In Vino Veritas

It’s Thursday, and right now that means two things to me. First, it is half-price bottle of wine night at Baker-Peters Jazz Club, and Mrs. Guy and I are going. Second, I have a certain self-imposed obligation to post trivia questions (you know you want them). I am happy to report that more and more people are submitting answers these days, which would become apparent if I could only get my act together and update the standings. I am hereby challenging myself to do that tomorrow (and remember, you heard it here first).

OK, as always, there are Rules to follow for this little quiz, and also as always, please send your answers to bgoab (at) mindspring (dot) com.

Ready? Let’s begin.

1. What is the most visited national park in the US?

2. What British general's surrender at the Siege of Yorktown effectively signaled the beginning of the end of the American Revolutionary War?

3. What was the common nickname used by pirate Edward Teach?

4. There are three Orders of classical architecture. They are Doric, Ionic, and _______?

5. In Roman mythology, who was the goddess of the hunt?

Bonus Question: Who was her Greek mythology counterpart?

Canis Interruptus

I finally got out to ride this evening. I was a little later getting out than I'd hoped, so I knew it would have to be a shorted ride. Also, the skies way off to the west looked ominous. For that reason alone I chose to stay within a reasonable distance of home.

I decided to ... well, no, let's not say I decided to. I ended up riding a bit of a cloverleaf type of path through the Karns area of west Knoxville. Saying that I decided to implies that I planned it at some point. I really didn't. I really just let the bike steer me where it wanted to go. What I mean by that is that I just picked a new direction on whatever whim came to me at each intersection point. No real thought was applied, except that I didn't want to get more than ten miles from the house at any point.

As I wound my way around Karns, letting my mind wander about here and there, I found myself doing a lot more sprinting than I would have liked to do (I would have liked 'none', in fact). Every dog has its day, I have heard, and I think that day was today. There were dogs out everywhere. Even at house where I knew there were dogs, it seems that the owners had decided to let them off the leash, or carelessly left a gate open, or, well, you get the idea. I could get away from most of them easily enough, but there were three that I actually had to stop for.

I really hate having to stop for a dog. It's only the larger, faster dogs. Usually there's just one (at a time) and I am able to keep my bike between me and them until they get bored, the owners call them off, or I can walk (angling the bike as needed) out of their 'territory'. The first was called back by an apologetic owner. The next two got me as a pair, but thankfully they weren't smart enough to try to out-flank me (I do only ride one bike, after all). I was able to get away from them when a car came by slowly and distracted/confused them.

I didn't worry too much about the dark skies off west for a good while, as they weren't really advancing any, but when I noticed that the wind had shifted and was blowing west (it usually comes from the West), I thought it might be high time to head on back toward the house. Just as I was angling to negotiate a rather rough section of railroad tracks, Mrs. Guy called (her timing is uncanny). I had to skid to a stop so I didn't end up face-down on the tracks (or just past them).

Mrs. Guy: Is it as nice there as it is here in Nashville?
Big Guy: Yeah, it's a nice enough evening, but its looking bad just west. I'm trying to get home before a storm hits.
MG: Yeah, it's just beautiful here. I'm walking back from dinner and its really pleasant.
BG: Uh huh. It's been nice here so far, but I'm trying to get home before I get rained on.
MG: Have you called Jeff about dinner tomorrow?
BG: I will as soon as I get home...which is where I'm trying to get to.
MG: See where they want to go, 'cause you may have to call for reservations.
BG: Sure, Dear. As soon as I get home. Which I hope will be soon.
MG: Sounds like you're trying to get home. I won't keep you. Call me later.
BG: 'kay.

...sigh...

Well, I did get home before I got rained on, but not before I had another problem. Remember that I mentioned skidding to a stop? Well, I've been riding on an old set of tires, and the skid apparently was enough to cause a slow leak. By the time I turned into the neighborhood it was getting really squidgy (biker-speak for 'hard to control'), and I had to let the last dog chase along at my heels until it got close enough for me to shower it with Gatorade from my waterbottle. I do find that to be effective to stop them, though it cuts down on the amount available for consumption during the ride. That close to home I just let him have it.

I wonder if the owners will notice how sticky he will be later tonight?

Soaked

I sepnt my morning wandering around in a hot and humid building escorting a couple of subcontract bidders around so they could do estimates. I was wearing a reflective vest due to potential traffic in the building. Vests are not very well ventivated. It didn't take much (plus climbing up and down a few sets of stairs a few dozen times) to drench my shirt. Yuck.

