On Fri, 06 Mar 2020 23:08:07 -0500, Joy Beeson
wrote:

Map snippet in my pocket, notebook cleared, jersey patched, tea on the
stove. I'm going to let it steep next to the humidifier pot all
night. Double tea leaves. Drink it at noon and I don't crash until
an hour after I get home.

And then I perk up at bed time.

I've got fifteen minutes before time to hit the hay.

I learned another reason to keep your water bottles topped off on this
ride.

I did go north on 350 W, and decided not to go three miles out of my
way to avoid the gravel stretch on 300 N between Fox Farm and 150 W.

Three miles on pavement would have been *much* less tiring. Once I
got past the top of the first climb, there was less loose gravel --
and more washboard.

Once across 150 W, it was a thrilling downhill on new pavement with no
traffic --it being Saturday, school was closed-- until I got to Tippy
Downs. I usually turn here to avoid climbing up and coming down
again, but I wanted to see the new roundabout, so I dismounted in the
turn lane and began walking on the apartment complex's lawn, between
the newly planted windbreak and the road. (They really should have
planted twice as many trees, but when it's time to cut down every
other tree, the people who planted them are no longer around, so this
was the better choice.)

And now I have five minutes to brush my teeth and get into bed.
Man~ana.


Sunday, 8 March 2020

As I neared the top, I began to doubt that this lawn was continuous
with the lawn west of Sheldon Drive, where new stores will be built. I
forgot to check this detail when I got to the top. Google Maps
Satellite View shows that it would be quite easy to walk from one to
the other, but it also shows a place where someone might have decided
to build a fence during the carefully-concealed number of years that
have passed since the picture was taken. (A 2020 date on a picture
clearly taken before the roundabout was built in 2019? Not to mention
that I saw a whole row of completed and occupied apartments on the
other side of that newly-planted row of trees -- which were years too
old to transplant.)

So when a gap in the mounds of dirt appeared, I crossed into the muddy
strip where an absurdly-wide sidewalk will be built when it's
construction season again. The walking wasn't too bad because a thin
layer of straw had been laid on the subsoil when they downed tools
last fall.

The roundabout itself is complete and operating, apparently quite
well. It does have pedestrian islands so that one can cross one lane
at a time, in case a pedestrian comes along sometime. I did see one
in this area several years ago; she was taking a walk while waiting
her turn at a medical office.

There is no provision at all for blind pedestrians, of course.

The walkway and crosswalks were complete and operational around the
roundabout and possibly east to SR 15. I should take a typewriter
along and write notes on the spot so I'll notice what I've failed to
notice. And I should have measured the width of the sidewalk. But
I'd have had to use my pocket tape at least twice, and I didn't have
any sidewalk chalk on me. But with no worry about having to get off
suddenly, as when I measure bike lanes, I could have used bits of
debris to mark the ends of the measurements.

I didn't care to stand in the street while mounting up, particularly
actually in an intersection, and felt tempted to mount up and coast
down to the spot where a driveway will be built when the lot is sold.
Then I noticed some bike riders coming up the hill, and started to
walk, so as not to set a bad example.

I didn't need to worry about my example; it was two greybeard Amish
couples on tandems, one with a trailer. They went through the
roundabout with accuracy and aplomb. I've seen only one other tandem
around here, and Amish aren't all that common. Or maybe they were
Mennonites; I can't tell the difference.

Resumed walking; even though I'm out of the mud, the bike feels
draggy. Looked at brakes: I've got sticky clay, well bound with
straw, under my fenders.

I walked to where I could lay the bike on grass, found a twig, and got
most of it out. But there were smears of clay on my braking surfaces,
particularly in back.

One bottle of water sufficed to get my back wheel mostly clean, but
the other bottle was empty.

The drivers of two cars stopped and offered help while I was doing all
this.

In seventy-eight years, I've had only one guy yell "Get off the
****ing road!" (which left me wondering why, if roads can do that, we
need to build streets, lanes, and alleys). I wonder where you guys
find all those yahoos.

So I rode to Walmart, cabled to a sign, and took my bottles inside.
The water in the hand-washing sink ran so slow that I might as well
have refilled from the water fountain. Then the faucet -- and all the
other faucets -- refused to run for the other bottle at all. So I
finished washing with one bottle of warm water and one bottle of
chilled water.

I didn't realize until I read my notes that cleaning my wheels took an
hour and a half.

Which may be why I was startled to notice, after I'd packed up my
purchases and was about to bite into a (sob!) toasted bacon & chicken
ranch six-inch sub on nine-grain bread, that it was six o'clock.

I gobbled the sandwich, hopped on the bike, and made it home a few
seconds before the end of civil twilight even though I was too tired
to sprint on Sunset Drive as vigorously as I've been aiming for of
late.

That was less than an hour, and I'm pretty sure it's more than five
miles. Too late at night to Google-map it now.

But now we have Malt-O-Meal. I wonder why that cereal is so hard to
find?

--
Joy Beeson
joy beeson at comcast dot net
http://wlweather.net/PAGEJOY/