Spring has finally deigned to arrive, and it appears to be a pretty good one. Saturday I rode in the Cycle Into Spring, a group ride put on by the same people who do the Tour de Troit in the fall. Whenever I think group rides are a waste of money, I think of the police escort and the wonderful feeling of rolling through under the red lights. Worth $25, in my opinion. Ten bucks extra bought lunch: Three sliders and two sides from Slow’s, the barbecue place.
All in all, a perfect morning. I’d planned to go to the Eastern Market early, but even at 7:30 a.m., the freeway exit was backed up for a quarter mile. I ducked out and opted for breakfast at the Jefferson Avenue IHOP, where one of Alan’s colleagues had to submit to a full body search to be seated after midnight one night when the tunnel was backed up.
No body search. In fact, hardly any other customers. But it made for a nice early breakfast. IHOP — the classics never change.
And the ride was quite nice. I went with a friend, who stayed to my right and kept the blind side filled with a friendly presence. Twenty miles in three hours. It was a cinch. Then sliders, then home, then a nap. And that’s what I call a Saturday.
How was yours?
I would have taken some pictures, but I’d recently edited this column, and am thinking you don’t always have to take a picture to prove you were there.
Although sometimes you have to take a picture. This is Jerry, who helped us get the mast up:
The wind vane at the top of the mast got whopper jawed in the raising, so Jerry went aloft to straighten it out. This was a new one. Brave Jerry. We tipped him.
Do I have some bloggage? I do:
The Atlantic photo blog delivers again. Great pictures.
A video of a wolf pack howling. Those of you who have cats — I’m interested to know how they respond to this.
What is going ON with this episode of “Mad Men?” If you have a clue, share.