Thrill Ride

I was about to go to bed tonight when I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to get my bike working again and go for a late night ride. I haven't been on it for three months, since the front brake cable snapped. I know it wouldn't cost that much to fix, particularly with the help that friends have offered to provide me, but I've been too preoccupied to follow through on the various plans I've made to do so.

I weighed the pros and cons. Because it's Sunday night, there wouldn't be many cars on the roads. On the other hand, the Monsoon rains have made the roads treacherous for two-wheeled vehicles by strewing them with rocky sand bars. Skylar starts third grade tomorrow, so it would be good for me to be rested. But I've been sleeping more poorly than I did when I was riding before bed. Finally, though, the promise of a reprise of last night's Perseid meteor shower tipped the balance in favor of making the effort to get back on the bike.

I inflated the tires, made sure the front and back lights were in working order, put on my most reflective shirt -- one that pissang and our "living dead" beetle Blackthorn know well -- and headed out for what I figured would be a short practice run. The night was so beautiful, though, that I ended up doing my full wintertime ride and then some. Who needs front brakes when the world is so welcoming? I saw plenty of shooting stars, but the moonless, cloud-studded sky was reward enough. Pedaling through the night turned out to be an excellent idea.

And so did the adjustment I made to my front light as I got rolling. Although I'd never ridden at night in the summer, aside from mini-laps on the safe confines of Faith Dawn Court in our subdivision, I remember my first days in Tucson over at Hummingbird House well enough to be mindful of nocturnal creatures of the potentially troublesome sort. So I pointed the beam down a bit, so I could get a clear view of the road surface ahead of me.

Almost on cue, as I was riding the darkest, most rural portion of my route, I spotted a snake crossing the road. I had plenty of time to avoid it, but couldn't tell what kind it was, since my L.E.D. light makes everything look oddly pale. Not wanting to miss the chance for a critter report of my own, I doubled back to see the tell-tale black and white stripes on the snake's tail. Yes, this was the first live Diamondback rattlesnake I'd seen in the wild since the two we saw through the safety of the JCC's floor-to-ceiling windows a few years back. Needless to say, I'm glad that I didn't run over it while looking up at the night sky. More than that, though, I'm just happy to have seen our desert's most iconic predator again.

We Are Family

Since Barry Bonds has apparently been the second most discussed person on this blog after my daughter -- he figures, perhaps presciently, in my second LJ entry ever -- I would be remiss if I failed to report on the reception he received today in Pittsburgh, where he began his career:

Bonds' 1-for-3 made him 6-for-10 against his former club this season, but Paul Maholm (8-14) pitched a three-hitter in the opener to avoid becoming the major league leader in losses.

Bonds, usually booed in Pittsburgh because of his playoff failures with the Pirates from 1990-92, received a brief standing ovation as he took the field in the bottom of the first and a louder one during a video tribute between games. Bonds, who has 758 homers, tipped his cap, bowed once and waved in response to a loud ovation from the crowd of 25,434.

It was by far the warmest ovation that Bonds has received since he left Pittsburgh in 1992 following seven seasons, three of them NL East championship years. The Pirates haven't had a winning season in the 15 years since he left.

There were cheers for each of Bonds' plate appearances -- and, again, after two of them. He grounded out to first base in the second and struck out looking in the fourth before lining a single into right field in the seventh, all against Maholm.

The fact that it has been a decade and a half since Barry left and that the Pirates have been losers every one of those seasons says a lot about why he would get heartily booed upon his returns to Three Rivers and whatever the new stadium is called. The fact that he was received so warmly this time says a lot about the degree to which people who care about baseball are able to act independently of what the sports media tells them they should be doing.

Confusing Black and White

The story of a woman who called police to report that the cocaine she'd purchased was not up to snuff -- or smoke, in this case -- is surely making many people laugh. But it's more than an anecdote. Her actions show that even someone in her altered state knows that the real function of the state is to serve the market. She just forgot which market she was dealing with, a problem encountered by many people under the influence.