Chain Ring Cowboy

The time change has me totally confused right now. I'm thinking that in a few days it's all going to settle down to normal routine. I'm three days from El Paso, or is that Two? Like a kaleidoscope, so goes life. It's a blessing to have repeat experiences, but each time I go through one, it is a twist of the spectrum effecting a variation of the previous. The past image remembered, the new one studied, when the best view appears, lock it down for keeps.

Last Saturday was a great morning to ride a bicycle. Although it was quite brisk for the first few miles, it warmed up nicely for the rest of the ride. I personally fell short of the half century mark by posting a 46.7 miler. It was great to see our newbie Steve P. Out there. He did a terrific pace for around 15 miles. I only hope that is a sign of him experiencing more fun riding in our group. Marcial was there too, who appears to be a very strong rider. I hope to see him out there more often also. Larry is as strong as ever, don't think you are going to run off and leave him, because if you try, you get burned out. So for the most part, the South Side Texas GLO MS150 faction is looking good. Still There On my way in today I was looking for the car I posted last week. It's still there. As I was tooling down congress with a good tail breeze, going down the hill, I noticed a bicycle and sleeping bag on the driver's side. I didn't even think to look at that side the firs

This car is on South Congress this morning. Being in the darkness may not have been a good time to take the picture and maybe it will still be there when I go home this afternoon. If you click on it for enlargement the sparkle effect shows better. It looks like a bunch of strange creatures emerging from the auto. In yesterday's posting I wandered over to the life/mortality subject a bit. Of course in my true fashion, leaned toward the goofy side. Now keep in mind it's early in the morning when I post this stuff, my favorite time to spill jumbled pieces of thoughts out onto the page. Sometimes after coffee and becoming almost coherent, I think about deleting the posting. But no, I leave my "out there" musings here anyway. Mainly yesterday's ditty was just another slant, tongue in cheek way of celebrating life, and all the gifts it offers. I do believe in heaven and hell, or its equivalent. There has to be a place of accountability when we leave here I believe. If

Our days are numbered it has been said. I only remember hearing that phrase when it describes someone's time on earth to short. Kind of negative, don't you think? The dieing man in the hospital with late stages of cancer for example. Under the big umbrella we all know that we each have been allotted a certain number of days on this planet. Then what happens nobody knows for sure it seems, but some people may have a better understanding than others. I personally don't have a clue. I was taught early in life that there is an afterlife with a couple of options for spending the rest of eternity. I mean, I hope I am being good enough so that I don't have to down there, you know the place that's hot and fiery. I mean, tooling around earth with all you good folks for a short 80 or 90 years is a lot of fun, but then going some other place that could last a long long long time? Oh my, I think I should be even better because I like air conditioning. Enough of the big umbrella

Today is Big Rain Day so letting Impala take me around town seems to be the best way to go. A stop by Sarbucks for a treat from the routine corporate coffee at the office was a good idea too. Packing along the giant umbrella will come in handy throughout the day. I don't mind getting wet, so if you are thinking that I didn't ride today because of that, let me tell you it's purely a safety thing. Now this is what I call FREEDOM

Martino is quite a source for stuff. His blog site is linked in the list on the right. I think bicycle folks would really like his regular refreshing posts. I like the yellow card idea, but lately I haven't had any problems and the last I remember there would have been no time to toss a magnet to the vehicle. But it's the idea.

I posted the movie clip below from You Tube. The source was from Martino's Bike Lane Diary . I wish I knew how to make it smaller so it won't overlap onto the right margin. So much to learn, so little time. oh well, it will slide down soon enough. I hope some of you watch it.

StreetFilms: Enrique Penalosa

The temperature was cool Saturday morning. It took about 5 or 6 miles for me to get comfortable in the saddle, probably because it was my first cool morning of riding in a long time. It was great fun with no mishaps. The pizza was good too. Let's do it again next year. White Noise Auditories put to rest, give the other receptors a test. Visual gaze trading information peaceful respectful. Two skins signal with tingles. Fragrances. Flavors.

The trail is lined with flowers. The summit is near. The towers stand like sentries high above those they serve. There is always a breeze and a waft of desert vegitation to tickle the nostrils. Occasional spires stand amongst the upthrust casting gnomonic shadows like sundials, reminding the viewer that life is timed. The mountain awaits you. (click picture to enlarge) Cool weather is here at least for today. The ride in was great. Tomorrow is the Round Rock Outlaw 100. Our group plans to do the 50 miler. It looks like we have a World Series coming to a tv near you soon. I don't have a favorite to root for yet, so I just hope it's a good one with some exciting baseball.

