Still crabby after all these months
I haven’t forgotten that I’m going to tell you all about what I wear on my head. Today, though, I was too busy with what’s inside my head – which I’m not going to tell you about right now – or in fact, ever. This isn’t the kind of blog in which me, me, me tells all, all, all to you, you, you.(Aren't you glad? Would you not start snoring immediately?)
Today, in addition to riding the usual five miles to my secret hideout, which is in northwest Portland, I also rode another five miles to an appointment I had in southwest Portland, and then another five miles back home. Plus it was freezing the whole day, and rainy. What do I want, a medal? Yes. And not just A medal – I want a daily medal. At least till summer comes, which as we all know doesn’t happen here till the end of June.
These are THE worst days for riding. The. And if you’re out there riding too, we should all get some kind of award. Preferably money – forget the medal idea. We should be getting paid for this. How about every person in a car has to pay a per-trip tariff to someone on a bike? I could live with that. Even with all this rain gear it’s miserable. I recently spent a couple of hours strolling through the Portland Memorial Mausoleum. Eight miles of tomb-lined labyrinthine corridors on six or seven floors. You want cold, go there. But it’s like Hawaii in there compared to what it feels like outside today.
The only way to survive Oregon winters in even a reasonably good mood is to take the middle out of them, i.e., go to a tropical country for a couple of months between November and March. I did that one year, and when I got back the rest of the winter lasted about ten minutes. I’m planning that in for the creaky future that probably awaits me. And I'm taking my bike with me.