From the last note you may recall that I appear to have a little problem with remembering to pay attention to detail. Since the bike wreck was over 6 months ago and the doctors said I would be back to normal in 3 to 6 months, these difficulties must be the signs of old age.

I rode my bike to Middleville for the last time today before I start my training program for IM Moo on Monday the 29th. The wind was blowing about 8 mph directly into my face on the way back. I was only going around 15 mph but the wind would feel like 23 mph if I were just standing there. That’s my take on the story problem in Physics 101. The true rocket scientist would factor in the rotation of the earth and the movement of the earth in relation to the sun and come up with some other number; close but not exactly 23 mph.

I know that women don’t spit at any time (except at the dentist’s office) or let loose of “snot rockets” when their noses run but men know what I’m talking about. I should have remembered Jim Croce’s advice “…don’t spit into the wind…” but I thought of it too late. Since I am out of shape my mouth was open sucking air and an early Spring insect flew in. Without thinking I turned my head slightly and spit as all good bikers would. A second later I looked and I had spit and a wet bug running down the sleeve of my coat (coat is nice and yellow so the person that hit me couldn’t say “I never saw him coming”). A tad bit on the disgusting side but another lesson learned. When spitting into the wind, turn your head as far as it will go and spit with as much force as possible (if riding in a group, swallow the bug).

I should mention that the condo in Florida may be sold. I have accepted an offer (didn’t have any since the listing, then two for the same amount on the same day) but, as we all know, the sale isn’t a sale until the money is in hand. Those who thought about visiting me but put it off ’til next year can do that but it probably won’t be on the beach in Venice. Maybe Jean and I will sell this house, get a fifth wheel, and go to a trailer park instead. We’ll use the bed but guests will have the treat of curling up around the fold-out kitchen table/ironing board/card table/diaper changing station.

Tough luck!

Just (learning how to live all over again) Jack

P.S. – A friend, Stephanie Fekkes, was appointed Probate Judge by Governor Granholm to fill the vacancy caused by the retirement of another friend, Dick Shaw. I was invited to a robing ceremony/investiture yesterday afternoon at 4 in the circuit courtroom. I thought it was a disrobing ceremony and, although I was happy for Stephanie, I was also a bit disappointed.