Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Equipment info bleg



The temps are starting to drop around here and I would like to ask the folks that are kind enough to drop by for recommendations for wool riding wear. What have y'all found useful? Is it worth the money? What brands have been good to you? What should I look for? Where's a good place to buy it (either here in the Twin Cities or on the Web)?

If you're gonna ride every day, you gotta ride every day. I figure that being warm is a pretty good start...

Friday, August 29, 2008

Biking to da bar - the "Pay It Forward, SoggyDoggy" mix

I'm posting this on Friday, but this happened on Wednesday (always on Odinstag, ja?). Had the day off and puttered around the house (I'm old and I'm allowed to do this now) until the desire for coffee hit me. Jaunt up to CRC for a coupla pints of java and a nice sit down with my birthday present from the loverly Mrs, a guide book of Superior Hiking Trail.

Jittery enough from said coffee and a bit misty for the North Shore, I then headed up to Town Hall to have some cocktails and meet my old roommate who has since moved to sunny San Diego. We then joined by our other roommate -- a nice little reunion. Cali roommate went to have dinner with his cousin while I continued chatting with local roommate.

Time passes and so, apparently, does a cold front. I head out to leave to see that the rains have come. Bleah. Oh well, if you ride every day, you ride every day. I throw on the rain jacket and head home.

[Note to self -- get fenders on the Dumvee]

As I'm riding along Blaisdell, my pedals seem to stick and I stand up to make 'em go around. Next thing I realize, I'm ass over teakettle and sprawled in a puddle. Somehow I threw the chain. Monkeying around in the rain at night with insufficient light to really see what I'm doing, I flail about attempting to get the chain back on, but to no avail. I then flip the bike over and look at it from a better vantage point and I now see why the difficulty; the axle had jumped from the dropouts.

About this time, someone from the neighborhood walks out with a flashlight (yay!) and asks if need help. I graciously accept and we manage to get the tire back where it belongs and the chain on with his light and a couple of his wrenches. I thank him and tell him that he had "paid forward" any help he may received later. He seemed to like the phrase as he thought about it and repeated it. "Pay it forward," he mused as he walked back into his house.

Thanks, Mystery Dude. Pay it forward, indeed.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

No grail, but...

We've done it. We've visited all State Parks and State Recreation Areas in Minnesota (except for Garden Island -- that's 15 miles into Lake of the Woods and I don't have a boat). More later -- I'm still cleaning up and I want to enjoy my next couple of days from work.

Quickies:

Red River SRA - meh. But, it is a work in progress.
Old Mill - sweet little park. We'll be back.
Lake Bronson - okay
Hayes Lake - okay
Zippel Bay - I've never seen LotW before and this is a nice park. We'll be back.
Franz Jevne - hated it, don't go (wink-wink, really just to keep this to myself and not have it spoiled by hoards of people)

A night in Bear Head Lake and the last night in the campground in Grand Marais. Many miles, many sights, many thoughts to sort.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Biking to da bar (Mosquito Commander edition)

Overall, I'm happy that smoking has been banned inside bars here in Minnesota. I do have to say that one of the things that I miss is playing Mosquito Commander in the urinal. A great game, in the Olde Dayes when people could smoke inside, was to piss on the cigarette butts and make the ash end come off or peel the wrapping off the butt when the tobacco was gone. Chasing a wad of gum around isn't nearly as satisfying (it doesn't break up), but, hey, you take what you can get.

Regardless, it was a nice night to ride home with me darlin' Mrs.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Near the end of our quest



Two years ago while hiking around Lake Maria State Park (nearish St. Cloud), we found out about two State Park programs; the Passport and the Hiking clubs. This weekend, we've seen four more parks and hiked two of them.

The Passport Club is simply going to all the State Parks and State Recreation Areas and getting a stamp to show you've been there. There are 71 Parks and SRAs and they located all over the state. The best thing about this is that you see parts of Minnesota that you wouldn't normally go, or you would pass by great swaths of the state by taking freeways and speeding past them on the way to your destination, since, apparently, the journey is now the destination and the time spent traversing the dull countryside is just time that is better spent where ever your destination lies.

The Hiking Club gets out of your car and onto your feet at the parks you're visiting. The hikes vary from 1 to 6 miles and the difficulty ranges from simple strolls on paved paths to strenuous rock strewn hill climbing. There is a set Hiking Club path and generally they are well marked and somewhere along the trail is a sign with a code word. The word generally has something to do with the physical features, history or flora/fauna of the park.

We've now hiked 60 of the 65 Hiking Club paths (for a total of 185+ miles) and we've visited 63 parks and SRAs. This leaves us with the last group in far Northwestern Minnesota (Red River, Old Mill, Lake Bronson, Hayes Lake, Zippel Bay and Franz Jevne). We plan to close the books on both of our quests next weekend in a flurry of driving, hiking and camping. I'm not unfamiliar with the area since my dad was from up there and my mom's family is from just on the other side of the Red River in North Dakota and I lived up there while going to school at UND. I've seen many things that our fine state has to offer but I've yet to see this corner with the eyes I have now.

There will be more on this later, but I have come to appreciate things now I never dreamed I would earlier in my life. Moving slowly, away from crowds on infrequently traveled roads and appreciating small things has made this "quest" enjoyable. To see this area 20+ years later will be interesting and I'm looking forward to it. The long weekend we're planning to take will make sure that we have plenty of time and we are in no rush.

Now, what to do after this?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Mission Accomplished

For Snakebite:



Not a great picture, but you can see the Dumvee in action -- that's a cooler full of beer and ice for our neighborhood night out block party. Rides like a dream...

Monday, August 11, 2008

A Nation of Scaredy-cats

Oh, fer cryin' out loud, will ya look at this.

Organizers for the Democratic National Convention and party leaders have touted the official greenness of the upcoming convention in Denver, including everything from biodiesel buses and recyclable materials to carbon counting.

But in the rush to secure everything green -— even setting up a “hybrid-only parking lot” at the Pepsi Center -— it seems one simple and fairly obvious LEED-certified step was overlooked: Installing bike racks.

Indeed, there will be no bikes allowed within the DNC perimeter of the Pepsi Center, nor at Invesco Field, where Barack Obama will deliver his acceptance speech, DNCC organizers confirmed this week.

Repeatedly citing the Secret Service and the Denver Police Department as making all security-related mandates, including not allowing delegates, volunteers and gathered media to park a bike within the convention perimeter, organizers said not accommodating leg-powered transportation is the exception to the rule when talking about the true greenness of the event.


But you can pull up to the venue in a SUV, no doubt.

Fuck them.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

I dub thee...

Just returned from a Costco run with the Dummy and I must say I am really impressed. We loaded about 40 pounds of stuff (mostly fresh fruit and a 32 pack of Diet Coke for my junkie wife) and while chatting with a couple about commuting. The Dummy really is a conversation starter, but the chat started when I noticed the other fellow had a Trek Soho and that's a pretty cool bike.

The Dummy under load handles like a bike. I noticed a bit of a difference starting from a stop and the ride was a bit bumpier, but other than that, I was able to negotiate the crowded trails besides the lakes with ease. This is a damned impressive vehicle.

Also, the new Dummy has a name. Wednesday, while enjoying the fine products of Town Hall, the table was discussing bikes and the Dummy when an H2 went by. Mark the Carpenter noted that the bike is sort of like that, "It's a Dummvee."

Perfect. "The Dummvee" it is, then.

Friday, August 08, 2008

Unitarian Jihad

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Molotov Cocktail of Fervent Patience. What's yours?

Mrs. Yam is now to be known as Sister Rail Gun of Contemplation.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Baggie tagged me...

Old Bag tagged me with the following questionnaire that's been wanderin' 'round these hyar Inter-toobs:

If you could have any one -- and only one -- bike in the world, what would it be?

I haven't yet ridden all the bikes in the world, so I cannot make an informed choice as to which one I'd ride. But since that answer isn't in the spirit of the question, the one bike I'd ride is a levitating, jet-powered Big Dummy with twin .50 calibers on the back and a cooler.

Do you already have that coveted dream bike? If so, is it everything you hoped it would be? If not, are you working toward getting it? If you’re not working toward getting it, why not?
I've got the Big Dummy, but acquiring the twin .50 calibers is proving itself mighty difficult. I haven't started working on the levitation yet, but I have an idea where to score some jet packs.

I have a cooler.

If you had to choose one -- and only one -- bike route to do every day for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?
One bike and now one path? These aren't questions about something that one enjoys, this is setting yourself up as a stand-in for Sisyphus. What a stupid question.

What kind of sick person would force another person to ride one and only one bike ride for the rest of her / his life?
The Greek Gods and whoever dreamed up this quiz.

Do you ride both road and mountain bikes? If both, which do you prefer and why? If only one or the other, why are you so narrowminded?
Is the Big Dummy a mountain bike? Is the Bleriot with big tires on a fire road a street bike? Is an ancient Schwinn mountain bike converted to a single-speed commuter still a mountain bike? I ride bikes, and the epithet narrowminded from someone who wants me to ride one bike on one road for the rest of my life has no meaning.

Have you ever ridden a recumbent? If so, why? If not, describe the circumstances under which you would ride a recumbent.
No I haven't, but I'm willing to learn

Have you ever raced a triathlon? If so, have you also ever tried strangling yourself with dental floss?
Look at the title of this blog -- I may be fat, but I'm slow. My knees are barely speaking to me, so running is out. If chased -- I fight, I can't run. I can swim but I don't really like swimming in lakes and I'm too fat for aero bars.

