Air Bags

Last night when I spoke with Dad he suggested checking the air bags under the rear of The Rig. These bags are shock absorbers. Dad recommended that I keep them at 70 pounds of pressure. When they need more air I have this huge potable air tank that I assume I could use for scuba diving if I had an inclination to suck some funky air underwater. I checked the bladders this morning and found the left bag in want of some air. It was a good time as any to conduct an experiment after yesterday’s flat tire episode. I thought I would try to add more air using my bike tire pump. I was able to pressurize the bag to 85 lbs without much effort. I released some of the air to bring the pressure back to 70 pounds. Now that I know I can use my bike tire pump, I like to ditch the tank when I return home in mid-September. It would save some room under the table.

Fresh Corn
Fresh corn for lunch. I am going to miss summer for more reasons than just the warm weather. Remember when corn at the farmer’s self service stand was a baker’s dozen for a dollar? I paid $3.00 for six ears. When my sister Robin and I were kids, Dad took us camping at Hearthstone State Park on Lake George, New York. We pitched the tent and dad dug a trench around the perimeter. That night two things happened. We cooked corn for dinner and it had to have been field corn, for it was the worse corn I have ever eaten-far worse than anything shipped to Micronesia on the boats pretending to be corn. It is a wonder why I even like corn after that less than succulent experience. Later than night it poured. Outside other campers scrambled around in the rain diverting water away from their tents, while we laid in our sleeping bags dry as cotton.

Book Promotion
I mailed a dozen books and poster to Atticus Books and Café where I have a signing on September 7, 2006. When packing the books, I pulled out two that had scuff marks on the cover from the incident in Boston when books went spilling all over The Rig. These books I donated to the libraries in Portsmouth and Middletown. Both Libraries seemed very appreciative of the gesture. I suggested that they let their books clubs know of my book. Slowly I am honing a skill that is not natural for me – selling.

Melville Ponds
The campsite I had been in all week was reserved for the weekend so I had to give it up for higher and more exposed ground. For the next three days I will be in the field with no shade. Thankfully it has been overcast today and there is a breeze on this hill. I also discovered the path to the ponds. I wondered were they were. The campground is named Melville Ponds Campground, so I assumed there had to be ponds someplace around here.

The trail around the ponds was no more than a path beaten down by those young fishermen who take trout out of these stocked waters after April. I had intended to bike around the ponds, but returned my bike to the camper after I reconnoitered the trail and determined it was more inline with my younger brother's exploits.

On my way out of the woods I was able to quietly approach an animal I have not taken sight of in years. A mink. His coat was jet black in the shadows along the banks of the small stream feeding the ponds. He silently slipped along the rocks and roots trying to allude me. When he hit a path of late afternoon sunlight his thick coat revealed its truer color, a deep rich earthy brown. I watched him disappear under the overhang of the stream's embankment. My glimpse of him was all too short, but precious.

A Long Walk
I marked the mileage I would have had to walk with my bike yesterday if I had not been fortunate enough to cross paths with Pedal Power. Six miles from the point I got the flat. It would have been a long haul back to the campsite. A good stretch of the road has no sidewalk or shoulder to walk on. It would have been a brutal trip that I am sure would have left me exhausted, sun burned and irritable. Expect when you are alone, can you be? Or does it matter?


Today's History Lesson
John Lester Hubbard Chafee (October 22, 1922 – October 24, 1999) was an American politician. He served as an officer in the U.S. Marines, as governor of Rhode Island, as the Secretary of the Navy, and as a United States Senator. This statue is in Colt State Park in Bristol, RI, a very patriotic town where red, white and blue literally runs down the middle of their streets.

Diablo
Life is good on the open road.