I’m on the bike this morning and it feels great to ride again.
Weather and circumstances conspired to keep me off of the bike for the entire month of June. The trip meter showed 1 mile traveled since I gassed the bike at the new Citgo station and rode it home on May 30. Shameful.
I had to brush away spider webs from the mirrors to the handlebars this morning and examined the interior of my Arai helmet closely for spiders before I pulled it on.
I can go years without washing my bikes – a frequent observation by some of my friends in the Indianapolis BMW Club – because I tend to view bugs and road grime as a badge of honor. Sitting in the parking lot in front of Hastings, my bike has a bug collection that ranges from Florida to Wyoming and Colorado.
But spider webs and dust from idleness are quite another thing and an embarrassment. So, unless something comes up, my bike is getting a good cleaning this afternoon.
In the meantime, I’m still waiting for the rent check that our tenant told Maria he overnighted to us yesterday. The postmistress said they occasionally get late morning special delivery runs from Jonesboro. She took my cell phone number and promised to call me if it shows up. Try that with your average big city post office where they substitute attitude for service.
I hate to think the worst of someone, but being lied to and stolen from are right at the top of my list of intolerable things.
The guy works nights and our original plan was for Maria to call his wife at home, operating on the assumption that his wife can make him far more miserable for fucking up the rent payment than we ever could.
But the evening got away from us and it was almost 10 p.m. in Indiana before we got around to making the call. Maria was loathe to bother the wife and kids at that late hour, so she opted to call his cell phone and get him at work.
Whatever. The postmark will tell the tale if and when the check arrives.
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