Suppose you were forced to either give up ice cream or bicycles for the rest of your life. Which would you give up, and why?
What's with the absolutes? What small, cruel world do you live in? The universe is large enough for both ice cream and bikes. But, if pushed, ice cream goes.

What is a question you think this questionnaire should have asked, but has not? Also, answer it.
Boxers or briefs? I rarely wear underwear and when I do it's usually something unusual.

You’re riding your bike in the wilderness (if you’re a roadie, you’re on a road, but otherwise the surroundings are quite wilderness-like) and you see a bear. The bear sees you. What do you do?

He rambled up over the hill
expectin' me to do one of two things,
Flip or fly, I didn't do either one


Now, tag three biking bloggers. List them below.
rigtenzin
Scott
Doug

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Don't get smart with me (or, I've been Dummified!)



Stopped by to see the fine lads at HCHQ and, will any luck see the progress on the next acquisition. Mrs and I stroll in at 7:01 (just opening the door before Jim could slam it and lock us out) and there before my eyes, a nearly-complete Big Dummy.

My nearly-complete Big Dummy...

With the olive-drab color and the sand colored Fat Frank tires, it looks sort of military. Something out of rat patrol, maybe. I need to wear an Aussie Bush hat when I pick it up.

Nah, that'd be dorky. And the Mrs doesn't abide dorky.

Do ya, hon?

Friday, July 25, 2008

Noo Shooz

Mark at HCHQ brought to my attention the lack of tread on the rear tire of the Bleriot. I'd also noticed that the back end would skid a little, making me less confident in turning at speed. So I have now reshod it with a new pair of Nifty Swiftys.

My goodness, what a difference.

The ride is a bit harder, but the (slightly) thinner tires run quieter and grip like the Col de la Vies never did. I also like that they're essentially slicks -- hence the silence. Let's hope they wear a little longer than the previous tires did.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

E-rag shows off Xtracycle

Salon has an article today about the author's use of his Xtracycle. It's a light fluffy piece for the most part, but it does give an idea of how these things work.

Not that I know. Yet. I've given Jim loan of credit card and he's (hopefully) gathering the parts for my new Big Dummy. I may eventually get the blender, too.



Helmet tip to my buddy, imotoraway.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Ethanol = no fish

No catfish for you

LELAND, Miss. — Catfish farmers across the South, unable to cope with the soaring cost of corn and soybean feed, are draining their ponds.

“It’s a dead business,” said John Dillard, who pioneered the commercial farming of catfish in the late 1960s. Last year Dillard & Company raised 11 million fish. Next year it will raise none. People can eat imported fish, Mr. Dillard said, just as they use imported oil.

As for his 55 employees? “Those jobs are gone.”

Corn and soybeans have nearly tripled in price in the last two years, for many reasons: harvest shortfalls, increasing demand by the Asian middle class, government mandates for corn to produce ethanol and, most recently, the flooding in the Midwest.


Except for making ADM and Cargill rich, has ethanol done anything? All we're doing is turning diesel into ethanol...

Monday, July 14, 2008

Monday is one hell of a way to spend a seventh of your life



Because I'm back from vacation and I'm having a hard time concentrating...

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Storms, wind and failure

Friday dawned rainy and muggy. A perusal of cable channels and the weather.gov site showed that temperatures were due to be in the low 90's and dewpoints in the 70's with severe storms in the afternoon. We set up this trip with a some time to spare in case of bad weather, and we decided to use that day today. We signed up with the desk of the casino hotel for another night and went back to sleep.

Entertaining ourselves at the casino consisted of sleeping, watching TV, wandering around the complex and sleeping. Naps were necessary since we were beginning to feel pretty spent and the humidity was taking a lot out of us. We ate breakfast and then spent some time in the workout room and here we were oddly not interrupted. We wandered down to the bar for a drink or two before "Prime Rib" night at the buffet. After a couple of drinks, we felt sufficiently numb for the spectacle that was the casino's buffet.

More...

This is a blog called Fat Boy Biking. As advertised, I'm not slim, but I'm much better than I was and I'm in at least good enough shape to ride around Minnesota, as we're learning. But watching the herds of gooey Midwesterners filling their slavering maws at an all you can eat buffet, made me feel absolutely emaciated. Watching a 13 year old girl (already pushing 200+ lbs) go for her third double-fisted trip to the dessert bar is horrific and compelling. Seeing the rest of the family gives me a fairly good idea of where she learned her dietary habits. I imagine geese getting ready to become Fois Gras with a better sense of self-control than the folks in this room. It does wonders to appetite to see this and I'm tempted to bring a camera and film it and to sell the tapes as weight loss aids. Oh, the the prime rib sucked, too.

Feeling a bit queasy, we walked around the complex to check out the weather and satisfied that a storm was indeed on its way, headed back to the room to watch the local weatherpersons work themselves into a lather. From the fifth floor and facing west, it was patently obvious that something big was coming, and the high pitched squeals from the TV only cemented it for us. Around 8:00 PM, we could see the approaching squall line and the winds whip the trees. The fury of the storm descended, with the violence almost completely obliterating the view from our window. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the sun showed through the clouds and we witnessed a beautiful sunset. Glad I wasn't biking through that...

We watched TV until the storm had passed into Wisconsin and Robot Chicken was over and then got ready for our last leg of the journey. We were warned that the weather would be "cool but windy," but we had no idea how windy "windy" was. We slept and looked forward to getting home.

We awoke early, packed, breakfasted and left and headed directly into the wind. "Windy" consisted of soul-grinding gusts howling directly at us. The roar in my ears sounded like a laugh track of the gods, punishing me for my hubris on the century the Wednesday previous. We covered 11 miles the first hour, and finally, blessedly, we turned away 90 degrees and into some tree cover to some respite from the tempest. When you have to pedal hard to go downhill, you're in for a long, difficult ride.

The forces of nature decided to team up with fate this morning and my squeaking handlebars, clicking crank were now joined by a more ominous sound, some new tick from the back wheel. After we stopped for lunch in Braham ("the Homemade Pie Capital of Minnesota" we were cheerfully told by the city's sign), things sounded much, much worse. I had developed a crack in the side of my rim that was clearly separating and spreading. The wind had taken a lot out of me, but the various noises from my bike had been joined by the cracked rim and a vicious wobble from the front of the bike and these destroyed what was left of my will. I was beaten.

I called my brother to see if he was available, and luckily I turned into an excuse to leave the Anoka County Fair for a rescue operation. I told him to meet us in Cambridge, the next town of any size in the area. I was going to limp along the final ten miles and hoped that the stricken bike would make it. A seemingly endless uphill against the wind for the 45 minutes it took to reach the Perkins was enough time to have him join us and load the bikes into his pickup. We drove back to Minneapolis and he dropped us off at home. Getting home in an hour certainly made me feel even worse after I figured it would have probably taken us over six hours of riding and who knows how many stops to cover the same distance. We showered, went to Town Hall for a drink and then took my Mom out for dinner to thank her for looking after the dog.

I'll probably write more about this later after I digest what happened and find out what needs to be repaired and maybe why it broke. I was willing to ride against the wind to finish this ride and that's because Mrs Yam wasn't about to stop. But I didn't finish it on my bike and that leaves me disappointed and sad for the failure to complete our journey. 430 miles isn't bad, but it isn't the 490, but I have an idea to do a day trip up to Cambridge and back to close the loop. Right now though, it probably won't be for a while as I'm pretty sunburned, weary and just plain grumpy to consider it seriously.

Time for bed -- my bed. That helps this day go down. I think I'll stay off the bike for a day and work on my gardens.

Good night.

Friday, July 11, 2008

A day off and the Munger trail

We're now in the casino in Hinckley and this isn't a place that we're used to at all. If you are a person that likes the structured and sterile "fun" that a Disneyland provides, this place may be for you. More on this later.

Duluth was great, as usual. We had absolutely exquisite weather with warm sun and cool air. We didn't do much; sleep in, wander around and just sort of be off the bike and rest the legs a bit. They had a something going on called "Sidewalk Days" where Superior Street was blocked off for a couple of blocks west of Lake Ave and the local merchants had their wares on display in the street and games, rides and food.

We then walked down Superior to W-Trek outfitters to check out their gear. I like the store and we met the owner the last time we were in Duluth. He remembered us and asked if we finally decided to drink the whisky. We had indeed followed his sage advice and cracked the MacCallan -- any time you drink a 25 year old whisky is a special occasion. I bought a cool t-shirt and then we wandered away for a little lunch.

More...

We had a snack and a Margarita at Casa del Sol, enjoying the effect of the cool air and the tequila. The chips were welcome too. We then wended our way to Fitger's to see what was going on, looking into the shops and eventually perusing the beer list (I had brought a Nalgene growler and I wasn't going off empty-handed). Duluth commuter champeen Doug returned my call and we set up a time to meet for dinner up the hill.

We had a lovely dinner at the Chester Creek Cafe and it was a real nice change from the lowest common denominator food in Canal Park. Doug and Susan are very pleasant and interesting people who have quite the story -- quitting everything and spending time hiking the entire Appalachian Trail was quite inspiring. We chatted about biking, life, composting (I learned about worm juice!) and food among other things. We ended up closing the place and they were kind enough to drop us off at Fitger's so I could fill my growler. We then went back to the hotel and slept -- tomorrow was another bike day.

