Council B-ware!

July 6, 2013

As I may have half-heartedly/assedly tried to explain, I am no longer bicycle commuting in Omaha.  I am hardly even bicycle commuting at all.  That's right.  The name of this blog should be "Snot," but I'm  too apathetic/pathetic to actually do anything about that.  Whether or not you care, here is an explanation for my change in activities:   I am busy being self-appointed bike czar at UNL, taking History of Rock ‘n Roll-related classes, and spending thyme with Baby Snot.  That doesn’t mean I don’t often have a hankerin’ for some 2-wheelin’ hijinks, though!  Why just yesterday I met up with my old man for a tour of Council Bluffs streets and bicycle trails.  It was a good time.  There was one very steep hill, 

and a few other moderately steep ones.  We rode past Big Lake, 

which was next to the big house.  

We rode on some scenic roads.  

We saw a bicycle-based art piece (sorry, I apparently didn't get a photo, but it was awesome!).  We rode past the casinos and ate at the golf course club house next to Harrah’s.  

I think it's called the Dodge Park Club and they've got a great spinach artichoke dip.  We also saw a replica of Lewis and Clark’s boat, the Voyager, at that museum of western trails, or some such.  

It was fantastic (not the replica, really, just the whole expedition in general)! 

Now that it is awl over, I am back home and working on mending my brand new Jansport backpack 

which was sent to me after I trashed my other one over a 17-year period.  The Velcro seems to have been either weak or defective.  I suppose I could send it back for repairs, but I would feel kind of weird sending back a free replacement pack.  Yeah, I know you wouldn’t!  You’re probably a lousy tipper, too!  Aren’t you!?  I’m actually not too bad with a needle and a haystack/thread, so I figger it’s easier to mend it, dear Willie, you silly, mend it, than it would be to pack it all up and send it back.  Cheaper too. 

Whaat else is hanyakering?  Well upon our multi-generational meanderings, we stopped by the Wabash Trace trailhead where I noticed a local manifestation of the fairly recently-blossomed potentially unhealthy pastime of bicycle racing on gravel roads.  

I have ridden my bike on a few gravel roads, and my main concern has generally been – when do I get off this damn gravel!?  The best part of riding on gravel is finding a part of the road that is less gravelly!  But if this is your cup of whisky on the rocks, then please let me know how it goes.  At least it'll be dark, so you won't see the looming ridiculousness of it all before you biff it into a muddy ditch.  I’ll be at home, crying and whimpering in fear just thinking about it!  Gong appetit avec accentes bitches.