Our genteel wheels

September 2, 2011

Well, as you all are undoubtedly aware, the Vuelta a Espana is around Day 13. And that means that Penelope Cruz is obviously cycling around and beautifully spectating at the melee (con accento y exclamacion de marco, mi amiga, muy accento).

I understand this is anyone's race at this point. I also was even able to watch a bit of the event, since it is available to even those of us who are too thrifty for any type of cable or satellite television connection (thanks Universal Sports!). While looking for a photo of Penelope on a bicycle, I happened across this article that informed me that in the UK, rich people are more likely to bicycle than us plebeians (plebes for short). According to the article, it appears that the poor buggers over in that dank, rioting, old sot of a nation don't want to be seen as so poor that they need to roll around on a humble cycle. Well, guess what, go ahead and roll, keep your nose up and maybe you'll be mistaken for an entitled member of the upper crust of the queen's bundt cake. Although I am not a subject of the queen and not familiar with the social structure on any islands, I personally enjoy the feeling of entitlement I can't help getting as I roll loftily about, hither and yon, snippily chiding presumptuous motorists while sportily ringing my bell just before overtaking pedestrians on my dear multi-use trails. It is somewhat like the feeling I presume my neighbor gets when he puts on his long argyle stockings, tweed, capris-length pants and sporty cap before venturing off for an early, back nine, foursomely escapade.

Why just the other day, as I regally transported myself amongst the motoring masses, I arrived at the used CD store. Although I am fortunate enough to already own all six of Badly Drawn Boy's masterly recordings, I figured I'd stop in and see what other musical offerings might be available. I headed to my tree/bike-stand and seized an opportunity to hop (and I use the word "hop" loosely, since I really pop my front tire up and then pull me and the Old Heavy Bastard's arses up behind me) the curb. At least I thought I was seizing the opportunity, however, what was really seized was my front tire in a gaping depression that prohibited forward progress and caused OHB's backside to come perilously close to lodging on my head.

Fortunately, gravity pulled OHB's arse back down before I was "thwacked" for my impudence. A curious motorist asked if I was okay. "Yeah." I replied, slightly surprised at the truthfulness of my statement. It was at that moment that I was grateful for OHB's lack of springiness and secure stateliness. Much like the Cadillac in Johnny Cash's "One Piece at a Time," OHB is one smooth sailin' vessel!

Recently I have witnessed some extraordinary vehicles while going quietly about my business. I saw this vehicle with a skin-colored dome twice - going in opposite directions at the same intersection.

It reminded me of a chuckle-eliciting motorbike I used to own with a flesh-colored gas tank (prior to the tri-toned flames that were later applied, Grrraaaar!).  Nothing like a burst of flames on a flesh-colored protuberence to change laughter to raised rock-n-roll fists and righteous sneers.

Here's a Husker party bus that tried to pick me up and take me to some kind of pre-game party for a northern North American futbol match.

Go Huskers!

Here is a fun activity that I'm sure you will enjoy - it's the Apple Grass Festival!  It takes somewhere in Iowa, but fairly near the Omaha area.  Bluegrass and apples go together like Penelope Cruz and a bicycle, so get out there and feel the twang!  Happy Labor Day Weekend, you poor plebes!