Floppy Puppy Good

Sunshine.  Sixty-three degrees.  Not at seven, but even then it was pretty fantastic.  So I raked up a storm a storm away.  Then it rained, but only barely, as we walked Frida around the pond.  

Now it gets even better.  I am putting my trailer on a bicycle and up walks Adam.  Safely back from his cross county pedal fest.  A sigh of relief!  I’ll get a full download later.  Maybe over the course of years, though.  But there he was.  Whole.  Smiling.  Good.

Next it is my turn to pedal (but only a couple of miles to the grocery).  Shopping was shopping, but when I came out, as I was admiring a well worn Lotus (the US designed and Japanese manufactured bicycle, not the English car), the owner walked up.  I am going to say Vince, but the odds of that being right are so low there is not need to change it to protect whomever he was.  Besides, he doesn’t need protecting.  He has a Bell Biker helmet, just like I did when I was a kid.  Only he bought his five or so years before I bought mine and he never stopped wearing it.  The white plastic was now yellow tan, but it was otherwise unmarked.  His Lotus was in great shape, too.  Not a scratch on it that I could see.  A miracle of careful use since it has been his only bicycle and he got it in the 70s.  His wheels are original and have never been out of true.  The Brooks professional looked great and that too was original to the bike.  He had a small handlebar bag and a small tool bag under his seat.  Both from Tough Traveler and both, you guessed it, from the 70s.  His big cookie was greasy, too.  Ya he uses it, if he is going downhill with a tailwind.  He knew the guy who designed the bike.  Vince is cool.  I really enjoyed listening to a bit of his story.

Then Lacey and I hustled to Bombers to share a burrito and fries.  We’ve become old people who share entrees.  Feels right.  Maybe even necessary.  Then to the Spectrum to see The Perks of Being a Wallflower.  Knew I’d love it and love it I did.  Go.

Now we’re blobbing in the living room listening to the hifi.  How punk of us, since it is not going to be this pretty out for another six months.  Who cares?   Not us!  The Smiths are in the CD player.  The movie made a big deal out of a Smiths song.  It also ended with a song by the Cocteau Twins (which we listened to yesterday for the first time in a year or more (spooky!).

Frida is sleeping on the freshly raked grass looking as pretty as any dog has ever.  Lacey is browsing on her phone.  I’m drinking cold oolong out of a diner juice glass.  I remember thinking these glasses were stupid small when I was stupid small, but that’s what you got when you ordered orange juice at a breakfast joint.  Today I see my nephews polish off twenty ounces of oj like it is no big thing and am glad I have and use diner juice glasses when I drink apple juice.

That’s enough to let you know that all is ok.  Terrific even.  As long as I don’t look beyond just now, a sunny Sunday in November on which I pedaled without a stocking hat under my helmet, ate a delicious burrito that someone else made for me and drove with my window half down.

Later!

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