Thursday dawned cloudy and cool with the promise of rain. Since this is July, we didn't bring much in the warm clothes department and the water was the last thing we needed was to have waterproof and warm clothes. So it goes. We crossed Duluth and rode out to the Munger trail head through the part of town that actually works for a living, quite the change from the boutiques and restaurants of Canal Park. I'll have to tip my helmet to Duluth for the bike lane signs that they put up, signs that point out how to get to different parts of the city and arrows showing the way, not unlike Portland.

We found the beginning of the trail and started heading out to Carlton -- a 15 mile climb that you really don't notice since it's an old railroad bed. As we rode through the rocks just out of town, I saw something I doubted I'd ever see with my own eyes, Minnesota's state flower, a Showy Lady's Slipper! These are rare as they don't set seed often, have a habitat that is not really found anywhere near where people tend to be and don't usually make it to flower since they're a tasty treat for deer. But here it was, just next to the trail plain as day. They are as beautiful as the pictures portray. As I was taking pictures, a local couple riding by stopped and we chatted. A couple more pictures and back on our way.

The Munger trail is an old railroad bed that has been paved and so the best description is dull. No turns, no hills, no nothing. After you leave the port area and pass over the St. Louis River, no much happens except miles. You climb to Carlton and are welcomed by a filthy pit toilet and a picnic shelter with a sign that says that you can't put your bikes in there. Welcome to Carlton, indeed.

We pedaled through a light rain along the Northern border of Jay Cooke State Park which managed to chill us down even farther. The rain eventually stopped, and we biked through the damp forests and fields until we finally found a place to get some lunch in Mahtowa. There isn't much left here, but the proprietor of the little store had the decency and foresight to make a welcoming place for cyclists with benches, a clean bathroom and good snacks. I'd recommend this as a model for towns to attract riders and help make tourism a way to create a little revenue.

On through a bit more drizzle through Barnum and a stop for an iced mocha in Moose Lake. By now, the sky was beginning to clear and the sun felt quite good. Not much else happened, just pedaled the miles away. Neither of us were feeling all that strong and the ride is pretty, but dull, so there was nothing really inspiring except finishing and getting some dinner. There is a bit of interesting trail around Rutledge -- it actually turns quickly and climbs and falls. Oh, and the Black Flies come out there too...

This turned out to be the inspiration we needed to keep going. The little bastards were taking large chunks out of me (apparently, I'm tastier than me Mrs) and they were landing in the holes of my helmet and I really didn't want that. 15 mph was fast enough to keep them from landing, so we busted ass to keep them away. Between the fast finish, the humidity, the cold and the boredom, all we wanted to do was to finish, shower and eat. We finally made it to Hinckley and the Casino and we were quite happy to get a room and crash. We opened the growler (the 20/20 IPA) and toasted our survival and cleaned up for dinner.

We were both pretty zapped from the ride and Mrs Yam even more than I. The beers and and fatigue created a sort of surrealistic haze as we entered the casino. I don't gamble (with a degree in Math, you learn that you really don't win) and the creepy vision of row upon row slot machines with old people poking buttons completely detached from their surroundings. The first suck--, uh patron, was a woman with an oxygen bottle tapping at a machine like a rat smacking a feed bar. Wading through this hypnotized humanity to get to the buffet, I sort of felt like Hunter Thompson.

Dinner was really weird. We were starved from the road, but LCD food yet again -- a sort of Old Country Buffet as designed by Starbuck's. If an all you can eat steak buffet doesn't look good after 85 miles, you're doing something seriously wrong. After eating half of my steak, I could confirm that they were indeed doing something wrong -- all that would go through my addled mind was Rodney Dangerfield's lines in Caddyshack.

We ate the other stuff and wandered up to bed. Mrs Yam was asleep in literally seconds after hitting the bed, while I watched Jon Stewart for a couple of minutes before dropping the remote a couple of times, thus convincing me to go to sleep also.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Easiest. Century. Evah.

100 miles is easy. All you need is a good road, a good breakfast, a good riding partner.

Oh, a 15-20 mile per hour tailwind.

We left the cabin early in the morning with the promise of a good tailwind, a partially cloudy day and cool temperatures -- perfect biking weather. We rolled into Grand Rapids and some groceries and then to the neat coffee shop they have there called "Brewed Awakenings." The woman behind the counter had heard of our journey from Mrs. Yam's sister and set us with a couple of large iced mochas and some cookies. We then went to the bike store and got some gloves (we started losing feeling slightly in a couple of fingers), checking tire pressure and tightening the stem on my bike as it had developed a nasty creak.

Highway 2 is surprisingly pleasant to ride on; good shoulder, considerate traffic and a beautiful view along the way. We stopped for water breaks, ice cream and lunch but no need for the long rests that we needed Sunday. The difference in the temperature was as important as the tailwind; 73 and dry versus 88 and humid. We followed the highway until we got to Proctor and then headed for the Skyline Parkway as suggested by Duluth routemaster Doug.

Skyline parkway is a road that runs along the ridge overlooking Duluth, a road that twists and turns and climbs and falls like nothing in the Twin Cities. There are no straight sections and the potential oncoming cars had Mrs Yam a bit unnerved. The road is in fairly bad condition but the views are magnificent, but not enough to keep us from wanting off. Unfamiliarity with the road and heavily laden bikes are not the ingredients you should be adding to this stew. Since we're staying in Canal Park, we decided to turn down Lake Ave and head to the hotel.

Yeep! It's straight friggin' down! Not sure on how to handle this, I thought that we'd just switchback down the street; down a block, over a block, down a block, etc. But the thought of that descent of the first block was too much for Mrs Yam and she hopped off her bike and hoofed it down the eight blocks to Superior St. The walk is nearly as treacherous as the ride. I don't know how y'all ride in this town...

We got to the bottom alive (much to the Mrs' relief) and found out that we were a mile and a half short of a century, so we headed up the boardwalk trail and back to round it out. The last 10 miles had really worn on me darlin' Mrs and she seemed quite pleased to check in and shower.

In all honesty, me too...

Monday, July 07, 2008

Up to the Northland

I write this from the deck of the cabin on Bass Lake ust north of Cohasset, Minnesota. Mrs Yam and I persevered and found our way up here yesterday evening, for a total of 214 miles. We ended the ride by coasting down to the lake and throwing ourselves in, causing much consternation for a woman and her children who seemed to think that we intruded on their beach. Sorry to harsh your mellow, sister.

The first day we declared our independence. Cliche, I know, but to mount the bikes and confound the in-laws by stating that we're biking and we'll meet you in Grand Rapids. No, we don't need a ride. No, it doesn't sound as bad as you think. In fact, we're looking forward to it.

It's a test. When my darlin' bride suggested that we bike there, I was apprehensive. Not that I doubt my ability -- self delusion is a very powerful protective measure -- but I feared that she wouldn't be able with the bike she rides to work. A visit to the fine folks at HCHQ and the addition of a LHT to the family assuaged my equipment fears. We've been riding daily to work and for errands, but these would be the longest days we've ever ridden together. Could we mount the bikes the second day? How would the weather behave? Technicals await? Would we even be speaking to one another? The bikes were built for the miles, but would our tender legs and marriage survive the ride. No amount of self-delusion would stay my nagging concern.

More...

We mounted up and started our journey on an extraordinary day, cool morning, steady tailwind, and not a cloud in the sky. We fortified ourselves with iced mochas and bars from Urban Bean and amazed a legshaver with our plans to ride to Northern Minnesota. He seemed pretty surprised that a couple of Freds could ride that far. Through an abondoned downtown to Second and followed the bike lane until we hit a path I had never seen before, which led to a nature park along I-94 around 49th that was stunningly gorgeous. Wildflowers everywhere and some of the nicest people I've met in the Park System. We'll definately be going back.

From the park we followed the path along the river and crossed on 694. This was a mistake as we eventually lost the path I was trying to follow. We ended up in Coon Rapids and we ended up on a busy road into Anoka. We had lunch and met another of the many looks of disbelief when we told the waitress of our plans. Good wishes were offered and we left. Through suburban tracts and traffic and they thinned to farms and open fields. The weather was still nice and we were making pretty good time. We stopped in Nowthen for an iced mocha -- a convenience store creation from a machine -- and chatted with a couple out on their Harley, just riding around enjoying the day. Can't blame them, really. Well, except for the Harley, but more on those later.

A stop for Mr. Mistys, uh, Arctic blasts now I guess, in Princeton and a stop to marvel some tasteless inflatable yard ornements. We eventually pulled into Milaca and our hotel around 7 PM, showered and had dinner. We called our moms and went to bed, surprised and satisfied with our day. We wondered how we would do tomorrow, but there was hours of sleep between now and then and we'd come across that soon enough.

The next day found us feeling great and eager to go on. Continental breakfast and we were off. It was hazy and the promise of humidity was in the air and the sun was already warm. The course I had plotted has us parallel 169 on county roads until Onamia where we'd ride by Mille Lacs-Kathio State Park and onto 169 to get around Lake Mille Lacs. The problem is, the maps never tell you the surface of the road and the trip to Onamia was on gravel. This slowed us down a lot but we did see some beautiful things, fields, marshes and the beginings of the coniferous forests of Northern Minnesota. About two miles from Onamia, we turned west onto another gravel road, this one far more loosely packed than the previous 23 miles worth and on a loaded touring bike, loose-pack is treacherous. I almosed biffed it when I misjudged the condition of the side and sank into the sand, causing me to almose lose the bike as it slid out from underneath me. The consolation of this was the butterflies -- thousands of little black butterflies were on the side of the road and as I passed, they took flight delighting me darlin' Mrs who was riding through them.

