So this is it. Feels like 102. That's about as bad as it's going to get, I hope.
I think that the temperature is having a profoundly weird impact on our canine friends. I saw a boxer writhing around on the grass, his own at the other end of the leash somewhere between bemused and concerned. I hope that your dog is ok. He was either really not well or having the best, most crazy dog fun ever.
I hate on really hot, bad air quality days that your normal amount of exertion doesn't quite meet the challenges of your daily commute. For example, I expect that a certain amount of effort will me get me up the hill on Tunlaw past the Russian Embassy, past the Fedex truck that's always "making deliveries" (spying) outside of the Russian Embassy, and to the stop light at the intersection with Calvert. Today, my usual amount of effort was enough to get me halfway up the hill because the swift onset of heavy breathing and muttered cursing. I pray that the Fedex spies don't have me on tape. I must have looked pathetic.
I might just be paranoid, but I'm pretty sure that a driver was trying to fuck with me by coming to very full and deliberate stops at the stop signs on 37th street. Or he was just following the law. I apologize for all this dwelling on stop signs lately- the sun and heat is making me seen red octagons every time I close my eyes and I can't help but mention them. Today's thought experiment was this: if drivers had to choose between a traveling behind a bicyclist riding down the middle of the travel lane and coming to a full and complete stop at every stop sign or traveling behind a cyclist who's close enough to the side of the road that he could be safely passed but that cyclist could roll through stop signs, which situation, assuming ceteris paribus, which would more drivers choose? Those are the only two options in my wildly reductio ad absurdum scenario. And now I'll never mention stop signs again.
I like the sound that the Prius makes when it's braking. It's very Obi Wan turning off the Death Star tractor beam. (I cannot find of a YouTube clip of this. I am sorry if you cannot recall the sound of this seminal event in Episode IV off the top of your head. I am likewise sorry that I can. UPDATE: Got it. )
My least favorite place to get cut off is at the intersection of Wilson and Quinn. Happens almost every day. The is what happens when a bike lane separates the go straight lane from the right-turn only lane. Though it's not the design's fault. I just wish that drivers exhibited more patience and let me get in front, especially when we're both approaching a red light. I guess there's no most favorite place to get cut off.
I stopped at the Clarendon Revolution Cycles on the way home to purchase a water bottle cage and some biking gloves. I plan to use to gloves for longer trips, like the forthcoming Rough & Tumble Chili Dog 100, but technically speaking, you don't absolutely need gloves to hold a gas station chili dog, but it is advisable. When I went into the shop, the air condition caused what probably amounted to 30 litres (fru fru units and spelling mandated by International Bicycle Blogging Association) of sweat to condense and bead on my face and arms. One of the shop clerks (this is apparently the term I use for anyone who works at any kind of store) actually said something about it. That's never really a good sign.
Guy on a vintage Peugeot decked out with fancy canvas and leather saddlebags. A very retro, dignified, Ernest-Hemingway-on-a-bike vibe that contrasted nicely with his gym shorts and tank top. Not every ride is a Tweed Ride, I guess.