Oh, the irony

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Cycling keeps you healthy?  Not if you have to spend a lot of time behind this bus.  This is it accelerating after slowing down for the light.  The day before, I’d had the privilege of waiting behind it as it pulled away from a stop, when it emitted even more spectacular cyclist-choking plumes of smoke, before, to my relief, our paths diverged.  Unfortunately our paths rejoined a little later in the ride and it stopped in front of me again.

I made sure to have my camera in my pocket the next day, but the bus didn’t seem to have to stop anywhere, so I had to settle for this shot.  I sent the picture to the operator; they haven’t acknowledged it yet, but it’s only been one business day.

Chain lube from the sky

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Chainring

One of the best faces of this town comes out at night, when it’s raining.  The old colleges, manicured common spaces, and churches are gorgeous in the sun, but the place definitely never looks shinier than when it’s all wet and the lights are on.  In fact, once the puddles are well-established, the side of the road positively scintillates with droplets plinking into them.  Throw in a really hard downpour and oncoming headlights and the whole road sparkles.  Just have to watch out when you’re avoiding the puddles not to get in the way of the headlights.

If only I’d had my camera with me the other night, I’d have loved to take some pictures.

Even leaving the city centre, it was a pleasant ride.  Once you’re wet, you’re wet, and as long as you’re properly attired and generating enough heat, it’s not necessarily unpleasant to be wet when you’re on a bike.

Jeans do not count as proper attire for biking in heavy rain.  Oh, do they ever not count.  Once enough water has rolled off your jacket onto your thighs, jeans begin to bind, eventually becoming a sort of clammy denim straitjacket for the legs. And I know from experience that a dressy woollen pantsuit is much, much worse, especially if you are on your way to the occasion and not on the way home.  Have you ever smelled a really wet wool suit?  I have.  In fact, I have smelled two of them simultaneously, and so have another couple of dozen people we mostly didn’t know at a certain formal dinner.

Where was I?

Ah, yes.  If you’re dressed comfortably, being wet doesn’t have to ruin a ride.  That night, I was appropriately attired, the smell of the rain was springlike, and the temperature was mild.  The trip home felt invigorating and wholesome.

I think my chain may have had a hangover the next morning though.

Long day. And then frogs.

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Lonnnnnnggggg.  To which day am I referring?  I don’t even remember anymore. It’s matured into a short week of long days since I started writing this post. I’m so tired I’m a zombie.

Actually no.  Bleh.  You couldn’t get me to eat cerveau if it were prepared by the finest chef in all of France.

Let’s just say I’m tiiierd.  Luckily it’s now Friday and we can pause to take a breath.  Then wonder where the weekend went and go back to work.

I missed some good photo opportunities this week, through leaving my camera in random inaccessible places.  One such opportunity was the phenomenon of the frogs on the trail.  Every year around this time the bike path and road near work are inundated with small frogs in the evenings: tiny ones, little ones, and, um, pairs of tiny and little.  They look kind of like dried-up leaves from a few metres away, and their random distribution over the road makes them difficult to avoid with a bike or a car, so we tend to see a lot of squished ones too.  The next morning the road and the path are clean and tidy, so there must be birds or scavenging animals benefiting from this arrangement.

Continue reading “Long day. And then frogs.”