The Blue Ridge

Good morning. It is nice to be back.

It was a long week full of bratwurst, tornadoes, mountain streams and fried chicken. Aside from the occasional white power racist the folks in north Georgia are real nice. A quick four days to put the big top in order and Mystery the Untameable Stallion and I are out of here for the Blue Ridge again. I can’t wait to get back up there. It is that time of year when the nights are cool, the days are warm, and the dappled sunlight on the creeks and rivers hypnotizes.

This place is a mess from all the neglect. Let me shovel out the elephant stalls and get back to you. How is everybody? What’s going on out there in Minnesota, San Diego, Detroit, Kuala Lampur, that mucky place in England, Lake Weir, Portland, and the Florida State University Campus?

I’ve got some stories, and they involve Karaoke. I just need some time to re-acclimate.

has a bike, rides it.

9 Responses to The Blue Ridge

  1. So, I was talking tandem biking tonight with the Squawtch and the kids, trying to create a little magic and set the tone for summer and family biking adventures. They were dismissive and paranoid, especially when they learned the front rider is called the “captain” and the rear the “stoker.” They weren’t having it, calling the safety card before I even had a leg over the long bike.

    When I really cranked it up and read a mysterious quote about the three tandem riders, “the captain, the stoker, and the spirit,” Squawtch asks (in front of the kids, no less), “What are you reading from, I don’t know why I even try.

  2. Sascha, now you know how I feel about the final installment in your surgery adventure. That was great autobiographical journalism, and unless I missed it you just let Part 2 shrivel on the vine!