Baltimore

We were out riding Saturday, hitting Lake Roland at Robert E. Lee Park. We were blowing down Bellemore Road in North Baltimore, a super drop. I mean, you’re running at 25 mph pounding the brakes, and you get back up 10 more miles per hour inside twenty yards if you let off the brakes. It’s not a drop for a problem. Toward the bottom, something sounded like it bounced off of my bike, my helmet visor and my glasses. Dan turned around. We stopped at Falls Road, and I wanted to touch my rims, to see how hot they were. Dan said he thought he snapped a brake cable, that something shuddered through his entire bike. I was like, “Yeah, you hit me with a rock!” I was thinking of how crappy the situation would have been if it had hit me in the tooth. We stopped for coffee drinks, hit the lake, chilled, cleaned out our brake pads and got moving.  A nice, relaxing ride.

Dan’s wheel was wobbling and hitting his brake arms. What the frikk?

We decided to walk the four miles home, rather than risk an injury or further damage. Dan was afraid that the heat of the descent warped his rims. I thought maybe he snapped or bent an axle. I mean, I can true a wheel like a sumbitch (for not getting paid to do it and having very little experience, that is). But I didn’t have any spoke wrenches on me.  We got home fine, though, and all was well.  I ate half a pizza for dinner.

Talked to Dan Sunday, and he found the problems. Bent axle, but also a snapped spoke. It was still attached to the nipple (huh huh huh), so we didn’t see it. No prob! We hit the shop, bought a spoke and went about getting it on. The freewheel was being a bee-otch and had to go into the bench vise.  The lockring tool had to, that is. That took a while. But then it came off, got cleaned up, Dan put the spoke on, and I got the wheel nice and trued up.  Working on bikes is a hell of a lot of fun.

Also, I was introduced to Lava Soap. Awesome.

[Also for Photo Friday: Professional.]

The sidewalk chalk area during the Ecofestival in Druid Hall Park last week.  North Baltimore Bike Brigade!  I really have to finish our website and get a ride together and go seriously public.  For Photo Friday: My Little Secret.

Didn’t get this up last week. Quick one. For Photo Friday: Cold. This is from the Washington Monument Lighting in December. That is all.

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Last time the weather changed, I was embracing darker images. That was a very very hot day in October, at Robert E. Lee Park, just north of Baltimore City. I was excited about bunking down for the eventual fall and the winter. I was livid that it was so hot, especially since we were to take a daytrip to Washington a day or two later.

Now, I’m happy when the forecast is warm. I am thirsting for some color, some sun, sandaled feet. I am bummed at this weekend’s forecast, which means movies and reading and cooking. But no fun outside awesomeness, especially since I woke up with a tickle in my throat today.

Poor me.

It’s been cloudy and crappy so many days this spring that I would enjoy a nice, sunny, hot day today.

Remind me, in two months, that I said all this.

Photo Friday: Fragile.

View larger to see my street in the red ball. Got this by accident. I have not been taking a lot of photos lately. I did update to the newest Wordpress, though, along with some theme-related updates. Like it?

At the risk of sounding like a complete jerk, what’s up with some cyclists around Baltimore who tote around like seven pounds of safety gear but don’t wear helmets? A guy just rode up University Parkway with bright dayglow gloves, jacket, hat and pannier. But no helmet. He had a half-dozen red lights, including one on his hat.

I suppose one could respond that the nature of his gear was to prevent a wreck, not to protect himself. Maybe he likes his bike a lot and does not want a crash. Maybe he likes cars and does not want to mess up people’s cars that might hit him.

Or maybe he thinks that getting hit from behind by a car that does not see him is the only way he’s going to get smashed. Not the Door Prize. Not jerk-ass joggers who avoid empty sidewalks to walk swiftly with jaunty hips in the bike lanes, with traffic, not against it. Not holes in the road or old storm drains with grates that run parallel to the street. Just saying.

I’m genuinely confused — not trying to start a helmet vs. no-helmet fight. I’ll cop to riding sans helmet during the two months in 2005 between when I bought my bike and when we sold our car.  I’m confused most by folks who clearly have safety in mind but still don’t wear helmets.