We got a call from the in-laws asking us where we were and much to our surprise, we would be in Onamia at the same time for lunch. We crossed 169 on the Soo Line ATV bridge, washed up and met them as they pulled into the parking lot. We related tales from our journey thus far and our route plans, good wishes were wished and we parted company. We headed west out of Onamia and past the park, stopping for water and conversation with the rangers at the desk. We took the old 169 along the lake to avoid the traffic the best we could, but there were times when we had to ride on shoulder of the highway. Barely muffled trucks with headers pulling boats, packs of Harleys with straight pipes and general vacation traffic was bordering on nerve-wracking.

We trudged on, the road hot from the sun and humidity and wind extracting and carrying off our life essence as we rode through the hell that is 169 in summer. A stop in Garrison for chocolate milk, fruit and candy bars brought back some life and we gamely soldiered on. After the Y in the road to Brainerd, traffic thinned noticeably and we continued on mostly unmolested by the loudest and most awful of the vehicles. I had originally planned to take some more country roads that paralleled 169, but since the worst had passed, we decided to take the direct route up 169 to Aitkin.

After an hour of pedalling, we made it to our hotel but decided that we would have a drink before checking in. A drink turned into another and soon we were ready to order dinner. Mrs Yam checked in, I ordered two prime rib dinners and a couple more drinks. Gosh, those gin and tonics were refreshing. The rib arrived and, well, left almost as promptly as they appeared. Biking does give one a bit of a hunger, doesn't it. We carried our bikes up the stairs to our room under the disbelieving eyes of the children in the entryway, unpacked, showered and slept. We needed to get ready for t
he worst ride yet.

As hot as Saturday was, we were nowhere near as prepared for Sunday's swelter. The tailwind that we had with us for the last two days turned on us. The hot, sticky wind would be our demon -- seemingly in our faces no matter which way we headed. The temperatures were as hot as the previous day, but the humidity was greater and the swamps that lie between us and Grand Rapids offered no shelter from the wind or sun. A long hard slog. When it was first suggested that we bike to the cabin, this was the ride I feared; bugs, sweltering heat, wind and scrub. Here, I realized my nightmare ride. After an hour, we stopped for some water and rest under a little shade and I could tell that we were going to have to ride the ride Mrs described as "the mental part." To quote me Mrs, "the first leg is easy because it's new, the second day would test our bodies after the first day but the third day would be the mental day." Yes, yes it was.

The heat and the boredom were starting to really get us, the water was almost gone and the squeaking from my chain from yesterday's ride through gravel was grinding at my psyche. We stopped speaking to one another and just kept going. There isn't much in the line of civilization up here and just about the time I was about to turn into a raving, gibbering idiot, we stumbled across a bar. Like an oasis, it was the only thing at the intesection of 169 and Nowhere, but it wasn't an illusion. It had water and air conditioning and Bloddy Marys and cold Coke and beer. We listened to the local drunk tell his stories to the regular patrons, got differing opinions on the distance we've yet to ride, but it was magnificent.

We filled our bottles, thanked everyone and pressed on. The heat and stickiness were still there, but it didn't seem as oppressive as it did an hour ago. We pedaled for an hour to Hill City, had lunch at a charmless roadside bar and pressed on. Along the way, I thought that it might be be better if we went around the west side of Pokegama and arrived at Cohasset from the south instead of riding through Grand Rapids to highway 2. Just before the turnoff, we found yet another roadside bar with a helpful bartender and a some drunk lady that kept offering to draw us a map, and would stop, slurring "Honest to God, I'd hate to see you get lost" and then look for a piece of paper and then tell us to go through Grand Rapids. Then the show would start over again, with another slurred request for piece of paper, the feeling of guilt at our potential dislocation, and the directions to Grand Rapids. After this occured several more times, we politely said good bye and ducked out in a hail of "Honest to Gods" and "lemme getcha a maps" and mounted our bikes. The bartender came out and commented on our "ten speeds." We thanked him and rode the last half dozen miles down 169 (his suggestion) to Grand Rapids.

We picked up some sodas and fruit at a grocery store and played "spot the local/tourist" as people came in from the parking lot. We also had a pleasant conversation with a fellow from Iowa who was a bicyclist also. We spoke to the Lake People and told them that were were on our way and that we were in Grand Rapids. They didn't bother to tell us that cabin was a full eight miles from Cohasset and that messed with our heads. We were under the impression that the lake was nearby Highway 2, but instead it felt that we kept riding and riding and that we would never get there. It was then that a search party made its first contact with us -- a brother and his daughter were on bike and told us we weren't far. We headed back with them as our escort and eventually a crowed cheered us into the resort. They directed us to the lake and glided to the water and we dismounted and dived right in. Beers and dinner and tales of the road followed and and head shakes and muttered lines of "you're nuts" and "I can't believe you did it." We fell asleep to the sound of loons happy in our successful conclusion.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

The epic journey begins

Tomorrow, me darlin' Mrs and I load up the Bleriot and the LHT (henceforth to be known as the Green Goddess, as christened by MDM) and head north to Grand Rapids, Duluth and back on a bicycling vacation. Three days to GR, a century to Duluth (even if we have to do circles in the hotel parking lot to reach 100 miles) and then two days back.

Hope to post pictures and stories from the road as the week progresses. Also, we hope to spot the Great Northern Minnesota Crested Commuter (aka MNBicycleCommuter; aaka Doug) whilst in Duluth. Here's crossing my fingers that the weather holds and the pinch flat ghoulies are elsewhere...

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

SOLD!

for $10,000.

Jim, put on the lycra I like so much, I'm comin' to chat...

Monday, June 30, 2008

Black Velvet Apricots

No, it's not some new dirge-pop band from Denmark. It's a summer stone fruit that I've become enamored with recently. Plum sized with the rich, nectar-like juice of an apricot, but with a deep tropical creaminess like a mango or papaya added.

Get 'em before they go away.

Friday, June 27, 2008

You have got to be kidding me

A new Amendment presented by the moralists:

110th CONGRESS 2d Session

Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage.

IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES JUNE 25, 2008

Mr. WICKER (for himself, Mr. VITTER, Mr. CRAIG, Mr. ROBERTS, Mr. INHOFE, Mr. BROWNBACK, Mr. ALLARD, Mr. THUNE, and Mr. SHELBY) introduced the following joint resolution; which was read twice and referred to the Committee on the Judiciary

JOINT RESOLUTION

Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage.

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled (two-thirds of each House concurring therein), That the following article is proposed as an amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which shall be valid to all intents and purposes as part of the Constitution when ratified by the legislatures of three-fourths of the several States within seven years after the date of its submission by the Congress:

"ARTICLE"

Section 1. This article may be cited as the Marriage Protection Amendment.

Section 2. Marriage in the United States shall consist only of the union of a man and a woman. Neither this Constitution, nor the constitution of any State, shall be construed to require that marriage or the legal incidents thereof be conferred upon any union other than the union of a man and a woman.


Sponsor:
Sen Wicker, Roger F. [MS] (introduced 6/25/2008)

The full list of co-sponsors:
Sen Allard, Wayne [CO] - 6/25/2008
Sen Brownback, Sam [KS] - 6/25/2008
Sen Craig, Larry E. [Wide Stance] - 6/25/2008
Sen Enzi, Michael B. [WY] - 6/26/2008
Sen Inhofe, James M. [OK] - 6/25/2008
Sen Roberts, Pat [KS] - 6/25/2008
Sen Shelby, Richard C. [AL] - 6/25/2008
Sen Thune, John [SD] - 6/25/2008
Sen Vitter, David [Pampers] - 6/25/2008

A bathroom-trolling closet case and a whore-chasing, diaper fetishist are telling me about how marriage should be. Words fail me...

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Bug factory

While the HC crew rode alleys and others rode epic border crossings, me darlin' Mrs and I went North and West for to hike and 'splore areas of our great state. This past weekend we found us on the border of the prairie and forests where the last of the glacial lakes lie: Glendalough, Maplewood, Buffalo River and Big Stone Lake.

We took a half day from work and headed up towards Glendalough, which is about 25 miles east of Fergus Falls. This is another surprisingly gorgeous park with forest and prairie and utterly clear, sand bottom lakes. There are no drive in camping sites so there isn't the accompanying noise and commotion that comes with huge trailers and lots of car traffic. We set up camp in a grove of oak trees. A pleasant breeze ran through the park and everyone there was enjoying themselves -- kids racing around on bikes (but no screaming!), couples walked past hand in hand, and families coming back from an afternoon of fishing, smiling and showing off their catch. It was idyllic except for a hidden menace that lie lurking just below the surface of this peaceful scene.

Apparently, this is where the hidden tick factory for Western Minnesota creates its creepy spawn.

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These transition areas are where deer like to live -- not too far into the woods to hide and not too far into the prairies to eat. With the deer here, deer ticks can't be too far behind. Or ahead, or to the left or the right. I have never seen so many ticks in my entire life. We must have pulled 50 ticks off of each other over the course of the weekend and Mrs. Yam is still a bit jumpy at the slightest tickle be it a breeze from vent or a pant leg barely grazing exposed skin.

