I'm typing this out on my phone, since I lack a computer this evening. Please forgive typos and brevity. I know that many of you read this around the dinner table or in front of the hearth to entertain your loved ones after a long day of banal nothingness and rely on my achieving a certain output in order to make the evening more bearable, but I'm afraid that tonight the technological limitations of this typing mechanism will indeed foreshorten what would otherwise be a lengthy and action-packed post, though not by the nature of the deeds described therein, but rather thanks to the stylized prose phraseology needed to encapsulate them. Though I suppose if I managed to type out that explanation, there's mo reason I can't type out tonight's happenings.
Cold and wet, but the kind of rain that doesn't seem to get past your helmet or penetrate your sleeve. It seemed more wet than it felt. First time the new bike took on wet roads, but the tires and brakes both seemed up to it and that's all that matters. I stopped at the bottom of the New Mexico hill to put on my gloves and headband. Who doesn't like to shuffle through the exposed contents of your waterproof-when-closed pannier out in the rain on the sidewalk in front of an apartment building?
Guy in a Phillips Andover sweatshirt biking the wrong way down 34th street. That's a lot if private school tuition wasted.
Roads were pretty empty on account of the holiday, though it wasn't like no one was out. Apparently there were enough people forced not to celebrate James Garfield et al. though still ensure auto-domination of the local roadways. I chose Wilson over Fairfax, because it's a little bit closer to home and I think the weather mandated (too strong a word) it. Don't know what the snow/ice/frozen rain situation will amount to tomorrow, so I don't know if I'll ride in or not. If so, I'll blog it, but I won't blog any driving or bus riding.
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