Perhaps I’m wrong, but I would assume most bikes being ridden regularly have a freewheel which means that when you stop pedaling the bike keeps moving. Or you can think of it as the pedals propel the bike by spinning the wheels, but the wheels are able to turn without the pedals having to.
On a fixed gear that is not the case. The gear, or the sprocket, the toothy ring thing on the back wheel, is affixed so that the wheel and pedals are unable to move independently of each other. Or you can think of it as the wheels turning force the pedals to turn.
So you may look at the title and, knowing the likelihood that I’m talking about bikes, think I’ve committed an oxymoron. Or you can think of jumbo shrimp and government intelligence. Yeah, those are funny.
I recently had to change out a tube on my fixed gear. My two road bike both feature Presta valves which are slightly different than the more commonly (again I may be wrong) used Schrader type. I won’t go into the differences here, so you can think whatever you want. My own point, and my problem, is that I’m not nearly as good as I’d like to be at attaching the pump to the Presta valves. I always seem to get it almost on, or I manage to get it on but at an angle.
I did exactly this recently on my fixed gear and bent the little wire part of the Presta valve. I was putting air in the tires with no intention, at the time, to ride it. I didn’t want it sitting around on flat tires which would then slowly implode from being flattened under the wheel. I was in the middle of random cleaning and actually had moved all the bikes around the tiny apartment in order to clean where they usually go. And i managed to not only get that angle but also to then bend it then eventually break the little wire part while trying to bend it back into shape.
The good news was that the broken valve didn’t cause the tire to lose air any more quickly than it usually does. The bad news was my regular going and carrying bike started having the troubles that have caused me to park it for now. I rode the fixed for a while until I could feel the sponginess in the tires and knew it was time to make the repair.
I actually have at least three tubes that will fit the bike, and only two of them now need to be patched to be useful. I did successfully patch one and put it onto the fixie’s wheel. I gave the tire a number of good squeezes several times over the next couple of hours before I needed to actually ride anywhere, and I was satisfied that the patch was holding.
What I didn’t fully consider was chain tension when putting the wheel back on. I did consider it, and I felt that I was doing all right, and I’m fortunate to have been so fortunate. I’ve only ridden the bike a couple of times since the tire repair, but very quickly I realized there was an issue.
Another side track, but with the pedal/wheel/turn thing about the fixed gear you have a whole other type of speed control. Going down too big a slope may mean your legs are spinning at a ridiculous speed, but outside of that the bike will only go as fast as you let it. You can exert pressure into the pedal rotation, but even if you don’t a rolling bike inertias itself and your legs go round. However, if you apply pressure as the pedals come up on the back side of the rotation you can slow the bike. This can make for some real fun controlled speed situations. Also this should not be confused with coaster brakes which I personally remember from childhood BMX bikes. This is an actual brake that is applied by back pedaling as opposed to just the pressure of pedaling against the rotation forcing the rotation to slow.
Knowing this I’ll add that, before I messed with the back wheel, there was little noticeable play between pedaling forward and back pedaling. Think of it as your steering wheel and the mushy space between turning it left or right when the wheel is turning but the actual wheels are not. I knew this amount of play was a bad idea, and my initial reasoning, still true, is that it would put undue pressure on the chain and quite likely the teeth on both the front and back toothed gear type things.
What I didn’t realize, until it happened on my ride back from the grocery store, is that that little bit of extra slack in the chain can help the chain skip off of either the chain ring or the cog. And since there’s already no freewheel, part of this might just mean the chain jams up in the rear cog and causes it to essentially bind up, wedge in so tight the back wheel seizes and stops turning.
You might first notice, as I did, that there is a problem, because you’re pedaling has suddenly become ineffectual, much like pedaling a bike with free wheel when the bikes speed is greater than the amount of speed you can create by pedaling, think going down any slope in too low a gear.
If you’re lucky you’ll think quick and begin to apply the brake before the rear wheel stops turning and starts skidding, think quick stop in a car before anti lock brakes if you’re old enough.
What this all meant in the moment was that I walked about halfway back from the store, but I did get some pictures. I never want to stop riding to take pictures, though I should. I often see things that would/could make an interesting photographic image. I also like my pretty bike and to take pictures of it. So it was nice to have an excuse.