I went to lunch with a few coworkers after I'd had a little time to cool (and dry) off. It started raining while we were gone, so I got to walk back through the parking lot from the far end (all the close-up places disappear during lunch) through the rain. Hmm. Wet again.

This evening I was planning on riding, but the thunderstorms have hit my part of East Tennessee. That stopped my from riding, but it didn't stop me from feeling that I needed to do something about the dead-flat tire on the station wagon. It wasn't raining hard while I was changing it, but I worked up another good sweat while doing it, plus the little bit of rain that was falling. Soaking wet again.

I was considering riding to the Post Office, but I can still hear the occasional thunder, so no go on that one. I think I'll go get soaking wet one more time, on purpose, in the shower. At least I'll have a towel close at hand so I can dry off easily.

Will I ride tomorrow? Tune in and find out...

Paint

That's what I did yesterday. I painted. I painted a countertop I'm building (well, I put polyurethane on it, but I did use a paintbrush). I finished painting the master bath. I painted the front and rear door frames. I didn't get much else done ('cept laundry), but that was enough to keep me busy. I certainly didn't get to ride any.

Today at work I was outside all morning climbing ladders and such. It wasn't an especially hot day, but I got overheated anyway, likely from the exertion and humidity as much as from anything else. I still don't feel fully recovered from that. So I didn't ride tonight.

I really must ride tomorrow. Going more that two days in a row off of the bike can be detrimental to my conditioning, my overall weight-loss program, and not least of all my sanity. Maybe I should say "especially my sanity."

I'm starting to go through withdrawals.

...and the mountain bike is calling me... (Soon, soon. Be patient just a little longer.)

Bird's the Word

I went for a ride today. For someone who advertises himself as a Big Guy on a Bicycle, I sure haven’t seemed to spend all that much time on that aforementioned bicycle recently. But I did today, so the appellation sticks.

I met John H. and Duane at Duane’s house. From there we rode one or two miles to meet up with Gary B., who I’ve met before, but haven’t spent much time riding with. He and John H. have done a lot of riding together though, including this year’s edition of RAGBRAI. I must do that one someday.

We headed south, and hadn’t gotten far before they were describing the roads to me and the turns we were taking. “Uh, guys? I know I live out in West Knox and all, but I do an awful lot of riding in this area.” That worked for the most part. I think that on our whole 38 mile ride, there were maybe three miles of road I hadn’t been on before…maybe.

I really don’t get to ride with Duane or John all that often either, because I was a little surprised at John’s tendency to ride off the front every time he got to the front of the paceline or every time the road went up. He’s turning into a very good climber, but I hope he’ll remember not to accelerate each time he gets to the front.

Gary led us on a well-paced ride, calling out the lefts, rights, and straights at each intersection. He obviously rides those roads a lot more than I do, since he knew exactly what route would give us the right ride distance of around 40 miles.

Gary and I were riding along beside each other on Neubert Springs Road when I hit, well, something. It flew in from the right side of the road and hit me square in the chest, both startling me and knocking a bit of the wind out of me. Then it started buzzing like a chainsaw. It took a few seconds for it to find its way back off of me, but it eventually flew off again. I think the whole event lasted maybe five seconds, but it was five seconds too long. “What was that? A bird?” asked John. “No, it was a bug of some kind,” I replied. “It was huge, what ever it was,” said John. “Yeah. That it was.” I’m just glad it didn’t go down my shirt, because I probably would have crashed.

We climbed up the big hill on Neubert Springs to the top, with John and Duane taking the top honors in that order. I wasn’t too far behind Duane, but well out of distance to outsprint him to the peak. Gary came up last, but I think he’d been riding a little before meeting us, and he and I had been on the front for most of the ride (except up the hills). Gary left for home from there and the three of us left over turned back and rocketed down the hill we’d just climbed back toward Duane’s. John learned a valuable lesson on the descent. He may climb fast, but when it comes to the downhills, it’s best to just move on over and get out of the Big Guy’s way.
_____________________________________________________________

By the way, old trivia answers are back on the old blog site.

...And Then There Were Eight

Oh Pluto, we hardly knew ye. Relegated to the far nether regions of the solar system, you have dimly touched our imaginations for lo these many years. Only relatively recently had you become once again the ninth planet from the Sun (after spending a number of years closer to the Sun than Neptune due to your slightly elliptical orbit). But no longer. Poor little Pluto…perhaps it just was never really meant to be.

I have followed with more than passing interest the news coming from the proceedings of the International Astronomical Union during the last several days. It seemed that your planetary status would be confirmed once and for all at first, and even that you would be joined in the celestial dance of solar system planets by three others. Perhaps it was their fault that you got kicked out of the club. We should learn from this how important it can be which friends you ought to associate with. Perhaps it all stemmed from a reluctance to admit ‘Xena’, but they knew they couldn’t keep her out and keep you in?

