Old problems, new problems

At Boeing, inspecting the fleet

I'm in Seattle, getting in some big-hill riding with my bother-in-law, Jim V. It's a week till I actually head east, I'm in a long countdown. I have regular clothes, and riding clothes, and it's all in a tumble in the little spare room I occupy. I keep losing things, then finding them again, then losing them again, and I think the whole trip will be like that -- did I leave that map in The Dalles?

I've been waiting, kind of, for months, and it's driving me a little mad. Once I start, I think I will be cured -- but then  I'll have a whole other set of problems to confront. It's like applying for a job you really want. You get it -- then what?

I shipped my bike to a bike store in Astoria. They put it together, and I called them. We discussed the brakes and the tires, and lots of money later I'm getting new wheels and tires. The reason I couldn't STOP THE BIKE was that, after, what? 12, 15 years? the rims had been polished smooth and were thinning, and there was nothing for the brakes to grab onto. So they say. I guess I'll believe it. I need brakes.