The moral of this story is maintenance. Know your bike. Know how these parts fit together and work. Squeeze the tires once in a while. Spin the pedals. Wiggle the spokes. Mostly be aware and fix shit early. I realized as I skidded to an early stop how close I could have come to a really bad accident. Not more than fifty feet ahead of me was the bend in the trail under the big tree where the damp coat of leaves still mostly covers the greenway. It’s a slick mess. There’s also the straightaway that ends in the slope and then the quick dash across five lanes of road that’s dead mostly on a Sunday, but there’s always an asshole somewhere.
Sudden and unexpected (redundant to go with your oxymoron from earlier) skidding of bike, given any number of variables, could have made this incident much worse. I didn’t lose my groceries, and I also didn’t lose my face.
And for a brief and scary moment, my fixed gear bike had a freewheel, sorta.
fwiw, finally got around to fixing the issue and found the spot on my tire where it skidded. And of course I now get to add at least the one tire to list of things to replace. And this is a whole other story about wanting to maybe replace the tires so I can have something a little fatter than 23c, like the Thick Slicks on my other, slightly more useful but less fun to ride bike. But that would mean different wheels, and that’s not in the budget for a while, a long while.
Today kinda sucked, but being a Monday that’s no surprise.
The weather sucked, and I got both kids to school late due to my inability to wake myself and wake them. We caught the later bus however, and I threw my bike on the rack on the front so I could get back home as soon as the ten year old was safely signed in.
I hit the grocery store on the way back so that the kids, who would later arrive back at my apartment a couple of hours before me, would be able to feed themselves food while also feeding themselves whatever video games they decided on. And I’m remembering that I forgot to ask about homework.
I nearly made myself late for work just by running late already and the morning call of the bathroom. I didn’t have time to make coffee at home so settled on iced tea before climbing back on the bike.
I trusted the rain to hold off, and it did. I arrived at work at least ninety percent dry. Of course the first thing I did, shedding layers all the way from the door, was start a pot of coffee. That done I whisked my backpack and layers upstairs to the kitchen.
I opened a couple of cooler doors, peeked at the prep that was eventually lying in wait. I spied the extra bunch of dishes I’d need to put away that should have already been put away. I didn’t yet notice that no meat had been pulled (haha) but that was to come as part of the inventory everything part of my typical Monday. Like the dishes, the meat pulling should have already been done.
I wasn’t yet on the clock, and this is all part of my Monday plan that always seems to involve arriving at work just in time to be on time but needing coffee and a cigarette before I can actually do any work. So I don’t clock in until I get a smoke and some caffeine moving through the supply line. As usual I clocked in late, though far from proving a disservice to my employer I merely stole hours (.5 of them) from my own pay.
And then, as I counted and weighed, I began finding random things that just didn’t get done the night before. I had a list of grievances, and the further I looked the more things I found that bothered me.
And then I grated a chunk of skin at the base of my thumb, though I managed to keep the skin rather than add it to the cheese. We have no bandaids the size or shape to deal with this, so in typical restaurant fashion I pulled a glove over it.
Of course we only have gloves size lg, and my hands are a md. This just means I pull the cuff until the glove is really tight on my hand then twist the cuff until I can tuck it under itself. At this point it’s snug enough on my hand, almost, and is slowly cutting off the circulation.
Better that of course than later when I decided to cut into the roast beef rather than just pull the packaging open at the conveniently supplied opening point. And because today sucked the knife slid too easily through more layers of plastic than I meant to open as well as more finger.
I’m only happy that the angle was such that instead of going into my finger the blade went along it. And now, the bandaid shortage and cut placement means paper towel and masking tape.
I flipped everyone off for the next hour, partly because makeshift bandaid is stiff and partly because fuck all ya’ll. Later at home I as able to replace it with a real bandaid (store brand adhesive bandage) which will leave a sticky adhesive mess later when a small amount of water proves too much for the overall integrity of the store brand adhesive bandage.
Finally, because of the aforementioned broken spoke (different post/different topic) I’ve once again switched bicycle pedals and will be relying on the fixie for the time being. Additionally I’ve gotten some really rough feeling feelings from somewhere on the bike with the broken spoke, and I’m hoping I’m just WebMDing myself into worrying about the bottom bracket.
But it could totally mean I need to clean and lube the bike’s naughty bits. Did I mention the part where I have trouble attaching the pump to presta valves and may have broken the end of one of my tires on the bike I’m committing too? I am going to change out the tube, probably soon. Promise. Either way my bikes are all conspiring against me. I should probably finally finish getting the mountain bike finally finished if this is how we’re going to be.
