Do you like apples?


On the heels of my recent mention of the Minneapolis West Design Works ‘Aether Demon’™, what should I stumble across but yet another fiercely creative video edit featuring just that very product;

The clip didn’t feature Cheever’s mullet, but I suspect the Aether Demon™ is a quality product just the same.

And while we’re on the topic of stumbling across things on the internet, while busily looking through cat videos and pornography, I came across the following flyer for a bikecycle event occurring in Syracuse, New York TONIGHT;
For those who don’t know, Syracuse is a city in, and the county seat of Onondaga County, New York. It is the largest U.S. city with the name “Syracuse”, and is the fifth most populous city in the state. At the 2010 census, the city population was 145,170 (making it the 167th largest city in the country), and its metropolitan area had a population of 662,577. It is the economic and educational hub of Central New York, a region with over a million inhabitants.

I suspect they also have a substantially large number of tennis balls there.

If you’d like more information on this (the bike party, not the city), and you happen to be a member of the Book of Faces, it can be found here.

So let’s continue with a short story.

When I was in second grade, we began learning how to tell time. On the second day, a counselor came into the room and told my teacher he wanted to speak with me. I could tell she wasn’t very happy about it, but this guy was the boss, and whatever he had in store for me seemed like more fun than looking at those little plastic orange clocks everyone was noodling with. After sitting down with him in his office, he began discussing with me the fact that at least one of my teachers had noted that I seemed withdrawn and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

I can recall very clearly having no idea what he was talking about but knew that I had to tell him what he wanted to hear. I told him that I was sad because my beloved dog Fred had died. I mean, I was bummed about it, but I remember not being depressed to the point that I should be in therapy. After a week or so together, he leaned forward and with a smile said ‘put ‘er there’, extending his hand. I gave him the Hardy Boys book I was holding.

He laughed and said, ‘no, I want to shake your hand’, indicating I guess, that I had been cured of whatever he’d presumed to be ailing me.

When I finally got back to class, all of the kids knew how to tell time, and I was still totally in the dark on the concept.

Fast forward to my eighteenth year of life. I had left for college, and still never learned how to tell time, until one day I looked at a clock and all of the pieces fell into place.

Now because of this, I am terminally on time. In most cases, I’m even five to ten minutes early, because due to all of those years of not knowing how to read a clock, I learned to always give myself an extra buffer, so my dark secret would never be reviled. Once I moved to California, (a state where everyone is constantly five to ten minutes late), I developed a pet peeve to beat all pet peeves regarding other people making me wait.

Well, it was just yesterday when I traveled to Marin to meet a recently made acquaintance named Tara for a mountain bike ride- (remember, I used to want to keep women out of cycling, but I’ve long since abandoned that directive). As I was traveling to our meeting spot, I realized that I had forgotten my camera. Should I turn around and risk being later than traffic was already making me, or just rely on my phone to obtain photographic proof that 1) I actually have friends aside from my make believe ones, and 2) to document what promised to be a lovely day exploring trails of Marin with said non-make believe friend?

I opted for the latter which was a good choice because traffic then came to a sudden stand still, and as I watched the minutes tick down to our predetermined meeting time, my self loathing grew. For you see, the only thing I hate as much as people being late, is me being late.

Thankfully it ended up not being by much, and my riding partner was very gracious when it came to playing the waiting game.

Finally, we were on our way, and with a slight breeze at our backs, we rode trails, and fire roads, and double track and a flow trail with lots of berms and jumps and bridges and everything that leaves you smiling like an idiot;
Image via MCBC

Eventually, I braved the camera phone and attempted to snap a shot of her, minus the top of her head, but I failed spectacularly;
It’s rare that I make new friends, and it happens with less frequency the older I get because like all old men, we get set in our ways and everything pisses us off, but upon asking if she’d like to stop for a mid-ride beer, and having her response be a resounding yes, I knew that she was probably good people;
At the end of our ride, we broke bread, tipped a pint and discussed Ornithology, and flowers, and family, and hiking, and travels, and all manner of things that make the world go around.

Despite my old man grumpy ways, and that I was late to boot, I seem to have managed to make a new friend.

How do you like them apples?

Spread this like it's sick

Leave a Reply

2 Responses to “Do you like apples?”

  1. aaron October 4, 2013 at 5:54 am #

    reminds me of Throw Momma from the Train:


  2. Largo October 4, 2013 at 6:06 am #

    Stretching personal boundaries indeed; new women riding friends on full suspension. Full suspension forsooth!