike and that is a good thing. Although we didn't get to spend as much time together as I would have wished, we did get to grab breakfast/brunch and ride around a bit.
The choice for a b-fast spot was left up to me, so I didn't hesitate in suggesting the T-Rock. Huge portions and a very cycle friendly menu.
The waitress was kind enough to turn down the p-rock blaring in the background. I think it was at least 10:30 ... what better time in the a.m. to enjoy a Surly Bender? Notice the gratuitous Surly (bike) logo on my rack bag?
Sabra balks at the portions. T-Rock don't mess around. Somewhere about this time I retired to the little male gender room and noticed a very cool sticker on the towel dispenser. (Note to self: carry camera at all times.) It said, "I (bike) MPLS" with a graphic of a bike in the middle. Next time, I'll get a pic.
In case you're doubting why you should pedal on over to the T-Rock for brunch ... if I remember correctly, this is the Mother Trucker. BTW Plan to pedal off those calories.
Sylvia shows her approval over Grandpa's plate. If you want 'em to live right, you gotta bring 'em up right. Later we headed to One on One. Then we pulled a U-Turn to S Mpls. I don't remember anyone saying they were hungry.
A few weeks ago we enjoyed a very bike-centric Saturday. Our parents were in town -- well, April's parents, but I consider them my own as well. They bike and that is a good thing. Although we didn't get to spend as much time together as I would have wished, we did get to grab breakfast/brunch and ride around a bit.
The choice for a b-fast spot was left up to me, so I didn't hesitate in suggesting the T-Rock. Huge portions and a very cycle friendly menu.
The waitress was kind enough to turn down the p-rock blaring in the background. I think it was at least 10:30 ... what better time in the a.m. to enjoy a Surly Bender? Notice the gratuitous Surly (bike) logo on my rack bag?
Sabra balks at the portions. T-Rock don't mess around. Somewhere about this time I retired to the little male gender room and noticed a very cool sticker on the towel dispenser. (Note to self: carry camera at all times.) It said, "I (bike) MPLS" with a graphic of a bike in the middle. Next time, I'll get a pic.
In case you're doubting why you should pedal on over to the T-Rock for brunch ... if I remember correctly, this is the Mother Trucker. BTW Plan to pedal off those calories.
Sylvia shows her approval over Grandpa's plate. If you want 'em to live right, you gotta bring 'em up right. Later we headed to One on One. Then we pulled a U-Turn to S Mpls. I don't remember anyone saying they were hungry.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Ramble on
My children will know the merits of outdoor music
in the summer
with a right mix of good friends
and perhaps a good beer or two.
I will trust that they can tell the way
between the right path and the wrong;
after all, I have explored the merits of excess
and I am still here to admit there is validity
in those experiences as well.
I remember Frank Black in Salt Lake City
We were there for a trade show
unwinding with an open bar and a free concert.
Frank rocked
and seeing old friends who then lived halfway across the country
while we were all halfway across the country rocked, too.
A couple months ago I took Sylvia to the Uptown Pride Block Party
we waded, two freaks, through a larger crowd of freaks,
to within 20 feet of Bob Mould --
Bob sang his heart out the way he always does.
I love him for that
and I hope Sylvia someday loves me for taking her there.
Parents try so hard to act young
without even being themselves.
As a parent, if I am comfortable in my own skin,
why should I try to hide who I am
from my own child?
Live and be,
see and experience,
but please, don't forget someday
to send me the URL for your blog.
in the summer
with a right mix of good friends
and perhaps a good beer or two.
I will trust that they can tell the way
between the right path and the wrong;
after all, I have explored the merits of excess
and I am still here to admit there is validity
in those experiences as well.
I remember Frank Black in Salt Lake City
We were there for a trade show
unwinding with an open bar and a free concert.
Frank rocked
and seeing old friends who then lived halfway across the country
while we were all halfway across the country rocked, too.
A couple months ago I took Sylvia to the Uptown Pride Block Party
we waded, two freaks, through a larger crowd of freaks,
to within 20 feet of Bob Mould --
Bob sang his heart out the way he always does.
I love him for that
and I hope Sylvia someday loves me for taking her there.
Parents try so hard to act young
without even being themselves.
As a parent, if I am comfortable in my own skin,
why should I try to hide who I am
from my own child?
Live and be,
see and experience,
but please, don't forget someday
to send me the URL for your blog.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
For CVO
It seems everyone is reading Harry Potter. Maybe one of these days I'll have to see what all the fuss is about. Keep it real down in NE, CVO! Thought you'd appreciate this ...
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