My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

Squeal Like A...

When I pop into your head at random times, as must happen now and again, do you think of me as:

  1. That beer brewer who bicycles?
  2. That cyclist who brews beer? Or
  3. That writer who brings home brewing supplies on his bike?

“Ha! 'Writer.' Don't make me laugh." Fine, but the fact is I used to get up every morning and write something, anything, even if it was just a grocery list, but now that the internet has total control over my every waking moment, feeding me fascinating pictures of former Hollywood starlets who are now near death and tales of how most problems can be solved with this one weird trick, I almost don’t write at all. But I do brew beer and ride a bike.

Which brings me to my gripe du jour: I can’t get the front brakes on my touring bike to stop squealing. I don’t mean that these brakes peep a little, I mean they squeal like a pig coming to grips with its fate. “Toe them in, for crying out loud!” Yes, I know. I’ve toed these brakes inside out and upside down. I’ve cleaned the front rim. I’ve replaced perfectly good pads with more expensive ones that I scuffed up, all to no avail. “Sometimes, you just need to get a new rim,” they tell me at Broadway Bicycle School in Cambridge, MA.

At fifty or sixty bucks for a machine-made rim, I think I’ll just let them squeal.

Continue reading
  2720 Hits



J'Biden Era Haikuage


People's Arms. That's right!

200 million shots

In 100 days


We are good people

But we still have far to go

Repair. Restore. Heal.


There's nothing new here

The Affordable Care Act

We're restoring it 


America's Day

Democracy is fragile

The world is watching 


Strategy is based

On Science, not politics

Truth, not denial



Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Art Eclipse Dad advice Mass General Hospital Martinis Cornhole star Guns and Ammo coronavirus weather Mustard Advertising Soup Knots Hache Verde Higher Education Hot Air Balloon Texting Bicycles Boston China Quebect acerbic high school principal curling shoes baseball Cars The Future afterlife Hand Planes Liz Phair gathering throngs Allergies COVID midwinter vacations plan mid-winter vacations Plastic vacation Weather Things I've done Christmas Audio Roommates I've Had NPR 1980s The Past Ice Dancing Good Reads Cats Communication Channels technology Putin People I know Trump Spice Girls Politics As Usual The Old Days Me Car Dealerships New England Mike Doughty Vaccines Fiction Sports Syracuse Work Golf The future US Senate Ukraine Music Ketchup Bands I haven't seen Mom and Dad Skating Audubon Bar Zoom Them Kids My grandparents seasons Chowder Vaughn Bikes Bunker Yeast Bands I've seen Sugarbush Diseases Canada Snow Guns nukes Imaginings high winds punk music Wind cornhole Stairs Royal Stuff Canadiana Brain Surgery Belgian Ales Climate Change Soviet Union Spoon the band the sea Accounting Bands I've Seen Beer Hawaii Hurricanes COVID-19 Bodysurfing My Estate Food Red Sox Drumming TV War and Peace Theater My sisters Big Shoes Coyotes Tom Waits town square tambourrine Rabbit Hole Existential Crisis Folk Music the future Soul Coughing My Parents Grass Skiing Eating and Drinking Email When I die Religion Marketing Gimmicks Barber Shops Scotch and Sirloin Rock Bands Peacekeeping Skiing Pats Biden Reveillon Bob Dylan soapbox rantings Earth Ticketmaster