WW: Autumn self-portrait

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Summer rest stop

(Stopped for a rest on a long bike ride the other day and noticed the picnic table pretty much told the whole story. Helmet, gloves, granola bar, Alan Watts' autobiography. These are the sweet days of summer.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Pump on the fork

(When outfitting my bike for trekking seven years ago, I gave the lugs on the seat tube and down tube to water bottles. With none on the top tube, there was no obvious place to mount the pump. Since I'm loathe to cram one more thing into my rack trunk, and not currently mounting paniers, I just bolted it to the front fork.

Sounds pretty boring, eh? I thought so too, until it got so much commentary from other bikers. Now I can't instal any paniers up there, or I'll miss out on all those conversations.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Late summer still-life, August 2022

WW: Windfall

(Found this brand-new pair of bike gloves beside the highway today, about 30 yards apart. My size and everything.

Normally, when this happens on a bike trail, I leave the lost article where it is, or hang it up in a prominent place for the owner to find. But you can't leave stuff on the road shoulder; passing cars quickly reduce it to rubbish. And, as is often the case on roadsides, there was no effective place to display these. Finally, when you lose something on a trail, you can retrace it, if you judge the time and effort well-spent. But on the road system, you're turning right and left and things get complicated fast.

And these aren't the most expensive gloves, to say no more. Had I lost them, I'd probably not re-ride a long trek, if I even noticed they were gone.

Sometimes you just have to accept the unearned blessings of futility.

May my involuntary benefactor profit from the karma points accrued.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Bikecombed skeleton

(One thing I love about biking, rarely celebrated by those who sing its praises, is the stuff you find by the side of the road while doing it. An astonishing variety of wealth flies off the traffic speeding by, including, at last count, about half the tools now in my shop.

In this respect, bicycling helps to fill the gap left by the loss of ready access to a beach.

Another case in point: this portable apocalyptic horseman, discovered par terre last week while pumping up a long hill.

Which serves me well, because though I always candle Smiling Jack each year, I've never had any other decorations. So now there's a skeleton hanging on my door. Rather like a Christmas wreath, except, uh… bonier.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Bike in the jungle

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Railway iron

(This is a pile of old railway iron, found in the ground by a bike trail maintenance crew. The trail was built on the right-of-way of one of the many narrow-gauge logging railways that seamed this part of the world right up my youth. All have since been decommissioned; some, like this one, were converted to bike trails.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Bike fudo

(Made this one for a local bike path, using some hardware I got from a shop in town.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Chimes of fortune

(I found these by the side of the road while riding my bike. They're meditation chimes. There's a small broken hanger on the lower end that may be implicated in the accident that put them, somewhat the worse for wear but otherwise intact, on the shoulder, but the rest remains a mystery. Another bicycling monk? Doesn't seem likely in my little town. But who knows?

Chalk it up to found dingstock and another Zen mystery.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: On the road

(I don't know why I like this one so much;
somehow it just looks like me.)

WW: School apples

(Swung into this back-county primary school a few days ago, looking for a place to get off my bike and rest in shade. As I coasted into the carpark I was delighted to find an entire row of summer apples! Two dwarf varieties – a red one and a green one – espaliered against the front fence. Both heavily in fruit.

There's nothing like a tart, juicy, sun-warmed apple of a late July afternoon, when the tarmac is melting under your tyres and you're hungry and thirsty. I don't know whose idea it was to instal this waist-high orchard, but he or she was a genius. Now I come up with excuses to pass this school – which is generally well off my track – so I can enjoy a few more.

May your scrumping be as rewarding.)

WW: Reflector shoelaces

WW: Self portrait 3

WW: Retrogrouch

(So I'm getting ready for a ride and I happen to catch my reflection in the mirror.

Ho-lay.

A "retrogrouch" is a biker who bemoans the passing of older fashions and technologies that may not have flashed "I've got more money than I know how to spend", but also didn't look silly or fail to function.

I count myself a proud resident of that battered dustbin. If you're familiar with biking, you can't miss the symptoms: crocheted gloves; military surplus trousers; fad-proof helmet; German-made spectacle-mounted rearview mirror not made for decades; and the unforgivable Piece of Resistance: toe clips.

Because I'm neither a racer nor Italian. Nor, for that matter, a fool.

Oh yeah, the attitude? Also regulation.

But I had no idea how deep it ran until I caught that glimpse. A few minutes on the Google, and it's diagnosis confirmed.

Either that, or transmigration is a thing after all.)



(Photo of my brother Vincenzo Milano – who was Italian, and a racer, and is probably swanning the bleeding edge – courtesy of GallerieFotografiche.)

WW: Bike iron

(Got this fine haul of fudo rings [many of which are reflecting a rare blue winter sky] from a local bicycle shop. Normally they'd just have thrown these worn-out cogs away, but the mechanics were more than happy to fill a bag for me when I asked. Major score.)

WW: Autumn ride