I just got back from delivering our hand made dog treats. They sell pretty good in Cafes and pizzarias. Lucky for me, thats the same kind of places that get bulk Garlic, thats where my 2.5 lb jugs come from...recycling bins.
I met lots of people out on the range, from little kids pointing and screaming to a mail man who was also delivering.
I saw one of my friends at a cafe I walked up on him and pretended he was looking at dirty book sites, I won't say his name to protect his filthy identity (hint* he has hair).
I got to the part of Mississippi ave. where the whole Portland part of this story began back in 98.
The place sure is different than it was, some changes are better some worse all are relentless.
I rode by old friends house buy didn't knok on any doors.
I treat people the way I wanted to be treated so I don't drop in unless I see the people outside already. Many a time Iv'e been pulled from the shower or worse by a well meaning friend who is dropping in out of bordom.
I knock if there was a call first or if I have some kind of buissness.
On the way back i passed an old wooden porch, it had no paint, the flowers and weeds were just creeping over the bottom planks and the whole house had a flood of amber light pouring out of in in the late afternoon sun.
There were hoola hoops dangling from the poles of an unused clothes line and I think the roof my have been uneven and for a house that looked so lived in, it was empty.
I tell ya what friend...I only passed by it for an instant on my tall bike and was able to suck all that in and transport myself back in time to Texas where I was a child on just such a porch and with such conditions.
I remembered placing my tounge on such rails as a toddler, I still recall the taste of salt and dirt...yeah I dig the real thing.
On the way home I found a cool thing about tall bikes; flowers smell much louder at 8 feet and doing 10 or so M.P.H.
I had a very sensual ride.