movies and biking and hotdogs

I was going to call this post “A hotdog and a movie” … but that might be misconstrued as self referencing…

First the movie: Mr Pip with Hugh Laurie. If you love the great books and Dickens in particular, then this story of a small Island caught between the Soldiers and the rebels in a revolution – and the impact that story can have is brilliantly done. The location is exotic and the flashbacks to Pip’s England with an island flair are magic. The lesson is honorable as well, in that moment of choice – who do we choose to be. I just had to tell someone.

If you drive an hour or so out of Chicagoland into Indiana you can find the Erie Lackawana bike path. It’s a pleasant well maintained rails to trails kind of path. You can link it with the Monon trail which has a more urban feel and loop it in to get a nice 50 or so miles. This sign near the trail seemed to show the perfect business… 24 hour laundromat, milk-shakes and hot-dogs. Maybe Indiana is cycling heaven…

Have I fainted in the heat and awakened in cycling heaven ?  Well,  Indiana anyway.

Have I fainted in the heat and awakened in cycling heaven ? Well, Indiana anyway.

For our lunch, we had a hot dog and a root-beer float ( generic root-beer ) but hunger is the best sauce….


long roads – cycling

Wisconsin has a rolling heart of the country beauty. Living near the city we often forget how wide and bountiful the US is. Although on climbs there is often only one thought in mind, the next pedal stroke, I find cycling a good place to work on poems. It can be a solitary moving meditation, a place to pray.

Chris coming up a long hill

Chris coming up a long hill

After three days on the road, a stay at a legendary bad motel “Ikes”, and a thirty mile stretch of rolling hills, a glass of New Glarus Old Milwaukee Belgian Red hits the spot. Hunger may be the best sauce, but this Lambic like brew which tasted of cherries is the single best beer I have known.

Near the Fox River’s gentle boundaries Daffodils peek forth amongst the trees Iridescent in winter’s defiance As I and spring silently passed them by I did not stop and tarry there Though in Summer heat they’ll wane and fade And yes, I loved their beauty dearly But had places to be and promises already made

Near the Fox River’s gentle boundaries
Daffodils peek forth amongst the trees
Iridescent in winter’s defiance
As I and spring silently passed them by
I did not stop and tarry there
Though in Summer heat they’ll wane and fade
And yes, I loved their beauty dearly
But had places to be and promises already made


cycling back into time – rootbeer

If you start in Naperville Illinois at the crack of dawn and head toward the Fox River bike path, you’ll catch the mist rising above the ponds. Then Northward bound along the mighty Fox river the daffodils burst into sight and the frog princes croak their song of undying love to all the frog maidens as you silently pedal by.

Up near the Wisconsin border in Richmond after sixty miles or so along the path you’ll find a small fast-food joint still attended to by pretty teens who’ll take your order and bring you a hot-dog or a rootbeer and a smile. It was a long day riding, about 73 miles total and I hadn’t seen a Dog N Suds since the 1970’s. We pulled our weary seats in and enjoyed a root-beer as celebration of a day well done.

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It was 1973 she was sixteen, I was seventeen and her first real job was car-hop and the local Dog N Suds. That year root-beer was the taste and flavor of youthful romance. She brought the root-beer out in a frosted mug ( just like the old days ) and it was lightly carbonated, slightly sweet with just a hint of licorice, just as good as I remembered. I told the story to our server, did we look so young at sixteen too, and she smiled and told me there were only a handful of franchises left in the whole country, a place of distant memories and tastes.

a sip of tastes from the past

a sip of tastes from the past


back in March

See you in March….

What I may be imbibing until I return in March...

What I may be imbibing until I return in March…


city lights – cycling

I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow the lights of the city…

Does not a bike capture the best of being young at heart?

you can take the kid off of the bike…


the brightness of the lights – cycling

When I was a kid, we used to have streamers and take baseball cards and use clothespins to attach them so the spokes made them echo a baritone trrrrrrpppppp as we rode. Progress is good,
and cyclist visibility makes all the difference. Here’s to being different.

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the bike as art

Form and function as art

Form and function as art

I don't know if I would commute on this bike, or frame it...

I don’t know if I would commute on this bike, or frame it…

Also posted on 2wheels2kids.wordpress.com