Well Pluto, I suppose that this news will not be too great a heartbreak for you. After all, it may be some time before you even hear the news of your demotion to ‘Dwarf Planet’ (though some ‘political correctness’ group is probably already working on a less derogatory appellation – perhaps ‘Planetoid of Lesser Mass’ or some other such foolishness). No, I suppose your existence will continue on much the same as it always has. Frigid, dark nights followed by frigid, only slightly less dark days. At least you still have Charon there to commiserate with and to keep you company.

Oh, and the good news is that NASA’s ‘New Horizons’ spacecraft is still on its way for a visit. I should arrive in a little less than nine years, so be looking forward to that. Sadly, it won’t be able to stay long, but it’s the best thing we’ve got going, and given the latest news, I wouldn’t be expecting much more than that if I were you. At least not until we humans master the science of space flight at high velocities anyway, and then we’ll likely only stop long enough to put up a few billboards for the passing Kuiper Belt Cruise Lines ships to see. We’re kinda like that down here.

Perhaps it’s for the best, really. You are at least getting a lot of attention right now down here. Some folks say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, after all. Sadly, the furor and ruckus will all calm down after a brief time – at least by the time Tom Cruise or Paris Hilton do something newsworthy. Hmm, that reminds me – I haven’t checked CNN yet today, so it could already have happened for all I know.

Still, you’ll always be a planet to me.

[OK Neptune, move to the back of the line. Yeah, that's right. Move along now, move along...]

Trivia Moves Over

As of today, I am officially moving the weekly trivia contest over here to this site. I will update the standings and put them up in a table as soon as I have time to figure out just how to do it (in my copious free time - that's sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell).

So, here are the weekly questions. As always, please email your answers to bgoab (at) mindspring (dot) com and read the Rules if you haven't already.

1. What was the first James Bond:007 film to star Sean Connery?
2. I’m standing in a pool of water and yell “Marco!” What should you do?
3. If I go to a store and ask to buy a product in ‘HO Scale’, what am I likely buying?
4. C8H10N4O2 is the molecular formula for what popular substance?
5. What are the red properties in Monopoly (that is, name them)?

The 52 - Big Ed's Pizza

No post last evening. Sorry, but I ran completely out of time. I went to visit Elle (pronounced “L-E”, not “L”) again at the hospital and take her a book, followed by dinner at home and couch time with Mrs. Guy. The blog loses that contest.

But regardless, I am here tonight to report on the second installation of “The 52”. I am proud to present the following report on a local classic – Big Ed’s Pizza. Here goes my second ever restaurant review.

Nestled deep into the original heart and soul of downtown Oak Ridge, Tennessee – AKA the Secret City – is the famous Big Ed’s Pizza, and it deserves every bit of fame that it has garnered over the years. Big Ed himself was a legend in these quarters, though he has been dead now for several years. Ed Neusel was a former Marine who decided to open a simple pizza place, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Big Ed decided early on to employ mostly high school students, many of whom came to consider him a second father – maybe even the only father figure for a few of them. The story goes that Big Ed even took in to his own home some of those of less fortunate situations.

Big Ed was also a firm believer in supporting the local community at large, and local school sports in particular, and was by all accounts a very charitable man. But he had the look of a man you wouldn’t want to anger. I remember going to Big Ed’s back while he was still around, and his presence at the end of the counter in the back of the joint was palpable. But enough of the history, let’s talk about today.

Mrs. Guy and I arrived at Big Ed’s at around 6:45 pm and grabbed a table (no such thing as a hostess to seat you). All of the tables are similar in decoration, with a red and white checkerboard plastic tablecloth and a napkin dispenser (with the table numbers prominently painted on the sides), and small menu cards next to that. We grabbed a table with six chairs (most of the tables have six chairs – this is not an intimate escape) beneath the large picture of Big Ed in half shadows (it seemed appropriate). Looking around the walls, you can’t help but be astounded by the sheer amount of memorabilia that Big Ed collected and has displayed in the cavernous dining room. Jeff showed up soon after, so we went ahead and ordered drinks (Coke and Diet Coke all around) and our pizzas. Gabe was running a bit late, but managed to show up right as the pizzas were delivered to the table.

