an acquired taste

Yesterday, an hour or so before my ride, I said to Ms. McCaskill, “I don’t want to go outside and be cold.” To which she replied, “yeah you do.” Nice.

Today, riding to campus, I passed a dog walker that I’ve seen a time or two before. As I rode by he said, “You get around.” Cool.

I showed the girls (Ms. McCaskill and the youngens, that is) the Waltz of the Bicycles to great effect. The latter were quickly quieted and calmed (no small thing with the littlest one), and the former thinks Bakfiets are wicked smart and stylish, to the point that I should get one. Right on!

Finally, Bicycling had an article in their November 2009 issue listing 109 Rites of Passage for bicyclists, signs that you’ve crossed a certain otherwise indefinable line between casual rider and someone with a problem. The last item was “Reading a rites of passage list and finding that your own favorite one is missing.” Sure enough, after riding this weekend, I realized another: no longer caring enough about the dried rooster tail on your jacket or jersey to wipe it off right away.


2 responses to “an acquired taste

  1. I rode Sunday for almost three hours. I had shoe covers and ski gloves so feet and hands were just fine. Knees always hurt though. Looking for others to ride on weekends. Like that the roads are now clear. Low temps are just character builders.