Up high on Mount Franklin overlooking the scenic Coronado area and the Rio Grande Valley. I'm not sure how many miles one can see when looking out over the vast valley lands of the Texas, New Mexico and Old Mexico region, but it's a good piece. When I became a fledgling traveler getting accustomed to not being able to see so far was notable. When I was on the last day of my bicycle trip coming from Sierra Blanca and down around to Fort Hancock, the line of sight to the horizon was a great distance. I kept waiting for Mount Franklin to come into view. Finally it was popped over the dunes seeming a tiny hill. Each hour of pedalling thereafter made the mountain grow. My destination brought me still maybe some 12-15 miles shy of the base of that mountain to the east. For all my formative life, that mountain was my land mark in which to gauge my bearing. So at the close of the 600 mile journey that mountain was important, sort of like part of the picture of "coming back home&qu

Odyssey is backed into my messy cubicle this morning. Kind of looks like a pony in a stall munching on oats before being released to the pasture. I haven't figured out Odyssey's gender yet, so I will just call him he. He's frisky on cool pre-dawn mornings, just loves to romp. These past few days, Odyssey has been lucky because after I get coffee made and move him out of my work area, I park him in the same room I am in. Yes, he gets to stay in a controlled environment.... for now. Who knows, next week he might have to go out and be hitched up to a bike rack, the hitchin rack. As we were heading almost due north this morning, as is the direction every work day morning, he kept reining to the west. Each time it happened I would have to pull him back toward the north. I've fixed reining problems with horses before, but Odyssey was pretty adamant this morning about wanting point his nose westerly. I think he wants to go to El Paso again. I might just give up the rein next

Rear flat threw me off schedule this morning. What a time for my 12 year old pump to give up on me, fell apart in my hands, but I managed to get a little air in the new tube so that I could make it to a gas station fifty center, then limp in to work. So that changes lunch plans today as well with going to the shop, looking at new pumps or at least borrow a floor pump so I can air up the tire properly. You know what though? Life Is Good.

The way Anthony had to position himself so that he could look out the window was uncomfortable looking to the Watch Committee who were watching Anthony look out the window. The window was higher than the normal exterior wall window, about 5 feet above the finished floor, on the exterior wall lined with a bench. The bench was a problem because it was too narrow to perch upon to see out the window more comfortably and it was in the way just enough so that Anthony's feet could not get close to the Wall. So there he was on his tip toes, fingers clutching the sill, his body stretching so that his eyes could barely reach high enough to see what it is that he was watching. Now the Watch Committee all sat in comfortable seats and had no problem with their duty of keeping an eye on Anthony. They were far enough away so that he didn't know they were watching, but had all the right technology to zoom closer or get the precise angle of view that wanted at any given time. Jonna was riding o

How thin an a line be? Is it always straight? When you draw a line in the sand, say to mark off a volleyball court, the line clearly delineates what's in bounds and what's out of bounds, right? Right. Even when the line's integrity is disturbed, say by a foot, the depiction is still clear. At least one can imagine the line if a discretionary call is needed at that disturbed spot on the line. What about the un-sketched line, the invisible line? The line that does not lay on the ground in the sand or is penciled on a sheet of paper? How do you label an unseen line? Can one say "Imaginary Line"? Or can one say "Boundary Line"? I am thinking about "The Thin Line Of Obligatory Reciprocation" , as it pertains to feelings, expressions and expectations. I can't seem to pin that one down. Response is the natural thing to happen as we talk to each other. Sometimes though, just to be able to express a feeling should not impose the expectation of respo

It just so happened that Shawneen got some flowers from her hubby Jeff, yesterday. They have been married for about 22 years now and the romance still seems to blossom. May they are still in some later form of the budding stage. Thanks Shawneen, I needed some flowers on my site this morning.

