The cliche, better late than never, isn't a cliche for me. It's my life, aside from the parts I don't even show up for at all. Lucky me, when it comes to riding, the later the better. So rolling around under the brand spankin' new 1500 lumen piece of sun that I stuck on top of my helmet has been most welcome, and even being 3 days late for the supermoon didn't kill the vibe.
Also late, the first thing Kev29er stated as a must-have when he learned I'd be building a house here at the Rancho Relaxo was an outdoor shower. That was, I dunno, 5 years ago maybe. I can't find the email now...it was that long ago, back in the days of hotmail, v-brakes, and the perceived spectacularity of suspension seatposts. In short, he was tired of mopping the ticks off his sweaty head with my garden hose, and if you're going to upgrade, you might as well upgrade.
5 short years later, boom:
I'm not saying it's perfect. You'll notice, I imagine, that the Simple Strap currently serving as the door latch is the most well-engineered component of the whole getup. But if Kev29er ever rides here at lunch again, it'll at least hide his shame while he scrubs the bugs off with his sweet, pink loofah and other shower accessories, and thank God for that.
Also late, also poorly engineered, also likely to fall apart in a matter of years: the entire state of Florida. But the good news is that, if the place doesn't just sink into the Atlantic, Miami will be the next Whistler.
|this just in: Miami kicks ass.|
I got to spend a little time on the best of the local goods a few weeks ago. "The next Whistler" might be an exaggeration, but they're giving it a go down there and that's worth something. Exactly what, I'm not sure. I will say that, without any real sense of uphill or downhill, riding a mountain bike there means you're constantly on the gas. So combined with the heat, two hours of riding will send you into the take-out menu way too frisky, and $55 later you've got like five leftover pizzas. Which is to say, everything works out fine.
What's not late, however, is my son riding a bike. He's most certainly a little early, evidence by the fact that he can just barely get a leg over the seat when he mounts up. This photo actually looks a little bit like me trying to ride C-ham's bike.
Lots of crashing. Lots of bruises. Minimal tears, though, and since I'm never early to anything these days, I'm planning on pushing the earliness here right to the very edge. The plan for tonight is to crack open a couple of Tecates, rip down that baby gate, and ride down the stairs a few times. It's Friday after all.
The schedule doesn't matter. Do it anyway.
Up, up, up.