I bike to work today on the repaired cycle. It still is running a little ragged. I may need to take it in and get the chain swapped out for a heavier one. The one I have keeps warping on me. I think that the gears on the front may be a little jacked up too--they look to be a bit out of line. I find that the crank is still a bit loose, but am not surprised given what a pain I had getting it on this far. I console myself with the fact that at least it isn't coming loose. The hot weather from the last two days is gone into mildness again, and I have a nice breeze on the way in to cool me. Maybe God is trying to get me to bike more. On the way back, I think I've almost got the ride dialed: Waterwheel to Truxel to Garden Hwy to the ass end of the American River Bike Trail into Old Town. From there down L street's sidewalks, cutting over on about 14th street to avoid construction and down to K the rest of the way. The reverse trip was the same, but I took a right through the Amtrak station and down onto that ancient overcrossing down by the swivel bridge, avoiding the spooky section altogether. I was playing WCIII and planning a shower and some dinner when I hear keys in the lock. Did Andy go on the trip after all? I couldn't remember. Imagine my surprise when The Fam comes in looking quite road-weary. The best I could tell was that they were going to be back maybe Tuesday. They'd made the marathon trip, however, and cut the drive down to two days.
I scrambled to get my shit together (and the bag containing a recent "present" out of Andy's room--the cat's shit together) so they could crash in peace. Good thing I was in between levels. Packing under duress actually goes much quicker than I normally go. This was probably assisted by the fact that I had to do everything at a macro level: one load into the wash, as many dishes as I could manage in the machine, some mess just had to stay. Ah well. Not exactly the welcome I'd planned, but the best I could manage in less than six hours.
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