Mrs. Guy and I shared our usual pizza choice, a medium (12 inch) with pepperoni and green peppers. Jeff had ordered a large, half with mushrooms, black olives and onions for Gabe, and the other half with mushrooms, pepperoni, and green olives (at least I think I remember that’s what they had). All of the pizzas come with thin crusts, and a pizza cutter never touches them before you get them – they use scissors for that, cutting them into eight even slices. There’s usually a little extra grease collected up on the pepperoni, but I find that the napkin dispenser provides sufficient instruments of relief for that. One word of warning, though; the pizza comes to the table very hot. I frequently burn the roof of my mouth on the first bite, even though I know what’s coming. It’s just a tradition for me.

We settled easily into conversation, sometimes even having sidebar conversations with people at other tables. Big Ed’s is a very friendly place, after all. I find that pizza goes down best with good conversation in a comfortable surrounding. All of us were pleased with the food, as evidenced by the complete and utter lack of even pieces of crust at meal’s end.

You can have better food than what’s at Big Ed’s. You can eat in nicer surroundings than Big Ed’s. You can get better service (though our service was good tonight) at other places. So why go to Big Ed’s? It’s hard to define, but Big Ed’s is just the right place to go. It’s all about Big Ed’s Pizza being exactly what Big Ed’s Pizza should be. I can’t say it much better than that.

A few points of interest about Big Ed’s:
- The Neusel family still runs the place. I noticed Big Ed’s son there working tonight. But you can still feel Big Ed’s presence (especially if you sit under his picture, I guess).
- Your pizza comes with paper plates and plastic forks. The plates are the very small size (maybe five inches in diameter?). The forks are practically useless. All part of the charm.
- Big Ed’s is almost always boisterous (except on Friday nights after a high school football game if the Oak Ridge Wildcats lost – then it’s still packed, but a bit more somber). Tonight there were at least four large groups with tables pulled together.
- If you want dessert after your meal, you can always stop at the convenience mart down the street for a candy bar. That’s as it should be.
- We went to Seattle back in April of 2000. Mrs. Guy and I went to the fountain next to the Key Arena. We saw a young man wearing a Big Ed’s Pizza T-shirt. Distance from Big Ed’s to the Key Arena fountain? According to Google Earth, its 2,095.57 miles as the crow flies. About 2,600 miles by car.
- Our only complaint is the lack of a ‘No Smoking’ section, but you just have to be willing to get over that.

What the...(ZOOM!!!)

As I was driving home from work today I got into the usual afternoon commute traffic on the highways, byways, and interstate. Since my commute is 25 miles each way (though it was 30 miles this afternoon since I added a stop at the Post Office), I often get to see quite a cross section of drivers. Some are a little more passive than others, and some are a little more aggressive. I tend to fall, admittedly, somewhere in the middle. Most are pretty close to an acceptable norm.

Among all of the other drivers that participate with me in the afternoon vehicular ballet, there is usually one – though not always even one, but usually not more than two – who are really passionate about getting to their final destination (it’s up to you to judge how I meant that last part). They will dart and weave, they will pass at ludicrous speed (kudos if you name the reference), and they will dive through gaps that by most people’s estimations just don’t exist. This afternoon I saw three.

The first came flying up behind me on a curvy two-lane highway at a rate I’d guess was 20 miles per hour faster than the speed limit (which was 55 mph). They then attached themselves to my bumper even though I had a number of cars in front of me and couldn’t have gone faster even if I’d wanted to. They wasted no time passing me (with great emphasis) as I merged onto I-40, and then proceeded to disappear in and out of traffic at a dizzying pace.

The next flew by after passing another car that was in the left lane (I was in the right, a little ahead) and buzzed so tight to me that I’d swear I felt the breeze. They, too, disappeared in and out of merging traffic where I-40 and I-75 come together west of Knoxville. They were a bit less graceful than the first driver, and left a trail of braking cars in their heady wake.

The last to ‘impress’ me with their feats of derring-do came up on me as I was moving over into the far right lane near the Post Office exit. I had signaled my intent with my turn signal light. They signaled their intent with an aggressive dive around me to the right, which I fortunatley saw coming with my Jedi-like skill for predicting the traffic habits of people going 30 to 40 (I kid you not) miles per hour faster than the posted speed limit. As soon as they were (mostly) around me, they crossed back over three lanes to the left and proceeded on from there along the asphalt slalom course, whipping left, then right, then left, then…well, I took the exit, so I don’t know what happened after that.

Now, here’s the interesting part. All three of them had something in common (other than the obvious need for speed). They all had handicap plates on their cars. Plates, not hang tags on the rear-view mirrors. That tells me that whatever disability there is must be of a permanent or long-term nature. But in view of their driving style(s), it begs the question:

Is this how they got that way? (Or maybe it’s how they got their handicapped passenger that way?) Or are they perhaps suicidal, wishing to end their suffering in a blaze of glory, and they just don’t really care who they take with them?