My point here of course being that I haven’t hurt myself enough. So of course I have to try to remove a pedal while leaning over the bike from the opposite side. It just wouldn’t be doing anything with a wrench and a bike if something didn’t give just in time for you rake your knuckles across the chainring.
Also there are two tiny and mysterious cuts on the knuckles of my two middle fingers on my left hand. I have no idea where/when/how they happened. But such is the life in the kitchen.
Finally, as of now, I should have been in bed ages ago. I’m getting no sleep and have to wake up in time to figure out the logistics of getting the kids to school on time this time. It’ll probably be raining, and we’ll do the bus again.
I kinda like riding the bus with the kids though. I wish it were longer. It’s fun to be trapped with them with no option for anything but to be. I should ride the bus more.
Green Day singer Billie Joe Armstrong is older than me. He’s only a few months older, so it barely counts, but I did get to point that out to my fifteen year old. I’d assumed I had him by a couple of years, but lucky me, or something.
Care for a longish story about why I now know this? Of course you do.
I don’t remember now how it came up, but recently the Baby Momma informed me that our oldest has gotten into Green Day. I’m not sure if he knew before tonight that I was once a Green Day fan. Sadly, I was young and dumb and too punk for this shit, and after they got really big I decided that they were sell outs, a term I don’t really use anymore, I think. I quit listening to them because I can be kinda moralistic that way. I do hope I’ve gotten a little wiser as I’ve grown older.
But really where I went tonight was looking for some music so that I could wash the last few dishes. The 15yo was laying on the sofa, probably texting his girlfriend.
I asked him if he’d heard of Norah Jones, and though I’m sure he’s heard her he didn’t think so. That’s cool, as she’s probably not generally his thing, but I enjoy a lot of what she’s done.
Recently Billie Joe and Norah released an album which is a cover of an album by The Everly Brothers. The whole thing is basically a bunch of old folk songs, so we now have an album that’s a cover of an album that was a bunch of covers. And having listened to the album I’m sure to listen again, but really I just wanted some music and to throw something out there for my son.
We listened to Long Time Gone, and I decided then to get his input on a Green Day song we should listen to. He couldn’t readily think of something, so I just went to an old song that I remembered and played that. I was impatient to get back to my dishes.
I settled, without really considering which song I was picking, on When I Come Around, and I had to pause the dish washing for a moment and watch the video, remembering it from when it was new. I explained to him that these guys were my age but was then curious as to how close we were. As I mentioned I’d assumed I as a bit older, but I was proven wrong. Thanks, Wikipedia.
And then, the choice of song really got to me as I remembered the crush.
I told him the story that, though I didn’t really come out till much later, the early nineties were when I first realized that I was gay. Part of realizing that, for me, was also realizing that I had a huge crush on Billie Joe Armstrong. He was so hot back then. I say was because I’m not sure about the whole look he’s come up with, but I’m sure if I were to get back into the music it would grow on me.
I’m left considering awkwardness. He was on his way to bed anyway, and I’m sure I kept him up a few more minutes than he’d planned on being up, so there wasn’t really time to judge it. It was a least a tiny bit awkward for me because discussing being gay sometimes is, and talking to your fifteen year old son can be as well. And of course for said fifteen year old it can be awkward to hear a parent mention the crush you once had on a singer they’re currently into.
I also don’t care. Billie Joe Armstrong is slightly older than me. That’s neither good nor bad, but every time someone is younger than me a puppy angel chokes a little bit on a cricket. Not bad choking, but a little bit.
So, apparently those tiny, gray bugs that I thought were new are actually some sort of stink bug, possibly the baby version of the larger, shield shaped bastards.
Whenever the kids aren’t at or aren’t going to be at my place for a couple of days I kinda let myself go. The sink is full of dishes. I’ve been smoking inside. There are two days worth of beer bottles on top of the stove, still not rinsed or anywhere close to the growing pile of recycling.
So it’s no surprise that there might be a bug or two in the house. It’s also cold out, and tonight we are probably going to see our temperature drop into the teens. Bugs like warm as much as we do I imagine.
I was probably using the mouse, pointing and clicking my little ass off, and as I removed my hand from the mouse/table area, I felt something between my last two fingers. I tried at first to just flick it off with my thumb, but it was stuck somewhat. Then I looked closer and saw a now familiar bug but thought nothing of it.
