18 January, 2006 Temps: 17 degrees F, (-8C)
The Baron and I had a nice, uneventful commute, both ways today. The End.
Well, that’s not true, really. Both the morning and evening rides were indeed uneventful, from a life-threatening danger standpoint. There wasn’t much adventure beyond the simple fact that we were out there riding, and didn’t see anyone else around on two wheels. I keep looking for other riders, but I haven’t seen anyone else since the infamous, um, “S.N. Incident”.
The only thing I had to watch out for today was that strip down the center of the lane, between the wheel tracks. That goes from dry pavement to slush, to remnants of ice cover with unpredictable frequency. Once I settled into one wheel track, however, I could almost relax.
There were plenty of people about, walking and running and driving. One notable fellow, driving an ex-cop Ford Crown Victoria with an NRA logo emlazoned on the door, gave me a big thumbs-up as he passed. I waved and smiled. I like guns too.
Er, sorry sir! I meant “weapons”. (Pardon me for a moment, I have to do twenty push-ups…)
Whew! Alrighty then. As I said, the ride itself was routine. But there are still plenty of variables out there on that ride which merit contemplation. This morning, for instance, I saw a fellow out jogging, in cold-weather running gear. Nothing peculiar about that. What was strange were the two large men flanking him, in reflective vests, obviously armed and carrying commo gear. Bodyguards? At 5:30 a.m. in Saint Paul? Well, it’s a dangerous world, I guess…
“Things have changed since 9-11.” Yeah, that’s what you-all keep telling us. I wonder who the V.I.P. was?
We keep getting waves and hollers from kids standing at school bus stops. This is encouraging. The future looks bright from that perspective.
So, tomorrow I return to “The Scenic Route”. This is the way I like best. It is the route I spent many years figuring out, and the one on which I encounter the least traffic. This is a grand tour for the nose: from the eggs-and-bacon breakfast smells amongst the houses, to the heady aromas emanating from the brewery, and the rich scent of roasting coffee beans coming from Dunn Brothers on the corner of the Lake Street Bridge.
Yes, it is slower. But slow is what a scooter’s all about.