Glendalough is a former retreat for the big Minnesota newspaper families and has been preserved quite nicely. It is on a couple of small, very clean lakes and the DNR has started bringing back some of the native prairie to the areas that aren't forested. The hike was around Annie Battle lake that was really quite striking with the beautiful evening, light breeze and clear skies.

Saturday found us on our way to Maplewood State Park. It wasn't far from Glendalough, you just had to wander your way through all of the lakes that dot that area of the state. It was nice to see lakes with the old style cabins, you know, little ones with a maybe three rooms and that great screen door held shut with the long spring that went "goyng goyng goyng" as you walked through and then would slam shut with a satisfying crash. Not like the 48 room "cabins" you see on lakes around Brainerd. Fishing boats and resorts from the 50s still abound -- it all looks like an ad for Schmidt's Beer...

This was the longest hike of the weekend with a length of 10 kilometers over surprisingly hilly terrain. This is also the last of the great Eastern Hardwood forest before the prairie takes over and where the glaciers stopped, with the moraines and the lakes evidence of their passing. Sheila, our dog is about 10 years old and is beginning to slow down and the hills and heat were just a bit more than she was able to do. We stopped a couple of times to look at the maps and the poor thing would climb in the tall grass and collapse, panting. So, for her sake, we cut short our walk and headed back to the car. Since Maplewood is a large park, we didn't really shorten our walk all that much, we just hiked on the road, but that seemed to make all the difference for her and she seemed to improve. When we arrived at the parking lot, she crawled under the car and went right to sleep.

The next stop was Buffalo River which is east of Moorhead on highway 10. This is a small park, but it is magnificent in that you get to see the prairie. We saw a thunderstorm roll past us to the north and caught a few drops during our hike. The route first takes you past the pool and into the woods that run along the river and this was the most mosquito infested place I'd ever been in. They were so plentiful, that at times it felt that you were covered in them. Glance down at your leg and you would see 10 at a time. We basically started to run to leave the riverside and get to the prairie where we would rather take our chances with the ticks. Hell, even the visitor's guide to the park says that the place is best viewed in the Spring or Fall since it's so buggy.

We completed the short walk and headed back to the camp. On the way, we stopped in town and had dinner since we were really hungry and didn't want to wait for a fire and food prep. Bought some beers (Brau Brothers Pale Ale) and the Mrs. was delighted to find that the liquor store carried Shakers Rose -- a vodka that is flavored with the flower and is a lovely pink. I believe Shakers stopped making it, so she was happy to score a bottle. Back to the tent, built a fire and stared at it until, one by one, we were the last campfire burning. Then, we too extinguished ours and hit the bags.

I awoke early on Sunday and began breaking camp as the Mrs and Sheila slept. I was about halfway done when she arose and we proceeded to pack the car and leave for the last park -- Big Stone Lake. This park lies on the border between Minnesota and South Dakota in that bulge on the western edge of the state. It wasn't necessarily close to us, but it is the last park in the southern half that we haven't visited yet and this was as good an opportunity as any. We drove through the flat farmlands and then became amazed as the terrain changed from billiard table farmland to rolling pastures. The lake seems like it's really like Lake Pepin in that it's a wide part of a river more than a standalone body of water.

After descending the bluff to the park, we found we were the only ones there. A beautiful sunny Sunday, hot and bright and no one at the park or on the lake in a boat seemed a bit odd, but we were happy to have the solitude. This walk is in an oak forest along the lake and is a short there and back. Quite lovely, I was afraid it would be like hikes some of the other southern parks where a small river is dammed up and a park is set around the lake. These are usually dull, short and crowded with campers, if you can really call dragging 40 feet of hotel room behind a pickup and setting your TV on a stand by the fire "camping." No campgrounds, a couple of boat landings and that's about it.

Four parks in 2 and a half days, 12 miles of walking and 50 ticks later, we headed east on highway 7 back to home. We pulled ticks out of our toes, our sandals, the dog and even when we were 100 miles from the last park, ticks were still crawling around the car. Ew. Smoky, sunburnt, tired (we don't sleep well in a tent) and content. Another good weekend.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

For Sale

2003 Honda Civic LX. 4 door, 5 speed manual transmission. A/C AM/FM/CD. Dark blue with some cosmetic scratches and dings. Runs well. New tires.

I'll update the miles when I look at the odometer (right now, my guess is ~50,000)

No, there's nothing wrong with it, I just don't drive it and I don't want to pay the upkeep on something that is taking up room on my driveway. I'm gonna buy a Big Dummy and live with one car, two is stupid here in town.

Update: the mileage reading is 51,473 miles. I bought the car with 35,000 on it in February of 2005 and we put 4,000 the next month on a trip to the East Coast. So in three and a half years, I've put 12,000 miles on it.

Oh yeah, gotta have that second car...

Friday, June 20, 2008

Philadelphia's mayor speaks, you listen...

Philadelphia Mayor on planning a city:

For many, it was enough that Nutter unambiguously endorsed a major plan for the Delaware River waterfront and the creation of a Design Review Committee.

No doubt many in the audience pinched themselves when Nutter described Philadelphia as if it were a progressive West Coast city rather than a Rust Belt survivor:

"We are a walkable city, increasingly home to bicycles," Nutter declared. "We want to preserve our urban form. We do not want the automobile and its design requirements to dominate the landscape."

Platitudes, maybe. But what stirring ones.


Good for you, Philly.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

1.4x10^9

Wow

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Americans drove 1.4 billion fewer highway miles in April than they did in April 2007, the Department of Transportation said Wednesday.

That marks the sixth consecutive monthly drop and coincides with record gas prices and an increase in transit ridership, Transportation Secretary Mary Peters said.

April's drop is more than three times larger than the drop from March 2007 to March of this year, which was 400 million fewer highway miles.

Peters said vehicle miles traveled on all public roads for April fell 1.8 percent from April 2007.


That's like 18 trips from the Earth to the Sun and back.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Sing it: "I'm proud to be an American..."

McClatchy:
It was largely the work of five White House, Pentagon and Justice Department lawyers who, following the orders of President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney, reinterpreted or tossed out the U.S. and international laws that govern the treatment of prisoners in wartime, according to former U.S. defense and Bush administration officials. The Supreme Court now has struck down many of their legal interpretations.

The lawyers drafted legal opinions that circumvented the military's code of justice, the federal court system and America's international treaties in order to prevent anyone — from soldiers on the ground to the president — from being held accountable for activities that at other times have been considered war crimes.


I hope that Obama gets elected and then purges the bureaucracy of these un-American creeps, from the Secretaries to the unpaid minions because if he doesn't, these nasty little virii will pop up and pollute our nation's vital bodily fluids.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Heavy Weather

There are times when a tailwind isn't the blessing bikers think it is; a sultry day in July that causes you to bike in your own sweat or that frozen morning in January when the wind eats at the bit of neck that is between the jacket and the hat. I've now experience a third -- getting caught on the front edge of a thunderstorm.

I biked to Town Hall for Pint Club and on the way spoke with my mother. My brother was coming into town for Father's Day (his daughter lives here, he in New London) and that he was grilling. Since Me Darlin' Mrs. was working at the Cedar, I decided to bike to Golden Valley and join them. I fought a headwind as I rode straight west down 55, but it was such a beautiful day and the ride so lovely, I hardly noticed it. It must have been more substantial than I thought, as I realized that I had voracious appetite that not only made itself known to me, but my niece heard my stomach roaring. Two cheeseburgers, baked beans, salad and a couple of Mike's Hard Lemonades later, it seemed to have calmed down.

My other brother called during dinner and notified us that there was tornadic activity in New London -- this precipitated the Minnesota ritual of turning on the TV and watching the breathless coverage of the weather. I generally don't concern myself as this is mostly the local weather news staff working themselves into a fine lather and justifying their expensive toys. But when they said that the storm was moving at 55mph (!) and would be in Plymouth in fifteen minutes, I decided that I should get my sorry hinder home. Over the protestations of my family "You're not gonna ride in this?" "We'll give you a ride." "Are you nuts?" I got on my Bleriot and headed home. The air was absolutely still -- a bad sign.

I had just crossed 100 on Glenwood when the wind picked up again -- with me, luckily -- along with a light sprinkle. I actually appreciated the rain as I was getting hot with the pace I had set. By the time I reached Cedar Lake, the rain was beginning to come down in earnest and the wind had picked up some more. Down Dean Parkway and across Lake and now the wind had changed from blessing to curse. It was still out of the northwest, but should I deviate from the direction of the wind, my front wheel would act like a sail and between the wind and slick streets the riding got treacherous. I couldn't see through my rain-spattered glasses and the branches that had blown off onto the parkway would reach up and grab a toe through my sandals. The power was out around Calhoun and I have scratches up and down my shins from riding through the debris.

As quickly as it arrived, it departed and soon I was back in a slight drizzle and calm winds. Travelling the parkway by bicycle was the fastest way as there were some very large trees that had either lost a major branch or had blown over completely blocking the road. Cars needed to detour, but I just walked around it and continued.

It was a pretty violent storm, but at no time was I concerned or felt I needed to find shelter. I don't know if that is confidence or stupidity, but I was determined to get home. Soaked and panting, I managed to pull into the drive only to notice that my car's windows were down and the storms were open in the house. The critters were pretty terrified and when I walked in, I was immediately surrounded by cats and dog that needed a comforting scratch or tummy rub. I dried off and we all curled up on the bed and fell asleep in a big pile comforted by nearness of the others.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Stable changes

There are dealings afoot in the Yam garage. I am potentially losing two of the Specialized to some friends who are in the market for some bikes.