The bugs seem new because I’ve never noticed them before recently. They are small and almost square in shape. Their back end is a bit square with rounded corners, and the sides progress toward the front somewhat parallel then very quickly curve to give the front end a round shape. Perhaps that makes little sense, but it isn’t inaccurate in my opinion. They are also a dark gray color.
Soon enough the bug was off my hand, and I forgot about him. And within a minute or two I noticed that horrible stink bug stink. It’s hard to describe if you haven’t smelled it and is unlike anything else, and I can’t say I’ve ever smelled it when I expected it. It’s the kind of smell you’re almost afraid you’ll taste if you aren’t careful. I know not to disturb stink bugs any more than is necessary, but when they are on you you gotta do something.
And to make it worse, as I realized the stench, I knew what I’d done and smelled my hand. Sure enough, the little bastard left me a note. I immediately washed my hands, and the stink is tamed a bit, but I can still smell it on me. I really have to try to smell it, nose all up in the fingers, but still . . .
Many of the roads in my town have wide margins. Actually I’m not sure what they are called, but many roads, on the outside of both lanes, there is an extra wide side, almost like a bike lane. They aren’t really bike lanes as they aren’t marked as such, but for the most part they do make it easy to stay out of the lane sometimes.
Of course there are problems with using these as bike lanes, the most obvious when you’re there is that they aren’t swept, so whatever road crap there is gets pushed to the sides and stays in these margins. My ten year old has fat tires on his mountain bike that tend to roll over most anything you tend to find. My bike has skinny tires, being a road bike and all, and would face issues in these lanes but for the fact of my tires, made specifically to be extra tough for urban riding. Another problem is that these lanes end completely sometimes, and sometimes they just pause as when the road runs under the interstate and the wide margin becomes a sidewalk under the bridge forcing bikes into the traffic lane.
Today, while approaching an intersection, there was a truck in the margin on our side of the road. There was a van coming from behind us and a car coming toward us from the intersection. I was making my way into the traffic lane with my son behind me when the van from behind us chose to squeeze through leaving me with very little space and certainly not the three feet mandated by law that cars are required to give to bikes.
So I yelled at him, and as he came to the stop sign he did stop, and then he got out. This could end poorly, so of course I yelled at him some more.
He asked what my problem was, and I explained exactly what happened, pointing out that he was putting my and my son’s life at risk while I was taking him to school. I also asked if he was in such a hurry, and then I told him about the three feet passing law. He quietly reentered his van and drove another block where he again stopped.
As we caught up to him he waved me over. I almost yelled at him again that he was just making it worse and making us late, but he quickly began speaking and apologized if he’d passed too closely.
Seriously, he apologized. So of course I then felt bad and apologized for yelling at him, though in honesty I’m still kinda glad I yelled at him. I’m happy that I caused this conversation, and perhaps at least one more person is able to take that extra moment to think about those of us on bikes, and maybe my own apology will help him understand that, while I did yell, I’m not a jerk.
I really do just want to ride the streets in safety without having to constantly worry that the cars around me are driven by impatient jerks. I want us all to have the time and space to get where we are going, and I want for all road users, whether they’re using the feet to push themselves or to rotate a pair of pedals or just to depress a pedal, to always see each other and consider that we all just want to get to work or school or home or the store.
And it’s really simple, in almost every instance, for each of us to just slow down a tiny bit. Look up and around. Meet each others eyes and know that you are seeing another person, not a car or a bike, but a person using a car or a bike or just walking.
I feel like I have a lot of acquaintances, several friends, yet very few truly close friends. Maybe I just don’t see the friendships correctly, or maybe I’m just the kind of person who goes about life this way. I’m not registering a complaint so much as offering an initial bit of info for further inspection. Or maybe it’s introspection. You people are all only in my head after all.
I do know, at least sorta, a lot of people into a lot of different things. The place that I work tends to attract a certain sort of people some times, and the staff, both present and past, represent a long line of really cool people who also know people.
Recently a friend got a job working with me, and with her came visits from a few of her friends. One of her friends, while still not one of our regular regulars, has been showing up more often, and he’s always been a really cool guy. I’ve met him a time or two over the years, but very slowly, since the common link we’ve shared has been working there, I’ve seen more of him and been able to talk to him a little bit.
Because this is part of my own thought process, here we have to pause and make the argument about having a type, and by that I mean the kind of person you are attracted to. Up to a point, given the proper introduction and some knowledge of a person, almost anyone can eventually be our type. At the same time, there are those people that, when you see a particular group of human physical characteristics represented, your heart does that little thing for a second. Spanish soccer player David Villa is my own personal example.
