I went all last season without saddle sores so I naïvely figured I had found the perfect chamois & saddle to ride painlessly forever. I don’t know if it’s the Humidity or the poor technique due to the long Winter lay-off, but I have disquieting saddle areas which persist beyond chamois choice, saddle choice, & route choice. It may just be that I’m getting old; old skin heals more slowly.
Twitter pal came through town on his way to Knoxville, on his way to see an old friend who had retired & was casting about for what to do with his life. A question alien to me: Ride, hit, read, write. It may be I have small desires, but I equally therefore have small worries . . .
Until the next disaster that is. Some of which has been once again surprisingly obviated by Dad’s having an unknown Life Insurance policy; he knew how to level many of the transition bumps. Such perspicacity is a trait I must develop to make the things my folks wanted to happen happen. Lawyers & Bankers as Salve, oh my.
Ecbatan 