Be careful out there folks. They, or other drivers of questionable methods, may be headed your way.

Planning Our Own Obsolescence

It’s getting harder and harder to do the right things in America, at least from a energy conservation point of view. Today I offer up a case in point. In part for my own health, and in part to help save gasoline, I have decided that I will start walking a lot more. Easy enough to do in my own neighborhood for simple exercise, but I have been trying to expand this idea into other facets of daily life, such as while out doing shopping errands and the like. That’s not so easy. I know people who will drive 200 yards from in front of Target to find a parking space in front of the Wal-Mart. I know a lot of people who do that.

With advent of the automobile came the beginnings of the Age of Convenience (another time I will expound on it’s devastating effect on the American waistline). Even so, it wasn’t until the 1980’s and 1990’s that I really noticed that things were shifting on a basic level (and even to some extent before that). You see, back in the day, they used to build these things called ‘sidewalks’. A type of person once referred to as a ‘pedestrian’ could use these sidewalks to ambulate from one locale to another. It was a pretty simple concept, really. Walking, I mean. Ever since the dawn of the Age of Man we’ve used our legs and feet for something other than manipulating pedals that alternately speed up or slow down motorized vehicles. At least we used to.

What I have seen happening is the tendency for developers of shopping outlets to streamline access for the largest common denominator - that is, cars – and ignore all other things that aren’t cars. It really hit home recently, though. A few months ago Mrs. Guy and I traveled by car to the closest shopping mall so I could look for jeans and she could buy whatever it was she was there to buy that I’ve already forgotten. We also needed to go to a bookstore in a shopping strip just across the road from the mall. We decided that it was a nice day and we were fully capable of doing so, so we set out to walk from JCPenney across Morrell Road to Borders Bookstore. Big mistake. On that side of the mall lot there are two inlet/outlet roads that cut down a slope from the parking lot to the road. They are amazingly busy (so we decided not to risk our lives by walking on them. There are no sidewalks. There also isn’t a way to walk across the grass down to the road level without likely twisting an ankle or worse on the drop-off. You can’t even walk along the side of the access roads due to the heavy amount of landscaping. Stymied. You can’t get there from here, at least not on foot.

Since that day I’ve paid special attention to new developments around town. Things are not improving. There’s a new large shopping development near my home. The developers were encouraged to include some amount of access for people without cars, and also to accommodate a planned Greenway Trail that may eventually run from west Knox County through downtown Knoxville and beyond. OK, they put in the greenway trail. I was happy about that, at least at first. The trail gave me a paved route to ride that avoids the now heavy traffic through the shopping area. Other people started using it too. It was very common on my rides through there to meet a half-dozen cyclists and at least as many walkers and joggers. Unfortunately, no one seems to want to maintain the trail. New construction backed right up to it from the start, along with the muddy run-off that builders are supposed to control (but don’t since enforcement is laughable). Sometimes the work crews will run heavy machinery across it, busting up the asphalt and creating large holes. But yesterday, oh yesterday, the honeymoon officially came to a rather abrupt end.

I rode my bike yesterday afternoon. It was a nice enough day, and I knew rain was forecast for today. I decided on a whim to go through the greenway trail area and loop around to the west for my ride. I got to the trail and started out, noting that nobody has mowed in the area in weeks, and that the playground area behind the natural foods grocery store was about overgrown. Keeping on, I noted that there were definitely some areas of paving that could stand patching, but nothing so bad I might disappear into and never be heard from again. And then I crested the top of the slope and…

…there was a fence across the trail. They are building a new Bass Pro Shop (like we needed another one), and the work crews have co-opted their entire parcel of land PLUS the ‘public’ parkland that the trail sits on. A rather large bulldozer was idling right in the middle of my intended path, but I couldn’t even get to him anyway due to the fence. I had to turn around, ride back about ¼ mile to the parking lot behind World Market, and go brave the raceway that is the road through the shopping district. The insult added to my injury came when a large dump truck pulled out from the Bass Pro Shop lot right in front of me and coated me and my bike (and waterbottles, and sunglasses, and lungs, and…) with a fine layer of dust. I looked like I’d just come from mountain biking on a dry day, not from a long road ride.

So tomorrow I will call the Knox County Engineer’s office, to see who – if anyone- gave them permission to block off and use public park space for commercial interests. And then I think I will discuss the local zoning ordinances with them vis-à-vis alternative transportation. Think I’ll get anywhere? Maybe. I did get them to re-time a set of traffic lights a few years ago.

Time to go be a squeaky wheel, I suppose.