Old Fools Journal: The Dog, The Walking Stick and the Way to Stop A Bicycle Quickly

The new old bike in full dress. I have a temporary basket for the front should I need it but this bike combines fun and utility so it will mostly get left behind.

I think I'm finished setting up the new old bike. I have changed over the rack and folding baskets on the back along with the tool bag. The bell, rear view mirror and computer were not changed over when I test rode it the other day. I was kind of lost without the bell and the mirror. The bell because it tells a couple of the dogs it's me and the the little kids like it. The mirror because I don't have eyes in the back of my head. I did find that since I last rode without a mirror that I have gained some flexibility in my neck and can turn my head far enough to see behind me both ways now. What a pleasant surprise. I wonder how that happened.
The seat was the real time consumer. Even though I find the bike comfortable the way it is I like the seat set back so that I am not right over the pedals.This part is made
from this.

The cargo bike, the Schwinn and my folder all have the seat set back three inches. I thought I wouldn't on this bike but I tried it and it is much more comfortable set back. The fabrication of the part that makes it possible took some time and metal work. It has been so hot and humid that I am really limited to when and how long I can be out there in that Turkish bath I call the bike shed. The seat itself is too wide for me so I'm using the seat from the Schwinn which is just right.



So I set off to fetch some dog grub for the dog pack from one of the local stores and return some magazines to the library. I ride through a modest quiet little neighborhood on this route that has a few short little dead end streets that I sometime ride down just to aggravate the ankle biters that run free in violation of the law. Of course they came out in a pack like the cowardly sons of bitches they are (that is not cursing it's what they are). I was riding dead slow and went for my weapon (walking stick) with the intention of making the bravest one less brave. I fumbled, lost control of my shillelagh and jammed it into my spokes. It was a very effective brake. The bravest of the brave was so close the he ran into the bike, scared himself and took off, his cowering cohorts right on his heels. I could hear them barking from deep under the house trailer where they took refuge. Brave Sons of Bitches indeed.

One spoke very slightly bent but the wheel appears to still be true. I will take it off and check it the next time I can stand to be in the shed. (It has been checked and it is fine)

This bicycle rides sweet. I wonder what the chances of finding three old bicycles that fit me for free are. Pretty long I'd wager.

The long suffering and abused 35 year old Schwinn is in the tear down phase for a rebuild. It's going to be better than ever. I have yellow paint but I may paint it red to make it a little sassier. I do like ladies in red.
Road Hazard, there be horses in these parts.
Essential bike tool.

Old Fools Journal: A Plague of Frogs

I guess it would be a plague of frogs if you don't like frogs but I like'em (taste like chicken). The princess likes'em too and this one would be in her hot little hands if she was here. This guy or girl as the case may be (I wonder how you tell) is doing mosquito larva patrol. He/she is residing in a temporary pond in the wallow dug by Suzy our watch pig(dog) this summer.
I'm in the water and I'm under this stick so you can't see me.

This frog is only about 2+ inches long (too small to eat). We have had so much rain of late that the ground some days is covered with half inch frogs. Not complaining. It beats cockroaches. We are expected to have record numbers of mosquitoes this fall. We already have record number of fleas.
The watch pig having a snack or biting her nails.

It has been raining everyday here in southeast Louisiana so many outdoor things are just not getting done. At least I could get out this morning and tend my tomatoes and the rain has caused the ants to push their hills high enough to be easily seen. I have to murder at least 10 million ants a day or I have to move.

I did get into the shop today. I have been avoiding it because of an infestation of fleas that I have been unable to knock down. Yesterday I did the scorched earth approach and so today I could get into my shop without being drug to my knees but they are still there. The dog pack stopped scratching so much and started going where I wanted to go so that was my sign. Who says those dogs are not useful.

So I got into the shop and what did I learn. While burning an autograph into my hand crafted walking sticks (primitive art you know) I learned that it doesn't take long to detect that that you are holding the wrong end of the burning iron. I have worked as a blacksmith horse shoer and I went to school to learn the craft and have papers to prove it so you'd think I would not need further training but there you go. I believe that "think" is the key word. The man that taught me to shoe horses (Delroy was his name. Isn't that perfect?) once walked over to my forge and picked up a hot shoe that I had just remove from the fire. Ten seconds before he pick it up it had been glowing red. It was in the spot that we were all trained to put hot shoes. If a shoe was in that spot it was hot. He, of course, turned it loose and then turned to me and said "didn't take long for me to check that did it?". We never mentioned it again. Hell of a guy.

This crooked walking stick is called "Gustave 5" and how do those art people that call this primitive art or craft or whatever they call it know I'm primitive?
Why I am making walking sticks I don't know. I seldom use one but the wood just seems to want to be one.