Monday, December 11, 2006

It's a Conspiracy

I dragged myself out of bed early enough to get out on the fixed gear before work. It was still dark inside and out as I dressed by feel. I know my wardrobe well enough to select attire for any conditions without having to see any of it. Good practice in case I go blind.

In the kitchen I turned on the lightning-addled TV set for a quick look at the weather.

"Freezing rain is coming down across many of the colder valleys of the central part of the state," said the meteorologist. The TV doesn't show color anymore, but some big smear on the radar kept rotating, over and over as he repeated the loop.

I poked my head out. He was right. Sleet pattered on the dry leaves, while liquid drops glazed istantly on the glass and sheet metal of my car.

We'd gotten a nuisance amount of snow out of the last storm, not enough to groom, but enough to spooge up the road margins with a slick mess. Any residual ice would welcome these reinforcements. I wasn't going out in that.

It's all turned to plain rain showers now that I'm miles away at work. This morning was my window. Maybe tomorrow morning will work out better. Forty miles separate me from 4,000, that tantalizing round number of annual miles. For what it's worth, it gives me an objective. Then it's Wind Trainer Winter until something better comes along.

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