An aside: oddly, when people see you riding a lot, hear you talking about biking and see more than one bike a piece they tend to think that you know something about bikes and bicycling in general. I help when I can and I'm a vocal proponent of whatever I believe in and I'm sure me darlin' Mrs can back me on that. Actually, she'd call me a F*(%in' Know-it-all. But enough about me...


I've said to people that a good used bike is money better spent than buying some new cruddy piece of pig iron from MegaMaxiMart. They asked if I had any bikes I would sell. Since I try not to invest too much emotional capital into any one bike (unlike others, *cough* Pete *cough* Mark *cough* Ken *cough*), I would happily part with the Expedition Elite and the Sirrus. One for him and one for her -- $400 bucks for the pair, plus cheap tune-ups.

That makes room for bigger and better things: a brand spankin' new Surly Long Haul Trucker for the darlin' Mrs. A week and a half ago, we were talking about our summer vacation plans and the ride that we're planning would be really painful, slow and silent if she was going to ride distance on her Crossroads. As a commuting bike, it's marvelous, but the upright position and the aluminum frame would tire her out. I knew that she would be miserable, and she finally relented to my demands that we look at a better bike for long distance. So off to see that tasty piece of ass, Jim at HCHQ. Using all of his masculine charm (hell, even I felt a tingle), he convinced Mrs. Yam to test ride the LHT. When she returned, there was a smile on her face that said "This is the bike for me." The deal was consumated (ahem) and now she's got a good bike.

One thing the general populace doesn't realize is that there is a difference between bikes. The difference between a $200 bike and $500 bike is noticeable and the difference between a $500 bike and one that costs $1000 is even more substantial. I would like to think that in a future where gasoline costs more than $5/gal, people would take biking seriously and quality bikes are no longer thought of as weekend toys but as viable transportation options and are treated with the same care and reverence that we now treat our automobiles.

Of course monkeys could fly out of my ass and bring me beer too. Actually, this seems more likely. If folks would just realize that they don't ride their crappy bikes because they're crappy bikes and there is no joy pushing a crappy bike around and rode something that didn't suck, and rode something that we (the people of the biking community) take for granted, I imagine that there would be more riders. [If I had an editor, I would probably be caned for that last sentence]

Anyway, we're equipped now for our road trip, we just need to get some miles under our saddles in preparation for our journey. We're going to Grand Rapids, MN to a cabin on a lake for a couple of days in the beginning of July. Hopefully no more than two, as I'm not a waterskier, fisherperson and I don't really like Michelob Golden Draft Light and fried fish. We'll make our way east to Duluth and then south either by MN Hwy 23 or through Wisconsin. Don't know yet and we'll probably figure it out the day we start home.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

Monster Gramma (or, Holy Cow, Camels!)

This is a long post that has been rattling around my hard drive and Blogger since we returned Memorial day.

Me darlin' Mrs and I left for a long weekend of hiking and camping in 5 Southwestern Minnesota State Parks: Myre/Big Island, Lake Louise, Forrestville/Mystery Cave, Beaver Creek Valley and Great River Bluffs.

We both took a half day on Friday and after the customary panicked rush to find, pack, lose, forget, find, pack and forget the necessary gear, we managed to load most/all/too much stuff, the dog and ourselves into the car for the trip to Myre for the first night and our first six miles of the planned twenty miles of hiking. Gasoline has become something that we don't buy often, so we decided to see if we could stretch our mileage in the Forester by not pushing it -- we basically kept it to around 60 mph -- on the freeway. Once you get past the idea of getting passed, you can start to calm down even in traffic. We probably had our share of curses hurled our way, but we didn't care. Overall, we managed to add 2-3 mpg by not driving fast -- saving us about two gallons per tank.

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We arrived at the park and set up camp. We have done this enough that we can have a reasonable campsite up in about 30-45 minutes depending on the conditions. From there we had had a snack an decided to hit the trail -- a trail that is not that well marked, as we would regret later. We walked the island loop and admired the spring flowers; wood anemone, prairie phlox and the occasional strawberry. The trail then leads you on the road that connects the island to the rest of the park and we saw a rather large fish jump as we passed. Impressive. You then take a roundabout way to the Blazing Star State Trail. Had I the sense to listen to Mrs Yam, we would have been finished the walk in under four hours, but I didn't. I insisted that there is no connecting sign and that we should go back and walk through the campground. We did. Then we walked through the other campground, and then south to the lake, and after about a half hour, we finally found a Hiking Club sign, but we were going the opposite way. So, there isn't a right or wrong way to hike 'em, so we pushed on.

We walked through the hills and sloughs just east of I-35 and saw a whole pile of critters; turtles, a raccoon, herons, ducks and all manner of other birds. The air was filled with the songs of Wrens, Red-winged Blackbirds, Meadowlarks, Bluebirds, Orioles and Cardinals. It was gorgeous -- I'd never heard anything like that in my life. Go and experience it for yourself, it's really quite amazing. We finally reached the word sign and we found that we were closer to I-35 than we were to our camp. I was starting to bonk since in the panic of preparing to leave, we didn't eat lunch and our snack was long gone. But there was little we could do but soldier on and hike the two plus miles back to the tent as the sun was starting to fall behind the trees. A quick meal of shrimp and peppers and then bedtime.

We got up early Saturday morning and broke camp quickly since we wanted to get to Beaver Creek Valley as soon as possible in hopes that we may still get one of the non-reserved campsites. All of the state parks were full and so we hoped we could get one before the hordes from the Cities descended and took the remaining campsites. If we had any luck, we'd set up camp for the next two nights and go back and hike Lake Louise and Forestville in the afternoon. We set out on I-90 and headed east. We're really not Interstate people, I'm not in any hurry and I hate the rushing and the lack of scenery. With that in mind, I got us off as soon as it made sense and that was when we hit State Highway 16.

Highway 16 is also known as the Historic Bluff Country Scenic Byway. Neat farms greet you as you leave the freeway and also the first of many surprises on this road -- camels! What appeared to be young Bactrian camels were lounging in the meadow near a farmhouse. This was just outside of the town of Grand Meadow, MN, a little town that looks like most of the other towns in this area; Scandinavian-named stores and restaurants, houses with neat yards and the implement and Co-ops you'd expect for an agricultural area. But this one has a high school you really have to see to believe. Just past town was a field of power generating windmills. Camels, Dome schools, windmills -- this road has everything and we're only about ten miles in...

As we headed east, the terrain started to become more and more hilly. A bit of geography here; this is part of the "driftless area" of Minnesota. The glaciers that carved so much of our current geography never reached this far south. That is not to say that their presence wasn't felt -- quite the contrary -- this area is filled with valleys that were carved by the massive melt water runoff from the glaciers. You look south from I90 and you see a relatively flat plain with small, gently rolling hills. If you look carefully though, you'll see the tops of trees where bushes should be. The valleys are somewhere between 200-300 deep and you'll see maples and ash trees on the Mississippi side of the area where the great Eastern Hardwood forests end or oaks in the west where the prairie and oak savannas begin.

By the time that we picket up US52 just outside of Preston, the valleys were well defined and the views were truly magnificent. Tree-covered sides and a valley that are dotted with farms and horse and cattle ranges. We followed US52 south through Harmony and the heart of Minnesota Amish country. And yes, we did see famous horse-drawn buggies. You can tell the Amish farms from the surrounding "English" ones because the lack of powerlines, trucks, combines, etc. and the tell-tale red barns. You could also see the wear and tear on the shoulder of the roads. I wonder what it would be like to bike through this country. If the wind didn't get ya, the hills would, but the traffic would be accustomed to slow moving vehicles on the side of the road. Be careful of the horse exhaust and I guess it would be fun to try.

The views continued to be spectacular all the way to Caledonia where the Beaver Creek Valley park is. We pulled into the park and managed to get one of the three remaining sites. Whew, Mrs Yam is nobody's dummy. Good call, hon. As you can probably gather from the name, the park lies at the bottom of a valley and this makes for a unique park in that you don't have the typical loops with campsites, but the sites run along the valley along the road. This is nice in that you don't have a lot of neighbors and if you're lucky (and we were), you'll get a spot along the creek. We had the pleasure of our own babbling brook to sing us to sleep for the next couple of nights.

The car was emptied again and the tent went up. Mrs Yam inflated the mattress (a new and very welcom addition to the gear) and promptly decided to have a nap. I fire up the stove (another new addition) and cooked a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. Trouble is -- we had no coffee cups. After pouting a moment or two, I looked in the car and decided I could fashion a mug out of some of the pop cans that were in there. I used one to make the base and handle and I cut the top off of a second and rolled the top over so as not to rip my lips on the jagged edges. That worked pretty well and would be my mug for the weekend.

Me Mrs awoke, we ate and headed out back Lake Louise. We swung way south to avoid the way we came in and saw more farms, but there was less up and down and more simple rolling hills. We made it to Le Roy, Minnesota where Lake Louise State Park is, but it took us a while to find the entrance as my GPS didn't show it accurately (it is really a collections of areas along a creek that are barely connected and not the big area that is displayed on a GPS or Google maps. After finally finding the parking lot, we started out on the Hiking Club trail and we weren't a half mile in when Sheila decided she didn't like the smell of the flea/tick collar and rolled in a pile of fresh horse shit. Great, but this would portend our entire hike here, much to our dismay. It's a small park that has a lot horse trails (we'd already noted that) and there isn't much in the line of scenery: there's no hills, no prairie, just this area that looked like reclaimed farmland with some small stands of trees and none of the birds or wildlife of Myre-Big Island. In fact, this turned out to be a park similar to Split Rock Creek in Western Minnesota: a dammed up creek with a little lake with campgrounds around it. Bleah.