And this friend that’s been coming around more often was suddenly a blip on my radar without being anywhere close to what I’d have considered my type. And I also know that having a type doesn’t really mean shit unless you’re just really hung up on that sorta thing, and I do also know that I may not be his type.
I’m not even sure where I’m going with this. I’m certainly not trying to get myself into a situation while also not avoiding it. I don’t need it in the way I really do need a lot of other things, but it would be nice, or could be nice. I’m also wary of any sort of entanglements anymore. I feel like it too often just leads to trouble or remorse or frustration, and I really don’t need any of that.
As with anything only time will tell. It’s nice to mildly obsess over someone who might, finally, not be straight. I haven’t been goofy about anyone in a while, so I might as well enjoy it, and while I’m there I’m going to try to enjoy being my cynical self in case I need to pretend later that I’m coming out of this unscathed.
Talking about the view this morning made me think of the creek. The stretch of greenway between home and the grocery store sorta follows the stretch of creek it’s named for. In the warm months the creek is a wonderful place, and I often stop on either or both of the two bridges that span different parts of the creek. I have a moment, thinking maybe my brief commune with nature, the gurgling and running of the creek, might ease some stress, negate some negativity, whatever woo-ey sorta whatever. But in the winter the creek feels cold, and I seldom stop. Even on those nice, cold days, those invigorating, sunny days so perfect for riding.
A peek out the window minutes ago proved that at least the rain part of the weather forecast was correct, though as of yet it’s only a few drops on the windows of my neighbors’ cars. We’ve also been warned about possible snow or wintry mix. Rain and snow, when you ride a bike especially, is never a fun weather situation. Of course I have options and can get rides, so don’t worry about that. I’m not above taking a ride when it makes sense to.
The kids and I rode today, and if we hadn’t been running late, and if my youngest hadn’t been on the edge of a mood, I’d have taken a picture of the Smoky Mountains in the distance.
Our town is in the foothills of the mountains, a range of ridges pushed up over millennia as the ground did that thing land masses do when forming mountains. It makes for hilly cycling, but sometimes it makes for the most random views of the distance.
And today, for that brief moment, the sun was just up enough at the edge of the clouds. The Smokys were a sawtooth edge of gray while the sky was an expectant dark gray, foreshadowing, if you will, the weather we’ve been told to expect today. But between the grays was the most brilliant ribbon of pink.
I love that riding a bike, when I’ve left on time, affords me these chances to just stop and look. I feel as though I’ve noted this view, or perhaps the idea that there should be a view here. Or maybe it’s the first time that enough elements came together, time of day, season, bareness of trees, weather.
Whatever junction I was fortunate enough to witness doesn’t matter so much as that it stuck with me. Chances are I won’t see it again for a week. I won’t likely have the kids on another school night till Sunday, and I don’t usually get to that part of town, and I am even more unlikely to wake up early enough to catch the view again till Monday morning.
But now I know to look for it. And though the camera on my phone is currently the best camera I have, I’ll try to remember to get a picture if I can get enough of these elements to work for me.
Fwiw, I do have another camera somewhere and could even claim two other phones, no loner in use, with cameras, but I won’t be buying film for the first or service for the latter.
I ran into a neighbor at the grocery store earlier this morning. Today dawned colder than usual. The kids were at my place, and we were all dragging ourselves into being awake and getting ready to get them to school.
They’d both forgotten their bike helmets at their mom’s, and neither of them were really prepared with warm enough clothing, so instead of riding bikes to school we took the bus. They have bike racks on the front, so I was able to get them both to where they needed to be and not have to ride the bus on its full route.
We dropped my oldest off at the end of their mom’s street and continued to the elementary school to drop off the youngest. From there I turned my bike back toward home, stopping off at the grocery store to be sure there was food at home. The kids will beat me back to the apartment by a couple of hours later this evening.
I purchased the few things I need, stuffed them in the backpack and made my way to the front area with the buggies and the gumball machines and the electric scooter/shopping carts.
I’d not worn my flannel layer up to this point but had grabbed it. Remembering the cold from earlier I opted at this point to add it but had to remove my jacket. It was at this moment that the neighbor walked in and recognized me.
I think I saw the exact moment her expression changed from recognition of me to recognition that I was about to get on my bike.
At this point the temperature was probably not less than forty degrees and barely more. Given the proper layers and gloves and a hat it isn’t really so bad, but her face registered a certain sympathetic horror, and she offered me a ride.