Last year, it was snowy and cold.  After a flick, we celebrated with a couple we love.  The hubbies declared their Irish-ness over pint after pint of Irish brew.  This year, it is sunny and beautiful, though a bit nippy.  I ran my errands on my bike today, weighing down my backpack enough to compress my chest, which kept making me giggle.  I need to use my rack next time, though.

I went to a St. Patrick’s Day Tea at The Crown and Thistle this weekend with my parents and aunt.  I was wearing a very green sweater and my red beard.  A quiet lady who worked there put her hand on my shoulder as she was walking by our table and told me, “You look like one of our real Irishmen today.”  I took that as a compliment.  I wore several pieces of green yesterday to a family party.  More today.  I’m drinking Irish tea and listening to Celtic music and enjoying the sun.  I am not much in the mood for drinking, though I think my heritage requires at least a pint or two of Guinness tonight, with the cabbage I am eating for dinner.

I delivered a head of cabbage to my parents’ house in Hampden on my bike rack today, wearing green.  I’m like a leprechaun today, I swear.

I volunteered during the past two Saturdays to help with a food drive.  This is one of those times of year (post holiday season) that the Maryland Food Bank is low on foodage.  In conjunction with Harvest the Hungry, a lot of groups and people are picking up food still this week.  If you live in the area, postal deliverers will pick up food from your house this week if you have it in bags near your box with some kind of note, if not the “official” bags Safeway is giving out.  It’s easy for you.  You should do it.  Totally.  We collected an unofficial thousand pounds of food last Saturday.  My uncle founded Harvest for the Hungry, and my parents have always been generous with the needy, so I guess it runs in my blood.  I did do most of my part side-by-side with my father both weekends.

Next year, I want to use bike trailers instead of pickup trucks.  Like these.

[While I'm nicely bearded currently, that is not me.  That is my friend Zack.  Nor is that my father in the other photo.  Just saying.]

Dan, trying out his new fenders at Druid Hill Park. He had to use the water fountain and his sport bottle to get enough mud to make his brakes work. It was awesome.

Last night, I was walking home on Roland Avenue.  I saw a man sitting in a very modern car, with the engine running.  After a mouthful of fumes, I thought to myself, “What is this creepy guy doing sitting in his car?”

Yes, people sitting in their cars with the engine running kind of creeps me out.

I looked, and amidst all the colorful lights and dingies and flingies and beep-beeps [I imagine], there he was.  Quietly winding his watch.

How strange.

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Happy Valentine’s Day, from a happy little Valentine. I know, tons of people hate this holiday. It’s Hallmark, the Devil, the Man, the Machine, yes. I am sorry. But.
I don’t care.

I love Valentine’s Day.

That’s easy for someone with a soulmate to say.

I know.

I am sorry if I break your heart with my exuberance, I really am. I will give you chocolate and a hug, if you require. French press of coffee and another hug.

We are off tonight (after Mrs. P. gets off work, actually) to what I consider my (maybe not the; I don’t know) most romantic place to eat in North Baltimore, the Papermoon Diner. I went there on my first real Valentine’s Day date when I was a teenager. From there we proceeded on a double-date with my brother to watch A Pyromaniac’s Love Story, a film chocked full of mid-90s optimism and impossible romance. Too bad it’s not on DVD and that I don’t have a VCR. I own a VHS copy, which I should digitally convert and offer the world on my website until the Man shuts me down.

So many acronyms.

The Papermoon does not remind me of a person. No, it’s a feeling. I miss the 90s and our feel-good apathy and when coffee made you almost cool. Now we are all afraid and all over-caffeinated. You can get good coffee at freakin’ McDonalds. Geez. There is nothing special about drinking strong coffee after dinner anymore and knowing what’s in all those fancy drinks.

But I digress. We insisted on a $20 price limit for gifts this year because whenever we decide on no gifts, we both break that rule. Twenty bucks is for sweet presents. Thoughtful things. It was my idea for homemade cards. So I pulled out my watercolors yesterday and painted extensively for the first time in over ten years, decorating the craft paper gift wrap and making a card complete with red ribbon and superglue all over my hands. Mrs. P. made me a giant cookie card. Yum and dang.

