From yesterday’s Boston Herald:
They look like rebels. They act like renegades. And clearly, they have no intention of going quietly into the deep, dark night. Continuing to spit in the face of convention, the Red Sox rallied from a 4-2, eighth-inning deficit to defeat the New York Yankees, 5-4, in 14 innings.
The Red Sox, a few minutes ago, just did what no team in baseball history has ever done – come back from 3 games behind to force a seventh game.
Why not us? Why not now?
Returned this Sunday to Massasoit State Park down the road in East Taunton with the sidekick for what we hoped would be two to three hours of solid riding around Middle Pond and perhaps on some of the calmer single track trails.
The day started off well enough – though it was around 50 degrees – as we headed down the main road – past Camper’s Beach, and onto the Middle Pond bridle trail to cruise the 2.0 mile course around the pond.
As you can see from this shot, I was cruising along pretty well.
And, as usual, the views from the Middle Pond Trail were quite impressive – particularly now that fall has struck New England with it’s usual ferocity:
But as we rounded the corner to climb up the west side of Middle Pond – while I was pushing up an incline, my chain snapped, and suddenly I wasn’t going anywhere.
I whipped out my Alien II multitool and went to town – only to lose the chain pin entirely and being completely stumped on how to proceed.
So, from 1.8 miles away, we hoofed it back to the car – as you can see below:
After that, we loaded the bikes back on the car and headed up the road to Silver City Bicycles where it took them all of five minutes to fix the chain – and give me a quick lesson in bike repair.
They’re great guys – go buy your bike there today!
Anyways, we had two hours of sunlight left, so we headed back to Massasoit again – and rode another eight miles – including that incline twice without losing a chain or any other bike parts!
During the recovery phase of our trip, we cruised around the Perry Bogs and took this photo of the holding pond for the cranberry bogs:
And, as a last thought, here’s the path we chose not to take while riding the Cranberry singletrack trail on the east side of the park:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
— Robert Frost
This morning, CNN reports the death of actor Christopher Reeve:
Christopher Reeve, the star of the “Superman” movies whose near-fatal riding accident nine years ago turned him into a worldwide advocate for spinal cord research, died Sunday of heart failure, his publicist said. He was 52.
Reeve fell into a coma Saturday after going into cardiac arrest while at his New York home, his publicist, Wesley Combs, told The Associated Press by phone from Washington, D.C., on Sunday night.
Reeve was being treated at Northern Westchester Hospital for a pressure wound that he developed, a common complication for people living with paralysis. In the past week, the wound had become severely infected, resulting in a serious systemic infection.
“On behalf of my entire family, I want to thank Northern Westchester Hospital for the excellent care they provided to my husband,” Dana Reeve, Christopher’s wife, said in a statement. “I also want to thank his personal staff of nurses and aides, as well as the millions of fans from around the world who have supported and loved my husband over the years.”
Reeve broke his neck in May 1995 when he was thrown from his horse during an equestrian competition in Culpeper, Virginia.
Reeve is one of my personal heroes from the standpoint that he had a horrible tragedy befall him – and then he moved forward and began to work on the problem. A great man of courage, in my mind.
About six years ago I saw him speak in Cleveland along with some of my co-workers. I’ve met very few people with his level of certainty that he would indeed walk again. You could hear that clearly in his voice.
RIP, Christopher. You’ve earned your place in history.
Biked today through Boston’s Franklin Park and Harvard’s Arnold Arboretum. 10.8 Miles roundtrip, very slow ride, top speed 27 miles per hour (down the Bussey Hill).
Near the Bonsai house a family played in the leaves:
On top of the hill near the Perry loop, my sidekick and I met some cute new friends – these two are just a few of the five or so dogs that were up there wandering about with their newfound doggy friends:
The view from the hill into Boston was stunning:
Near the end of the ride at Arnold, this lilly pond beckoned for your thoughts:
I’ve ridden over 35 miles in the last three days – and my legs can tell. But it’s all good.
Last week I finally posted a longish post about the war that we’re in. While it took me many weeks to put those thoughts onto virtual paper – Bill Whittle, in a fantastic essay in two parts, has written something far beyond what my poor skills as a scribe can fathom.
Some excerpts:
And all of this rage and fury and spitting and tearing up of signs, all of these insults and spinmeisters and forgeries and all the rest, seem to come down to the fact that about half the country thinks you deter this sort of thing by being nice, while the other half thinks you deter this by being mean.
It’s really just that simple.
Now if sociology were a real science, we could set up experiments. We could, in fact, do what just about every one of us – Liberal or Conservative — has, in our heart of hearts, secretly wanted to do: send that 50% of idiots on the other side packing – I mean, really packing, as in, out of the country, for good — and let history show we were right after all.
We imagine an America made up exclusively of tough-minded Conservatives would be a far better, a safer and stronger place, than an America composed of nothing but compassion-filled Liberals.
They, of course, think precisely the opposite. And I have, over the past two years, determined that internet comment threads do not hold the answer to this predicament. Theirs, and ours, are usually just cheerleading sessions, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing but a soothing reduction in blood pressure brought about by the narcotic high of being agreed with.
We can’t, alas, deport all the left wingers and they cannot, damn it, silence all the right wingers. We are stuck with each other. Each sees the press as biased toward the other, and each gapes in awe and amazement that the other side could possibly feel the same way.
And although we can not run an experiment to look into the alternate futures to glean the best result, to determine the relative benefits of being nice or being mean – for those, ultimately, are the choices, believe it or not – we can at least look back to see which seems to have produced the best results in the laboratory of history.
It all comes down to carrots (liberals) or sticks (conservatives). By the way: if you’re in a rush and need to run, here’s the spoiler: You can offer a carrot. Not everybody likes carrots. Some people may hate your carrot. Your carrot may offend people who worship the rutabaga. But no one likes being poked in the eye with a stick. That’s universal.
I’m a stick man. I wish it were different. But part of growing up – in fact, the essential part of growing up – is realizing that wishing does not make it so.
Folks, it’s time to reach down deep and get in touch with our inner adult.
And another:
This line, this doctrine – either you’re with us or the terrorists – has drawn derision and scorn from the nuanced sophisticates from around the world. What they refuse to see is that in one brilliant stroke it cuts the camouflage away from terror, and in effect neutralizes the very lever that makes International Terror so effective a tool: deniability. More on this in a moment.
I sat amazed at the confidence and the vision President Bush outlined in that speech. I remember saying out loud, to no one in particular, “I was wrong about this man.” A few of the grips nodded in silence. None of us took our eyes off the TV screen.
You simply have to read what he’s written. Part One and Part Two.
