Gotta Ride

I don't know,  man...

What Might Have Been

As a Blogular Genius and Instrument Of Bicycle Wordism I ain't doing so hot. I have prepared two or three posts in the last few days that got put onto the back burner. Then I turned the back burner on High and torched what may have been really great Words of Wisdom but now We Will Never Know.

If It Was Fun They Wouldn't Call It Work

Here's why: As you are all aware, I Earn My Keep by fixing up old trailers in the Second Crappiest Trailer Park in Old Hawks Park. Turnover is high (as are most of the tenants) and lately I have been really swamped with Fix-It Work. I don't mean to complain, but this kind of work can be, on good days, disheartening. On Bad Days, Self-Immolation seems like a viable alternative. But Fear Not, Dear Followers, I Am Still Here, be it somewhat downtrodden and trailer sodden.

What Once Was But Now Ain't

Cycling? Who knows? I vaguely remember something about bicycles...Two Wheels, isn't it? The Work stand in the Living Room sits empty, a forlorn reminder of Days Past, when I was the Great Trailer Park Fix-it. Neighborhood Children would gather at my feet to hear tales of my Cycling Exploits and watch as I deftly adjusted saddle heights and squirted my secret Trailer Park Cyclist Chain Lube onto their, uh, well, chains. (that came out a little weird but I'm too tired and down-trodden to fix-it)  But anyway,  where was I?  Oh Yeah:   Gone, Gone are those Old Days of Glory!

Tales of Brave Ulysses

Miss Daisy the Yellow Dog nearly bit my ankle today when I dashed into the trailer for a Cold Hot Dog on a Stale Bun. Nothing is going right and there are still Stinky Old Trailers to tear apart and put back together. How Long, O Lord?

Well, As Long As It Takes, apparently. But the cool thing about being a Trailer Park Dude is that Disappointment and Heartache being your Only Friends means that sooner or later, things will have to get better. And all this whining is just the noise I make on weeks that have less than a hundred miles of riding in them.

It's true: I am an Addict. Without Road Miles, I begin to snivel and itch and shake and whine.

The Voice ain't been around for days now and as big a Pain as he can be, I miss him.

What to do?

Ride.

Voice? Is that you?

Just go for a long ride tomorrow morning. These stupid trailers aren't going anywhere and you seem to be losing it pretty bad.

Well, I'll be danged. Good Ol' Voice! I'm getting Up Before Breakfast Tomorrow and doing You Know What!

Whispering Pines Trailer Park and Asylum for the Going Insane

#24