I hope I am not the only one to have a nice V-Day.

[Also for Photo Friday: Infinity.]

Why not? A cop in Baltimore did. But, then again, he didn’t get away with it. His fat ass is suspended. Sorry about the fat comment. But. Geez. You should see how skinny the Army made my brother get. And this guy…I mean, I tug my own little gut around everywhere I go, but come on. And he’s supposed to be a cop on foot. Shouldn’t that imply that he could catch a bad guy? It looks like he had trouble taking this kid down. Watch the video for yourself.

This is exactly what we need. With the crime problem in Baltimore, we need asshole cops that pick on little kids. That will solve everything. Skating is, you know, so much more important to stop in this city than drug dealers killing innocent people when they are trying to kill each other. I remember living in Boston, with a much lower murder rate than in Baltimore. The cops there, at least the ones I came into contact with, were just scary. I got yelled at once for cussing loudly in Quincy. Gee, I wonder if the scary cops you wouldn’t even spit in front of and the lower murder rate were related at all. Maybe being afraid of the police is a bad thing. But still, out-of-shape cops picking on teenagers is not exactly going to win the BCPD any respect. I haven’t exactly met a lot of, I don’t, good cops in this city. Some, yes. Mostly not. And I grew up here.

Mayor Dixon has expressed disgust. She’s right. Maybe she’ll shake up the Poh-leece some more.  I hope she does something to this jackass, who is totally making it easier to blame her and her administration for crime, like the local martyr Republicans like to do.  “We just can’t get a Republican Mayor elected in this city.  It ain’t fair.”  Wow, way to complain about DEMOCRACY, dudes.

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This is from a few years ago. With several attempts at filling a Pepsi bottle with fluid from a Bic lighter, Dan and Paulie produced this cool blue display at Dan’s house in Hampden.

Photo Friday: What Is That?

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I really like using the cargo rack on my bike. My frame does not have the holes for the top attachments (the 2005 and the 2007 both do, but mine’s the 2006), but I got it on in a sturdy fashion with the aid of something a biking friend of mine sent me, some electrical tape, and patience. I use my rack whenever I can. So when I had to take a stack of boxes to the post office last week, I was stoked. I rolled up with four packages, paid less than five bucks and left with an empty rack.

Sometimes, with large loads, I get stares and weird looks. I think it’s funny. I could not sit on my seat, though, with that many boxes, and it hurt my knees for the mile up to the post office. Then I got from the post office in Roland Park (near Eddie’s) down to Charles Village to have Mexican food for lunch with Mrs. P in ten minutes flat. Which rendered my pinkies numb, despite my sweet new cycling gloves that I got for Christmas. But I was in a good mood for all the errands, all of which were made more fun on two wheels. I remember what a chore going to the post office in the Dale was. I enjoy it now.

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I really don’t mind that it’s warm today, in the dead of winter. I know, if you’re awesome enough to have been around Pragmatik for a few years, you know this has been an issue for me in the past. I was jealous of New York’s storm. Then just annoyed at the lack of winter weather.

I sure whine a lot. Yes. I know.

Obviously, it was largely an issue of not liking where I lived. But also, I don’t know, my hands are cracked from walking and cycling (with sweet cycling gloves, no less). I’d really like to walk around my apartment barefoot for a day or two. Going to walk to Hampden because Mrs. Pragmatik needs more yarn from the yarn shop. Don’t need my large coat or huge scarfage, and my feet will not be “I wear Chucks numb.” How Kneat. I sure know how to spin…a….y-, arn, huh?

I have a headache and need like three gallons of water and maybe, I guess, one of coffee.

So temperatures in the 50s are Okay today. It’s not the world asked me or really cares if the Magical Pragmatik Guy thinks it’s Okay. Nonetheless, ask me Monday if I feel the same way.

I should really get around to getting my novel into better shape. And the whole, you know, dissertation I wrote. Geez.

For Photo Friday: Misty.