…You sit back (take a picture) and admire what is probably the cleanest, nicest innertube patch job you’ve ever done (and trust me I’ve done scores and scores over the years): Backstory: Just before setting out on Tuesday’s river ride, I noticed the business end of a goathead thorn buried into my fully inflated front …
The saga began more than two years ago when Ranger, while barking at a worker outside lunged toward the guy from behind the closed window in the study and cracked a lower pane. For what was supposed to be a very short-term solution, I plugged up the hole with a piece of cardboard, and just …
No, not really Ride No. 247 down the East Bank, but it’s certainly become a go-to for me of late. Guess I’m catching up for not discovering it earlier in my biking life. Anyway, this past Tuesday morning for the latest in my increasing string of East Bank/river bed rides I was joined by a …
Read more “Timelapse: Los Angeles River East Bank/Bed Ride, No. 247”
The first time was in 2006 in Spokane, Washington. The second time was a few days later in Troy, Montana. The third time was this morning while biking the East Bank of the Los Angeles River. I managed to point-and-shoot my point-and-shoot at it as it headed upstream (click it for a not very much …
In the bookcase that constitutes the majority of my analog library resides a trade-paperback-sized volume. To describe it as dog-earred would be a lie. It’s spine is in tatters, its back cover is long gone. To describe it as cherished would also be a lie. Over the years I’ve shed hundreds of pounds of books …
Read more “Between The Pit Of Mans Fears, And The Summit Of His Knowledge”
On July 14, in response to a post on BikinginLA to contact the Auto Club about its opposition to Senate Bill 910, (which would make it law for motorists to allow at least three feet when passing bicyclists), I wrote to the heads of the Northern and Southern California chapters, the letters of which you …
(click it for the bigger picture) Susan joined me yesterday for her first bike trip down the east bank of the Los Angeles River, and so was on hand upon dry land to nicely document me and my reflection’s inability to abstain from rolling around in the wet stuff downstream from where the concrete riding …