When can I call a flower a flower? Tender green chutes of plant quietly transform their tip into the beginnings of a bud, of which with best-laid plans becomes a flower someday. We all know that some chutes never make it to bud stage, and some buds don’t survive to flower stage. It’s the bud though that goes without appreciation of a thing of beauty by many of us, especially of us who want to enjoy the full blossom, the outward beauty that say, the rose has to offer. Muriel knew better though. She had full knowledge that the bud is the most beautiful part of the flowering process, or at least as beautiful as the rose in full blossom, the finished product. Muriel could visualize the inside of the bud and how active it was in its seemingly slow pace as it expanded in due time to burst open, reaching the goal of seducing the world with its glistening colorful pistil. Muriel didn’t always know this though. She learned this through much experience in tending flowers, forever in search of th

This morning it's hard for me to start off without some bad humor. But yesterday as I was walking back to work from the library, walking right under the shade of the Capital Building, I saw these kids here still playing. Get it? STILL. PLAYING. uugh. I spent a good while at the bike shop getting it all back the way I like it for the daily commute. That's Odyssey hanging on my car in the background of this posing dude. I liked the way he rigged his army knap sac to his rack. The starving college kids come up with some pretty awesome ideas. I bet he's an engineering student. I met DeLon Sunday under the bridge downtown. It seems there was some kind of shindig going on for the homeless. After my ride with Team Slowkill I took Ruby home so I could go pick up Odyssey. I stopped to what was going on under the bridge and found DeLon pumping up a tire after he patched it. Let me tell you, he knows a lot about bikes. I wish I knew more about him.

I came across this traveling couple last week and couldn't help but to try to find out a little bit about them. Their highly decorated bicycle makes me think they have been to a lot of places. I've never seen them before which makes me think they are passing through. While being friendly when I approached them, they were definitely private. I am sure they have some stories to tell. I will definetly be looking out for them in the future

Arachnidian wanderer. The weather was perfect for camping at the Fort Davis State Park Camp Ground the day I rode in from Alpine. Since the day before, the ride from Fort Stockton to Alpine was so brutally difficult due to the wind, and of which I want to write more about later, the ride from Alpine to Fort Davis was a welcome short ride. Not easy, but short. Fort Davis was where I made my last blog updates before getting to El Paso. Fort Davis was where I picked up my general delivery "care package" to help sustain me while I camped. By the way the skunks wanted the peanut butter and raisins as badly as I did, so I had to share. On the first afternoon I was there, camp set up and just hanging out when two guys walked by. They were in deep conversation at a slow pace and taking in the beautiful scenery and environment. When the glanced at my camp site, I think something seemed out of place to them because they had ask if I rode there. With my Trek 520 and Bob Yak trailer empt

There is a place between El Paso and Las Cruces called the "La Union Corn Maze". Corn stalks grow 8 to 10 feet high on what seemed to be about 25 acres of good old Rio Grande Valley farm dirt. Anyway, the La Union folks cut a maze into this big patch, and even provided a map for easy navigating. Let me tell you, my map reading skills were bad. Finally Matthew spoke up and gave us the direction to find our way out of there after going down the wrong path a few times. We also visited the pumpkin and watermelon patches. What a great time we had. Mom April Matthew

You see I have this sister who can do anything, not just almost anything. (Someday I will tell you about barbed wire fence clearing and roof jumping) Seeing this blanket in the hand is far better than looking at the picture, but I had to put it on the site anyway. Seth gets this blanket, I am a bit envious.

William Dobberstein, an eight octave trombone man. Anchorage misses him but the class of 66 wouldn't be the same without him. I am so glad he made the pilgrimage. Not to mention his generosity. A finer group has not been assembled in forty years. I love you all.

The three babes you see here are attending their weekly weigh in. The competition is stiff. My Mom, top row right, is celebrating her 80th birthday at Aunt Pat's house. What a fabulous supper we had, thanks Aunt Pat and Aunt Coby. (remember to click on picture to enlarge)

Big as a barrell. Mount Franklin is the place to hike. The record breaking rainfall El Paso has had this past year has put a huge smile on that mountain. At a brisk pace we topped, or very nearly topped the summit in two hours. The day's workout was exhausting. Marci drug me up the rugged trail, and all I had to do was slide back down the slope.

Five, count them, people represent that many generations. Hello folks. I'm back........ I think. My heart is still in El Paso for a couple of reasons. But work is here and here is I. Can you say Great Grandpa? As true as it is and here's proof, I still can't believe that I AM ONE. I am holding Seth Soriano, my youngest DNA link up to now. He's cool. I think he looks like me.