Arrrgh!

The Staff at my Dental Office Gather for the World!

On occasion, cycling to work is a lot like going to the dentist. Wait, today, I actually WENT to the dentist. I'll call the office "Dr S." One neat thing about the v3 commute is that things like going to the dentist on the way home are actually practical. Back in the v2 commute, it would have been nearly a 2 hour ride to get there. Now, it is under 30 minutes, and is only a couple of miles detour from a direct route home. KOWABUNGA! My first opportunity, back in February, was interrupted by an ice storm, but today was a little warmer. It was a pleasant 98F or thereabouts.Warm enough to not get chills. I brought along some extra stuff so I could be presentable. Namely a towel and my "Ski King" t shirt. I'll admit, it's tougher to clean up when going somewhere one doesn't go every day, especially on a summer afternoon. Still, either everything worked or the staff was admirably polite.

Regardless, my friendly neighborhood registered dental hygenist, anonymously identified as "N" in the center of the photo, was my main contact at the dental office. As usual, she was unflappable and truly wonderful, despite my questions about dental picks and drawing blood by accident from patients, not to mention my suggestion about dying the water in her fountain red. I hate to say it, but I was more of a PIA than usual. It is amazing all the things that occur to a patient sitting in a chair and imagining stuff while he thinks about what he might say in a blog post afterwards.

Before you knew it, I was on the road again and, conveniently enough, my local bike store beckoned on the trip home. I stopped in, mainly to see what was new in the world of cycling stuff one MUST spend money on. They had gobs of stuff, but nothing that really called out to me. I looked at saddles in particular, and my question to the sales guy resulted in a few warranty returns. Oops! Perhaps the recent spending spree on winter gear wore me out. Crimeny, I didn't even look at the price on the saddle. It was brown in any event. Can anyone imagine a brown saddle on the bike below? I certainly would consider it a bit tacky. White; definitely. Red; ditto. Black; maybe even a little TOO mainstream, but brown? Maybe Rantwick would applaud, but he liked that grey (sic in American but not in Canadian) water bottle on my red road bike.

Buddy, Waiting for my Return, in the Dental Waiting Room. You Can See the Flag at Right, Though It Probably isn't for Canada Day

Leaving, I saw people driving to their local bike store. It caused me to wonder about this driving to bike phenomenon. One day, I shall have to interview one of these species. I wonder how far they travel to visit the cycling store. I wonder why they don't simply ride somewhere directly from home. Are they cyclists or triathletes? Are their bikes broken and they don't have another to go get replacement parts? In most ways, it'd seem much simpler just to hop on the bike and ride. I guess I'm missing something.

Drive Your Bike to Your Bike Store?

The day ended well. I stopped for a little "almost home" refreshment of string cheese (lots of salt and electrolytes!) at an elementary school near home. Later, I went to my local library and, out of the blue, the librarian at the reference desk asked where I thought might be a good place to get a "vintage" bike fixed. I suggested Trinity, mostly because I think they'd treat her well. Perhaps I erred, but I'm willing to bet they know how to fix up an old three speed. I can't imagine why she'd think I know anything about bikes, though she might have been tipped off by my interlibrary loan request: Bruce Epperson's "Peddling Bicycles to America." Ya think?

Last Stop Before Home. In a "Drug Free, Gun Free, Anything Else Free" Summer Vacation Shade Zone