After getting closer and closer to the end of the hike without finding the word sign (the only redeeming thing I could imagine from this dumpy park), I started getting really crabby. Between the stinking dog, the dull walk and the fact that I was convinced that there was no word sign, I worked myself into quite a grump. We made it back to the car and I washed off the dog in the bathroom and decided to get us the hell out. I didn't want to have to come back to this place just for the freakin' word.

I think that I'm starting to take the Hiking Club a bit too seriously.

We made it to Forestville and I talked to the Ranger there and told him that there wasn't a sign at Lake Looser. He told me that it's still getting made and they'll have it installed in a week or two. I wasn't keen on returning and showed him the tracks from the GPS. He agreed that I did walk it and told me the word. Success! He then assured me that the word sign was indeed installed and we should have no trouble getting to it along the trail. I took a map and headed out. Oh goody, another horse camp. We were beginning to tire of walking in horse shit. Fer cryin' out loud, could you get hiking trails away from the horse trails? Is that too much to ask? At least we were back in the valleys and the scenery was back. Hilly, wooded terrain and a short walk restored our spirits and we got our word and headed back east to Caledonia.

We headed back the way that we came, but with the sun running down and the differing colors and shadows showed us a completely different drive that we had eight hours earlier. Lighting really is everything in landscapes, isn't it? We made it to Spring Grove and it was close to eight PM. We decided to stop and get some cold beer since we weren't sure when the liquor stores closed. Good thing we stopped -- it is eight. We walked into the bar/liquor store and I saw the nightmare of every beer geek six coolers and nothing that is worth it. Four coolers full of Bud/Bud Light in various containers, Miller Lite, a small collection other Miller products and that's about it. EEEK! I settled on a twelve of PBR (tolerable) and Mrs picked up a small bottle of vodka. This is where it gets interesting: Spring Grove makes their own soda. We saw that there was a six pack of Lemon Sour, but the lady at the counter told us that it's really only there for bar to use as a mixer and that we could get it for half of what they charged at the local convenience store. Thanks, lady.

We got a six of the lemon sour and headed to our campsite. Started a fire and made a simple dinner of sausages and bbq beans. That lemon sour and vodka was just what we needed to rinse the Lake Looser debacle from our minds and we went to bed exhausted and content.

Sunday found us with a burning desire to not drive anywhere. Beaver Creek Valley has a six mile hike and that was enough for the day. Lounging around the site, splashing in the creek and eating breakfast was what we really wanted to do. We had eggs and leftover beans and sausages for breakfast, served up with another utensil constructed from pop cans. I've gotta work on our camping gear collection. On a return trip from the bathroom, me Mrs. ran into some of the kids in the park running around. One of them looked up and yelled, "It's Monster Gramma and she's coming to get us!" My darling has a new nickname! Monster Gramma, I like that.

We walked the trail which basically runs the length of the park. On the southern end, you go up the hill and back down, walk along the park road to the north end and then up the valley wall from the Park office. This is one of the most beautiful walks we've done in any of the parks we've walked. The slope is a gentle uphill and as you climb, you can see wildflowers, butterflies and birds everywhere. The heady mix of warm sunshine, flowers and, well, life, was overwhelming. There are times I wish I could have seen Minnesota 200 years ago, to see the prairies before farms, the forests before the loggers and rivers and lakes before cabins and lake homes. To see such unspoiled vistas makes me sad. Sad that I didn't do this before now. Sad that less and less people go to parks. Sad that a generation of kids don't have someone nagging them to go outside and play. Mom's working and they're in the basement with their screen time and virtual friends. Sad that if someone manages to drag them to this, that they are unable to appreciate it. There is something to quiet, to nature, to peace that I fear that may be completely lost soon.

Where Lake Louise is a sad and dull park, Beaver Creek Valley is quite the opposite. The walk down from the side of the valley leads you along the creek with more birds and flowers. Sheila is an older dog (about 10 years) and she had been gamely walking along with us, but she's a lot slower than she once was. She still is determined to smell everything, but it was getting humid and hot and this stretch in the woods with the creek was just what she needed; the path was entwined by the creek with many crossings and each ford was met with enthusiastic splashing and several gulps of water.

The path then hit a meadow. This sun-drenched acre was buzzing with more of everything that we had seen. It went up to eleven. We stopped and just stared -- the hazy sunshine gave this field an aura, an otherworldly shimmer. I lack the ability to describe it. I'm sorry.

We followed the trail around the edge of the meadow and back to our campsite, making sure to stop and splash in the creek as demanded by the dog. When we returned camp side, we decided that the makeshift tools were just not cutting it, so a trip into town was in order. We found a store that carried what we needed and then drove around Caledonia. On the way back to the park, we could feel the humidity rising and see the clouds in the west and guessed that a storm was brewing. For our last evening's dinner, we started pot roast. As we were preparing dinner, the Park Ranger drove by letting us know that there was a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for the area. If we're camping, we're gonna get rained on, it happens every time so we don't make a big deal about it any more.

As we cooked, the cars leaving the park went from a trickle to an almost roaring torrent. Nobody seemed to break camp, they just got in their vehicles and left. Weird. First, we felt the drops then the thunder. No lighting, so no worries. The rain started coming down a little heavier and it shows who has the sense in the family when the dog gets up and goes into the tent while we continued to prepare dinner. We just put more pans over the grate to protect the fire. An occasional person would walk by and we'd exchange greetings and an snort of disgust at the cowards. It's just rain, right?

We weren't concerned because the sky never took on the color of a Severe Thunderstorm -- this was just plain ol' rain and I guessed that we'd have sun in less than an hour. We just got rained on, and after three days of hiking in the sun and no showers, frankly it felt really, really good. The fire kept going, so we did too. Ten minutes of heavy rain and the thunder and lightning died down and the rain soon followed. The sun then chased the clouds away and those folks that left were treated to a foggy return. One returning family rolled down the window claimed that we were "really hardcore." Yeah, perhaps we are. Or dumb. My bet is on dumb.

We ate and then drank beers and vodka sours around the fire and dried out. Reeking of smoke, we headed into bed and after wrestling the dog out of here spot, we finally went to sleep.

We broke camp Monday, packed up and headed up the road to Great River Bluffs State park for the last of the hikes, which was nice as we were getting tired and the look the dog gave us as we got out for the trail said pretty much everything we were already thinking. The day was sunny and hot and Sheila wasn't happy, but she went anyway with even slower gait than the day before. This is a pleasant enough hike and the hillside prairie is pretty neat and you stay up on the top of the bluff until you get to the end of the trail. There you get a marvelous view of the river valley. After finishing, we headed to Winona and then changed our plans. We decided to go up the Wisconsin side of the river instead of US61. This was a nice drive except for the freakin' Harleys. God, I hate those motorcycles and the assholes that ride them. Hours of listening to masses of asses and their fuckin' straight pipes. I would impale the lot of 'em on their mufflers if I could. Get a real bike, dummy.

We made it to Prescott and crossed the St. Croix and avoided the bridge out in Hastings. On our travels north, the clouds moved in and the temperature dropped by like 20 degrees, but that felt good. We shattered our good feelings by traveling on high speed roads, but it was good to get out of the car and take a shower. A Thai pizza at Galactic Pizza and then back home to bed. All in all, a marvelous weekend.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Book tag...

Okay, Scott tagged me to post whatever book is closest and copy sentences 6-8 on page 123. I'll play...

Well, hang on. The nearest book to me right now is Building Internet Firewalls and I don't think that is really worth boring y'all about it. So in the spirit of the rule (not the law), I'll grab what's on my bedstand at the moment: The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michal Pollan.

We think of grass as soft and hospitable stuff, but once it's been dried in the sun and shredded by machines -- once it's become hay - grass is sharp enough to draw blood and dusty enough to thicken lungs. I was covered in chaff, my forearms tattooed red with its pinpricks.
The others -- Joel Salatin, whose farm this was; his grown son, Daniel; and two helpers -- had gone off to the barn for something, leaving me with a welcome moment in the pasture to gather myself before we cranked up the baler again.


Certainly more interesting than:

A screening router is an appropriate firewall for a situation where:
- The network being protected already has a high level of host security.
- The number of protocols being used is limited, and the protocols themselves are straightforward.
- You require maximum performance and redundancy.


Tag time:
Rob
George
Ray
Jeanne
Jim

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Spring

If one were to visit Minneapolis right now, it could be understood why someone would want to live here. May is one of my favorite months to be a Minnesotan. The bugs haven't really arrived (save the Noseeums around the Lakes), the days are clear and warm, the nights are starlit and cool and the perfume of crabapple trees and flowers fill the air. This is a magical time to live here and even better to bike. The heady scent of plant sex fills my commute and my yard is redolent with the blossoms of plum and pear trees.

