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Raise your hand if you remember Sasquatch, from the early days of this site? I rode with him today for the inaugural Brunch Fandango, a genteel affair involving no dropping, no single track, and no displays of competitive spirit. It was to be a truly regal promenade above the banks of el Lago de Lafayette.

We lost each other immediately upon crossing the first major road, no more than 3 minutes from my house, our point of departure. The fault lies with me, as I proceeded directly to the trail which I had made an effort to communicate as our intended destination. Sasquatch, observing the rules of the Indianhead Acres Gentlemans’s Club, bypassed the trail due to it’s singular nature and he rolled to the bottom of the hill on the pavement, or as he calls it, the bigger single track. Away he went from there, fuming that I should disrespect the Fandango with my show of aggression! Meanwhile, patiently did I wait at the end of the trail- the same trail I had identified as our intended destination. Wait I did, like a dog left behind at the rest stop. He never came back for me.

Now set your watches for one hour and you will experience the amount of time it took for us to re-connect.

There. It was quite a long time was it not, to be wandering and waiting with no hope of locating your fellow caballero, no? Si, de acuredo, hace much tiempo sin duda. We did persist and reconvene for a tour of the Lafayette Heritage nature trail, where at least one senorita informed Mr. S’quatch that I was “beating him” as we climbed to the peak of the grand colina. Foolish girl, the Indianhead Acres Gentlemans’s Club does no beating, the rider in front is simply scouting, for the convenience of his fellow gentlemen.

Juancho

My neighborhood is filled with smoke this morning. Is it so hot that trees are spontaneously combusting? I saw a cat stuck to the road, his little paws sunk into the melted asphalt, that’s how hot it is. He was walking like he had gum on the bottom of his little cat shoes.

I had the tiniest quiver of excitement at the thought that my house would burn up and I would collect the insurance and once again travel free across the surface of the planet. In truth I know I would just rent an apartment on the other side of town and do what I always do these days. Freedom, it is a hell of a concept, but it sure is exhausting when you actually have it in your hands.

I made a salad last night of quinoa, brown rice, baby collards, walnuts, olives, cukes, and whatnot, tossed in a lemony garlic dressing. That is the caloric equivalent of loading a fresh belt in the 50 caliber, so smoke or not I must ride. I could save it for the weekend, but I don’t know if it works that way?

Good grief, this has become such a blog I need to set it on fire.

Juancho

The ride rolled away from us while we were unloading our bikes from the van and that didn’t sit well with none of us. That meant working our way through the pack starting with the slowest and greenest, then working our way past the nature enthusiasts, closing in on the daily drinkers, the muffin-toppers, the slow B groupers, and hopefully finding the wheel of some quick B+’ers if not an A rider worn out from the weekend. I felt pity for none of them. I have been eaten alive, regurgitated, and re-animated on the trails of Tallahassee. Been there and did all that. It was treacherous. We passed on the left, we passed on the right, we passed through the bushes and around the trees. Sometime around the old trailhead we broke free from the pack and had clear open trail ahead except for one flash of jersey off in the distance, which we felt compelled to run down. Some chickens are stronger than others and this pullet was trucking. I turned myself inside out to reach him on the final climb back to the bench and I had him too. I thrust forward my talons and prepared to scoop him up and then, WHAM! I hooked a vine that yanked me straight into a tree in slow-motion cartoon fashion. Dashed!

Back at the bench, the gentleman we were chasing remarked on how startled he was to hear me crashing behind him as he was unaware anyone was back there.

You don’t hear no chicken hawks until it’s too late.

Juancho

Greetings from New Haven, Missouri!

We are enjoying the 13 year Cicada bloom, a rare honor I am encouraged to appreciate by our hosts. The humming rises and falls all day long and into the night. When the cicadas come out to mate they are not bashful about it. I viewed them as a nuisance until I learned that this is a bona fide episodic event in nature. Like Haley’s Comet or a 100 year flood, you can’t just go find a swarm of cicadas any time you wish. These events give us meaning and a way to mark the passage of time. (We met three years before the Cicada bloom of 92 and so forth.)

What other natural events meet this criteria and how are they interpreted now and how were they viewed in the past?

Please tell us.

Juancho

Today is a good day to be a sucker, because so far they are all out riding the trails unchallenged by me. I woke up at 6:00 A:M, with the little voice that keeps me out of trouble saying,The Dogboy is out there. I am not afraid of him, but I dragged my sleeping bag under the bed and went back to sleep for another hour just in case he showed up all Thor at the door as the kids used to say. I remained uneasy and gave up on sleep. I needed a justification and I wasn’t feeling picky so I put on some shoes and launched a surge attack on the damn weeds that keep growing in my damn bushes. That’s what I get for trying to play house, plants that nobody else is responsible for tending. My shackles weigh heavy on my soul.

Now, it is 117 degrees and the trails are for certain sucker fee so there is no point in dropping some bait if the bite ain’t on.

Juancho