lucky.

   rosie and me went out to see if anything had changed on our favorite roads the other day. I'm glad we did, one of our favorite roads says: bridge closed june 10, wish they'd tell you when it's gonna reopen. I have nearly always stopped to admire the view at this spot. it's just a small bridge crossing the sunrise river in carlos avery, outside of stacy minnesota, but it's really nice. an endless vista on both sides of the road and ever present swallows diving and swooping everywhere. for some reason the road is much more traveled now and the bridge has lost some of it's charm as a stop due to the big rigs roaring by and there being no shoulder now, otherwise it's quite lovely.

   as I ride life's troubles seem to ebb and flow in my mind, sometimes pain sometimes relief. the bike is usually somewhat therapeutic, and other times just really fun to ride. today it's just beautiful and I make my own luck on the roads. I wander through minnesota farm country, small minnesota towns and cross the st. croix river and head into wisconsin. I travel north out of st. croix falls and stop here and there as something weird or beautiful catches my eye - like a giant snapping turtle who quickly disappeared before I could capture him on film (or 1's and 0's or whatever)

   I have spent more time on my bike alone than riding with others, this ride being the usual solo ride. you know it's nice to be with people, but I really like the freedom of coming and going when and where I please. and the bike is all about freedom. and there's rosie, she's not much of a conversationalist  but I know she cares, we're in this together after all. if anything ever happens, hope we go together rose, I'd hate to think of someone else riding you, we've been through so much together. how 'bout if some smart person makes you into art and hangs you on the wall? wait stop, sorry I said that rosie.

   I dive off the main highway onto side roads named 'z' or 'o'. these roads are often rougher, and rosie and me both love smooth highways, but here's where 'old weird america' lies (g. marcus) if anywhere. it is this old weird america that I love, it is this old weird america that has so much meaning for me. of course I know that much of what I think and feel about it is only in my head, but it doesn't matter. 

   as I drive by trade lake and past weird little cabins that I long to be inside of, I rue the day they will be rebuilt by some rich morons who will then do their best to drive the working class folk out with taxes and codes and death and pretty. a couple giant pretty / ugly monsters already encroach on this forgotten wisconsin lake shore. I guess the rest of my life is gonna be one long sigh...  in case I die before I say it: goodbye old weird america.

   I drive on to luck wisconsin and on a whim I call a friend who's girl has a cabin in the area, wow they are at the cabin. he meets me 'downtown' and three minutes later I'm...  'up at the lake'.  the cabin is nice but still exhibits the necessary funky charm needed to win me over. 

   our hostess brings us cold ones, and me and the dane sit on a porch swing to talk like a couple of old weird workin' men (I guess he's not so weird, so I'll have to make up for both of us) it's real quiet here, not much built on the lake as far as I can see. some hill people starting to build next door threaten to squelch the perfect private buzz of this place in the future, and maybe that's bad for these guys, I hope 

not. 

   as we sit and gaze at the lake canadian geese fly by in their perfect formation, nice. when suddenly a huge bald eagle hits the lake, was it a success? I can't tell, I do my best to capture the event for you my most wonderful fans. I catch the beauty as he flies by after the strike, but the iphone and my ever shaking hands render the results so-so. thought I'd share them anyway, you know in honor of 'old weird america'.

   the dane is a weather fanatic and informs me rain's coming, I have not prepared for this, guess we're flying by the seat of our pants, right rose? so I say my warmest goodbyes and we race toward the storm front, hoping to beat it. we arrive back in columbus warm and dry and the ride is pronounced a complete and utter success. and that's how you do it in old weird america. (we made it rosie)

sven.

p.s. reminder: kids, make sure and click and toggle the photos to blow them up, they are created with that in mind and really lose their intended effect otherwise.