The wway home

02-08-2007, 05:47 PM

I was just riding home from the Eastgate Freeway station, not all that far.

Quite often, when I pick my route home, I try to do is minimize
unpleasantness: minimize traffic, minimize hills, minimize distance,
minimize time. And these routes become the routine way to ride. This time,
though, rather than minimize anything, I thought I'd maximize, maximize what
was good and righteous.

So, I chose a different way home. I haven't gone this way in a long time: on
the trail that runs from Phantom Lake to Larson Lake through the blueberry
farm.

The 'cross tires turned on the fine-crushed gravel. The sun was setting, and
the sky was glowing a magical gold. The marsh where all the blueberry bushes
grow smelled damp and earthy.

It was over all too soon - the trail spilled out into a neighborhood side
street, and I started to climb towards Main.

--
Warm Regards,

Claire Petersky
[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]
See the books I've set free at: [Only registered and activated users can see links. ]

02-08-2007, 11:38 PM

In article <GgRyh.22268$[Only registered and activated users can see links. ].pas.earthlin k.net>,
"Claire Petersky" <[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]> writes:
> I was just riding home from the Eastgate Freeway station, not all that far.
>
> Quite often, when I pick my route home, I try to do is minimize
> unpleasantness: minimize traffic, minimize hills, minimize distance,
> minimize time. And these routes become the routine way to ride. This time,
> though, rather than minimize anything, I thought I'd maximize, maximize what
> was good and righteous.
>
> So, I chose a different way home. I haven't gone this way in a long time: on
> the trail that runs from Phantom Lake to Larson Lake through the blueberry
> farm.
>
> The 'cross tires turned on the fine-crushed gravel. The sun was setting, and
> the sky was glowing a magical gold. The marsh where all the blueberry bushes
> grow smelled damp and earthy.
>
> It was over all too soon - the trail spilled out into a neighborhood side
> street, and I started to climb towards Main.

Sometimes the lyrics of Supertramp's "Take the Long Way Home"
rings true.

<http://www.seeklyrics.com/lyrics/Supertramp/Take-The-Long-Way-Home.html>

"If you're the joke of the neighbourhood
why should you care if you're feeling good
take the long way home,
take the long way home"

That tune often pops into my head while I'm riding.
Especially while on the home-bound leg, and feeling
tuckered-out. It sustains me. Especially if I'm
dressed-up in my funny, odd-ball-ish (but highly
practical!) way for the rain and I'm "the joke of
the neighbourhood."

cheers, & laughing in the rain,
Tom

--
Nothing is safe from me.
Above address is just a spam midden.
I'm really at: tkeats curlicue vcn dot bc dot ca

02-12-2007, 02:57 PM

"Claire Petersky" <[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]> wrote in message
news:GgRyh.22268$[Only registered and activated users can see links. ].pas.eart hlink.net...
>I was just riding home from the Eastgate Freeway station, not all that far.
>
> Quite often, when I pick my route home, I try to do is minimize
> unpleasantness: minimize traffic, minimize hills, minimize distance,
> minimize time. And these routes become the routine way to ride. This time,
> though, rather than minimize anything, I thought I'd maximize, maximize
> what was good and righteous.
>
> So, I chose a different way home. I haven't gone this way in a long time:
> on the trail that runs from Phantom Lake to Larson Lake through the
> blueberry farm.
>
> The 'cross tires turned on the fine-crushed gravel. The sun was setting,
> and the sky was glowing a magical gold. The marsh where all the blueberry
> bushes grow smelled damp and earthy.
>
> It was over all too soon - the trail spilled out into a neighborhood side
> street, and I started to climb towards Main.
>
> --
> Warm Regards,
>
> Claire Petersky
> [Only registered and activated users can see links. ]
> See the books I've set free at: [Only registered and activated users can see links. ]
>

I happened to find your wonderful ruminations on your beater Rockhopper bike
written a while back, and really got me thinking about why and how people
just love their bikes and what they mean to them on a daily basis. I bought
some maps from Adventure Cycling Association and they sent along a couple of
small stickers that say, "I dream on two wheels." Kind of sums it up.

Keep'em coming. Thanks.

02-12-2007, 04:03 PM

Claire, I was wondering today if you've ever given any serious
consideration to the pressing issue of how many angels can dance on
the head of a pin?

02-14-2007, 02:47 PM

In article <1171328636.928855.318900@m58g2000cwm.googlegroups .com>,
[Only registered and activated users can see links. ] writes:
> Claire, I was wondering today if you've ever given any serious
> consideration to the pressing issue of how many angels can dance on
> the head of a pin?

Anybody who knows anything already knows
the answer to that old chestnut.

Besides, angels don't dance. They just
deliver messages, and tussle with patriarchs
who refuse delivery. Same as any postal worker
or bailiff or deputy.

--
Nothing is safe from me.
Above address is just a spam midden.
I'm really at: tkeats curlicue vcn dot bc dot ca