It is when this occurs, me lovely Mrs and I get the garden ready. A trip to the garden center, some quality time with a rented tiller (ask me about my arms and back some time) and the planting begins. We here at the Yam household enjoy cooking, and cooking with fresh herbs is the greatest treasure of all. I have a lovely herb garden that gets sun and heat, so all Summer long, we get the best of basil (Greek, Sweet and Holy), oregano, sage, thyme, marjoram, savory, rosemary and more lives happily under the kitchen window. What sweet toil it is to hoe this garden as the plants give up their scent as the tool nicks a leaf and to pick fresh herbs for dinners, lunches and, especially, weekend brunches.

Last year's refuse is turned into compost and makes this year's tomatoes and peppers. Heirloom tomatoes have turned into a passion for the Mrs and me and the nine types we've planted will be about the only joy I can summon during the miserable months of July and August. I'm glad they're good for something...

I've added a couple of new peppers to the mix this year; the Bhut Jolokia and it's equally devastating cousin, the Dorset Jolokia. Also, a Tobagan pepper called "7 pot" (due to it's ability to heat up 7 pots of stew) and some not so hots for everyday food -- Jalapeno, Serrano, some sweets for grilling and some for sauce. We also planted cucumbers (I love cucumbers) and zucchini (because a freshly picked handful tossed on the grill is a great treat).

It's a bunch of work, but I don't mind. I love the smell of fresh dirt and good compost, the act of wrestling a tiller down the block from the hardware store to the garden, the sweet agony of tilling ever more dirt -- our goal is rid ourselves of grass completely -- and satisfaction of looking at gardens with sweet black dirt and new life and the promise of fresh produce in the upcoming months.

Twenty years ago, if I knew this is how I'd be, the young me would laugh at the current me. But, I guess that's fair since the current me laughs at the old me. Delighting in flowers and hard-won produce is worth it. I just wish I could have talked me into doing this a lot earlier.

You know, I don't mind getting older...

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Bikin' to da Bar (Bike to work day radio mix)

Huh.

Oh, others were trying it? Good for them. We had two occasionals and a newbie. Newbie rode in on a LeMond Zurich he bought used. $800 -- yow. Where can I find a deal like that?

Biked to Town Hall after work in the most splendiferous of days we've had this year. Fought a headwind (surprise!) but I didn't mind. I felt strong and made most of the lights on the way up Park. The Greenway was SRO with every kind of bike you could imagine and a one you probably didn't. Some Dude was cruisin' east with a cruiser with apehangers and Maltese Cross rear view mirrors, multiple horns and bells and a trailer with his cat in it. Don't see that every day. Chatted with him and as I left was serenaded with a blast of horns and bells. A one-man-band-cycle...

Lots of bikes around Seven Corners tonight and everyone was in a good mood -- cars, buses, bikes, bladers, etc. Rode home in the gloaming back along the Greenway to Nicollet.

It's a good day to be in Minneapolis.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Your cultural notice of the week

Saturday night will bring the inspired lunacy and hilarious hijinks of the Asylum Street Spankers. Get your tickets at the Cedar Cultural Center. So, step out of your safe, focus-groupped cultural bubble and join me and mine at the Cedar on Saturday. Heck, if you find me, I may even buy ya a drink...



Saturday, May 10, 2008

Happy customer

I've been biking almost constantly and I have a Banjo Brothers messenger bag as my glove box, trunk, back seat and front floor. It's been a companion pretty much since I've bought it and when it broke, I was heartbroken. Contacting the Banjos service department consisted of getting one of the Brothers themselves. "Mail it to this address and we'll fix it for you" was the reply. Since "this address" was on my way to Town Hall, I attempted to drop it off last Wednesday, but I was there after 5 PM and everyone was gone. I then stopped by yesterday and the fine folks at their warehouse made sure that one of the Banjos got it.

This morning I received an email that said that they fixed the strap and that they added a feature -- a D-ring to ease loosening the main strap. Nice touch. He then asked where to mail it, but when he found out that we're damn near neighbors, he said he'd drop it off at my house. Now, that's service. When I got home from work, my beloved bag was there, right as rain and there was a prize inside! I'm now an owner of a brand new medium seat bag. Now me darlin' Mrs has two Market Panniers and I have convinced my coworker to purchase one also (heck, I'll probably get a pair), so I was already a Banjo Bros. fan, but now after the service I received I guess I'm a, uh, super fan. Cleverly designed, well-built and now with a service that can't be beat.

They don't have the have the name like Crumpler or Chrome, but they don't have the price either. Plus, the designs are well thought out and eminently practical. If you are considering a new bag, you could do worse than check out the Banjos.

Thanks Eric and Co. You guys rock.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Bikin' to da bar (beer induced bonk edition)

Yesterday was a near-perfect day for biking. Cool, clear skies, the scent of re-emerging life, cheerful people on the roads as if there were some cease-fire called between the cyclists and the cagers, a wonderful day. Except for the freakin' headwind. A spirit-grinding, consistent curse for those heading north -- like me, your humble narrator. I left work and headed into it with a coworker who also commutes by bike and neither of us were pleased.

But, so it goes.

I stopped at a warehouse to see if I could drop off my Banjo Brothers bag. I blew the strap anchor and emailed their warranty department which apparently consists of the owners themselves. I received an email back from Eric saying to mail it in and they'll take care of it but I noticed that the address is right off of the Greenway by Hiawatha. How convenient is that? Unfortunately, I was unable to get there in time and no one was there, so
I struggled my way to 7 corners and Town Hall and started my evening off with a pint of their new Maibock. Nice, malty brew with a hoppy snap on the finish.

I didn't eat much breakfast as I wasn't hungry and I didn't eat much lunch, so why should I eat dinner? Beer is as good as bread, innit? Well, the beer and the fatigue from pushing against the wind put the zap on me and I found myself too bonked to ride home. Beers+bonk is a bad combination, kids. So, with hung head I called for a ride. Mrs Yam, ever the patient and loving savior, swooped in and carried me and bike home where I ate a little and then crashed completely.

Monday, May 05, 2008

"Only poor people ride the bus..."

Huge increases in Metro Transit ridership for first quarter

More people rode Metro Transit buses and trains in the first quarter of 2008 than had in the same time frame over the last 20 years.

Some 19.2 million riders rode buses and trains the first three months of the year — up 1.3 million rides, and the most since 1984, according to a Metro Transit news release.

Metro Transit recorded ridership increases across all types of its service, paced by a 16.4 percent increase on the Hiawatha light-rail line. Three-month ridership was 2.1 million, the first time first-quarter ridership topped 2 million in the four-year history of light-rail service.

Locally, ridership was up 8.3 percent, and express bus ridership was up 4.3 percent.

Metro Transit officials said they are on track to meeting their goal of 78 million rides in 2008.

To make it easier to take the bus or train, Metro Transit implemented two new trip-planning features during the first quarter, enhancing online trip planners and adding maps.

Metro Transit, overseen by the Metropolitan Council, operates in metropolitan Minneapolis and St. Paul. For more information, go to www.metrotransit.org.


Is my neighborhood getting poorer? Considering the economic geniuses of the current administration, I suppose that could be so -- I'm not getting richer, that's for sure. Or could it be that people are sick of gas prices and getting around in other ways? A co-worker just traded in the Jeep for a new Ford Focus. He got tired of burning 4 gallons of gas a day to get to work.

Weekend off the bike

I don't what it is and it doesn't really matter, be it sinus infection, allergies or a cold, but I have been miserable lately. I'd write it off to allergies, but I have inflated sinuses and a pounding headache. But the itchy eyes tell me it isn't just a sinus thingy. And I'm sure the sore throat and cough are secondary ailments caused by whatever is bothering me.

Anyway, this toxic soup of misery has made any plans I have made worthless. Friday consisted of going home and sneezing and watching Rocky and Bullwinkle's Season 1 Disk 1 from Netflix. That lasted about an hour -- the jokes are really corny and the music and animation get on your nerves after a while. I'm going to cancel the rest of season 2 and the other disks that have been ordered.

Saturday started out nasty but turned into a nice enough day, but I just didn't have any steam for the HC ride. If you can't breathe, bicycling loses some of its charm. After the sun came out, we cleaned up the yard. Because, if you have allergies, molding leaves, decayed plant matter and dust are just what you need to set you right. Felt even crappier after that (but not as crappy as I thought I'd feel) and missed the blessing of the Maibock at Town Hall. Grilled a chicken instead and consoled myself with a pint or two out of a growler and went to bed early.

Sunday found me feeling better, so we went to hike and sightsee along the Minnesota River Valley. We took a nice drive to Fort Ridgely State Park and hiked there. Like the other parks along the river, this started out higher (it was a fort after all) and then took you down into the valley where a creek and the Minnesota River meet. A very nice 2.5 miler that was made even nicer by the gorgeous weather. We then followed the river back to the cities, stopping in St. Peter at the Co-op for lunch. We also got a stamp at Minnesota Valley where we hiked a year ago, but never found the mark for our "Passport."

Driving back up 169 was really unpleasant. After a day of country roads and no traffic, the speed, rudeness and general mayhem that is a freeway really jangles the nerves. I spent the day driving the speed limit, and in the Honda that means I get absolutely wonderful gas mileage. The 75 mph, bumper to bumper while completely surrounded by deepest, darkest suburbia's most repulsively titanic SUVs is not a good way to end a day. Well, I sorta can guess what the little furry mammal felt like, scurrying around the feet of the giant reptiles as the snow started to fall...

Thursday, May 01, 2008

KSTP - Busted!

Their fearmongering may backfire.

Assholes. Aren't there any immigrants or cripples you can go and pick on?