I declined, grateful for the offer. She wasn’t sure at first I wasn’t just being polite, I assume, and she offered more firmly. I thanked her but declined again, attempting to assure that I really was and would be okay.
She relented and went about her business while I buttoned and zipped and pulled the velcro cuffs tight around my gloves.
The visit to the grocery store was the perfect amount of time for the sun to finally get past that point, and my ride home was mostly bathed in the lovely morning sun as it first begins cutting at the cold. And yes I was cold, but the trip from the store to home is mostly greenway and one easy hill.
Now I’m enjoying my coffee though not at all enjoying the weather forecast for this evening/overnight that sounds like whoever is in charge is just being mean. It’s almost time to head to work, though by now it’s warmed up quite a bit, so that ride will be even nicer than the last.
I seem to be fairly easily moving into winter this year, though I’m no more well prepared than ever. Somehow the cold just seems less bothersome once I’m on the bike, but it’s not any easier to initially move my ass in that direction. Or maybe I’m easily fooled because the true long, drawn out reality hasn’t quite set in.
I’m not sure that I’ve ever really experienced an actual Pride parade. Certainly I’ve seen bits and pieces, though it’s likely that more often than not I saw the end of the parade as I arrived at the square.
I attended Pride once in Atlanta, the summer I kinda, sorta, nearly came out. But I’m pretty sure I missed the actual parade. That day was kind of a weird one for me over all, and all I really remember is that I had the green backpack that I carried for so long, and though I started out wearing jeans, I quickly hid somewhere and cut the legs off with the knife that probably still sits at my parent’s house. It was a ridiculous process with a dull knife, but eventually I made it happen well enough.
I also ran into an old boss that day. He was he first gay person that I actually knew, and I was really a dick to him at one point. I could have been worse, and the situation didn’t end well because of me mimicking his voice. I don’t remember now what the point of that was, why I was upset at work to the point I was lashing out, but I was an asshole, and on this day I happened to run into him.
I very obviously very nearly cried as I apologized for what I’d done. I think it may have been a bit much for him. He’d been somewhat out for however long, and I’d only recently even come to the realization of what that different was that I’d felt for so long.
I didn’t know anyone else that I saw that day. I had no friends there, and I wonder now if I could have persuaded some people to go, though my list of friends I could do stuff with was amazingly short. And there’s probably a whole blog post about how I habitually keep that list fairly short, shorter than it really is I sometimes think.
Within a week of moving to Charlotte many years ago but less than a year after my first Pride I was attending that year’s Pride in that city, and yet again I really don’t remember a lot. I was there with a new friend I’d met in Atlanta and even newer friend from Charlotte just prior to Pride. It was a weird time for me, lots of newness all around for me.
And since living here in fabulous Knoxville, the town in which I’ve kinda done some growing and where I’ve really and truly come out, I’ve attended a few Pride events, but the parade remains elusive.
I have, as mentioned, seen the end of it, but the end of a parade is not really a parade. I’ve even been to the Christmas parade, and yet the Pride parade remains elusive.
Pride itself is at a new location, a relatively old location to be honest, but for Pride it’s new. I’m not sure how I feel about this location and will likely miss the old, and I’ll certainly miss the reasonably priced alcohol I assume, but maybe I’ll just end up giving it a chance instead.
That’s all the verdict I have at the moment. I want to not like the new location, but I’m sure it’ll be just fine. It both will and won’t be the old Pride, and we’ll all have our own time together. The usual complaints about parking will likely arise, but I’ll have ridden my bike there, so it won’t matter. It’ll be a sparkly rainbow explosion, and for once, as every year, I’ll ride along on the wave and love us all for all the crazy we come up with.
And maybe this year I’ll make it somewhere in time to see the parade. I may also have to decide about the kids. They’ve been to a Pride, and I’m not the least concerned with taking them, but it’s a Saturday, and they often stay with their grandmother in order to be up early and go to her church, and The Mom is possibly likely to want to go, but her new boyfriend probably won’t, so she might not. But she might work, and the kids might be with me, and I don’t even know whether any of this will even be a concern till later.
But maybe I’ll see the parade finally. I feel like I really ought to make a point at least once. And it’s not like it starts that early anyway. It will be easy to see and then beat to the location probably. Maybe I’ll make a race out of it.
So even though I probably won’t actually make a race out of it, I might actually try to make it this time. It couldn’t hurt.