Sunday, January 31, 2016

Winter Ride

It was an absolutely beautiful day in Central PA, with the sun peeking out and the temperature warming up to the high 40s. I just HAD to get out.

I had a nice, easy ride in the valley.

I stopped in at the local gas station to fuel up, and the snow was running off the roof in a small waterfall. It was a warning that there might be slick spots out there, and I should exercise caution and a little common sense. Hey! I can do that!

There is never shortage of breathtaking views in this area of the country.
There was no lack of salt, gravel, cinders, and other detritus on the roads, but there was always a clean path throughout the ride. Nice and easy in the blind corners, but I rode at a much more spirited pace than I initially thought I would.

I love the old farm houses that dot the landscape here, and the use of the natural stone that inhabits the surrounding fields.

The road...

...goes ever onward.

When people ask me why I ride, I try to describe moments like these.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Review: Sherlock Shaving Soap by Chiseled Face

Skulking my way toward Baker Street as London's mist descended at twilight, I struggled to remember just what it was she'd said. What was it? The memory flitted about the outskirts of my memory like the vision of that Baskerville Hound, prowling just beyone the glow of the firelight's reach. Surely it was there, if only I could peer a little more deeply, see just a bit more clearly. Resigning myself to having lost the memory, I pulled the collar of my coat close about me to ward off the impending damp.

And that is when it all came flooding back. That smell! How narrow of me to be looking for that clue, when I should have been reaching back across time with the sense most associated with memory. That smell! The leather and pipe tobacco mixed with a hint of pepper and syrupy caramel flooded my nostrils, taking me from this day to that, shaving at the sink with a rich, full lather, the soap building up into an impossible texture of thick mossy cream. She wrapped her arms around me from behind, pressing against my back, and that's when she had said it. I smiled now at the memory, remembering how her lips felt, moving against my back as she had mouthed the words, and how I thought, "Surely this shave can wait a little longer..."