THURSDAY MORNING COMMUTE

I shipped a bike to Denver, but was too sick to ride. I had a bitch of a cough/cold that absolutely leveled me.

Back in LA, I am looking at dwindling days until next weekend's Tour de Sewer62 mile ride and not enough time to train.

Commuting is the only option. Its results will be two-fold: to clear up the rest of the phelghm in my lungs and to attempt to get my legs back.

This morning I commuted to a job by bicycle. Made it from Eagle Rock to Cullver City in an hour and ten minutes. 17.25 miles.

Eagle Rock Blvd. -> Ave 36 -> Fletcher -> Glendale Bl. -> Silver Lake Bl. -> Sunset -> Benton -> 3rd -> Rampart -> 6th -> Commonwealth -> Wilshire -> Westmoreland -> Venice -> Culver -> SPE.

Keying in the route is tougher than the ride itself, I reckon.

On Venice Bl., I was averaging 18 mph, but the traffic lights seemed to be synced to 23 mph... I rode 23 for a couple of miles, but my tongue started hanging out...

Once I got to the job, I began hacking up lung cheese, but not in the prodigious volume I had feared.

THE OTHER SIDE OF HOLLYWOOD AND THE COYOTES OF TRASH TRUCK ROAD

I met the Indie Rock Manager for coffee and an afternoon brunch in Los Feliz. An uneventful ride there, except for taking the time to hit the bike store and pony up for a new kevlar-lined tire (the old one was frayed and the metal was probably responsible for the slow leak that had hampered my last ride...).

Descending Eagle Rock Blvd., I realized that when I removed my tire at the bike shop, I had also taken out my water bottle... which, of course, I left next to the bike pumps.

I used a twelve-letter word and then calmed down. I stopped at a third world mini-mart in Glassel Park, keeping an eye over my shoulder as I purchased the bottle of agua that would fit snugly in my bottle cage... The Hispanic clerk expressed wonder at the lack of spokes on my wheels, which he called rims.

After chow, I rode alone up Hillhurst, past the Greek Theater and on to the Griffith Park Observatory. From that pinnacle and ridge, I could see the Palos Verdes particularly clear, and was looking at the reflection of the Sun on the Pacific Ocean. An absolutely transcendental and clairvoyant vantage point that drops the drawers on any painting in a European museum.

I crested the ridge that houses the HOLLYWOOD sign, and began my descent down Trash Truck Road, which is the back way to Travel Town in Burbank... I had an epiphany about hauling ass down these mountain roads, as I realized I am fairly adept at setting up the curve in a hairpin turn (i.e., making a straight line out the curves), but get myself into trouble when there are a series of hairpins. I concentrated on that algorithm and was reasonably proud of my ability to hit a certain speed and not get myself into trouble...

In the middle of that smug bliss, I rounded a corner at a brisk pace and saw an animal from in my path... For a second I thought it was a mountain lion and my mind began going through various atavistic and instinctual responses, all of which have been mutated through the human animal's ability to travel on wheels faster than he or she can run...

The form came into focus and I realized it was a coyote... it looked at me with indifference and I kind of did the same.