uh.... do we need more bike racks?

In case you've been super busy lately with all-consuming tasks like emptying a storage unit or something, and haven't noticed what is happening in Portland these days, here's an example. See? The city is so bursting with cyclists that we have to resort to extreme measures. The bike parking availability isn't keeping up with the demand. Even so, for most purposes biking is still way more convenient than driving. When you're driving and you can't find a parking spot, you can't do this with your car. How did they do this, anyway? See detail below. I hope they're a single party of three. And if not, I hope party #3 comes out before party #1 or 2. Otherwise numbers 1 and 2 are not going to be in a party mood.

portland cat population increases by one

OK, I know this is a new LOW, but I'm resorting to cute kitty pictures to keep my ratings up till I have time to blog again -- which will be soon. Meanwhile this explains my trip to Eastern Oregon -- I went to babysit this cat in the car on the way back for Eileen, pictured here holding said animal. Not that you have to travel a million miles to find a cat, but this was an arranged adoption. As you can see, this ain't no ordinary cat. Note the opposable thumbs.

the Greenjackets are back! And just in time!

Did I say the Uniformed Ones were a disappearing breed? I take it back. Here's a story I wrote a couple of weeks ago but haven't posted yet. Pretend it's Friday, June 4th.

The Guinness World Record for foul language and lurid content was broken today right here on the MAX train between Gresham and Portland Oregon.

Six loudmouth girls in their twenties sat in front of me tonight on the way home. OK, now I ain't no church-lady, but I never in my life heard that much filth in such a short expanse of time. No two words came out in a row without the insertion of fuck, bitch, or the like. But that's not so unusual, and nothing to write home about. The sewage carried by the language beat the nastiness of the vocabulary all to hell. The rest of the passengers were bludgeoned with extremely loud and unbelievably crass descriptions of their sexual acts with various men -- each of whom they had apparently shared. I found myself actually wincing. When I got home I felt I needed to take a bath, and pull out my brain and run it through the washing machine.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewww!!

And no, it didn't even occur to me to move. Why should I move? I was settled in with my stuff in a seat where I could watch my bike, and the train was full. If anyone should move, it should be them.

That was the suggestion of the chartruse jacketed transit security guy who walked up from the other end of the train and told them to stop it. He held his ground in the face of buckets full of sass hurled back in his face.
"We can cuss if we want! We grown!" and other gems.

He told them they could cuss all they want, but not on the public transportation where other people who found it offensive had to listen to it.

More loud sass back at him.

"I'm not going to argue about it with you," he said calmly. "But if you continue, you're going to have to get off at the next stop." His face was reddening but he held his composure.

They toned it down somewhat, but got off at the next stop on their own. Maybe they felt it was too much work to maintain that level of civility.

Never mind. My one and only slide show EVER.

Ok, I’ll spare you my first ever attempted blog slide show and cut right to the action. The Blessing of the Bikes was going to be next but I’m being begged for the previously promised “Bordello Personnel observed riding the MAX Train.” Maybe I’d better get that one out of the way and then clean up with the holier topic.

Lemme sleep on it. It’s late now.

Voyage to the East

The town of Brothers, Oregon. Population... six or seven? not sure. I only met two, and they were sisters -- the owners of this place. Don't miss their pie at on your way through. Nothing like it.Here's the old one (below), across the street. Only room for one business in this town.

No pie in there...... I checked.

From A to B and back again

Ever notice how the more interesting life gets, the harder it is to find time to write it down? It's not for want of EVENTS that blogging has been sparse. Handlebars or not, the underlying theme remains: transporting ourselves, our loved ones, our animules, and our it-ems from A to B.

Upcoming stories:

• Trip to eastern Oregon results in increase in Portland’s cat population.
• Possible car death imminent, really this time.
• Research and shopping for foldable bike drawing to a close.
• Transit security censors bordello personnel riding on train.