Monday, March 18, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Over many years, I have driven the van occasionally. Tonight, the beautiful Mrs K needed to have the van taken to a co-worker who will then drive it to the Tour of St.Louis time trial in the morning. I flat out refused to let her drive the van, knowing that the unsuspecting Mrs K wouldn't be...prepared...for the treat that is the Big Shark van.
As the van lurched and wheezed it's way up Skinker, I marveled at the sheer decay that has beset this van. The seats have foam and fabric still attached, but in such a way that they look to be molting. The steering wheel in it's complete malaise, has no real association with the front tires. The cacophony of noise that accompanies EVERY SINGLE MOVEMENT of the van is deafening at times. Benny Hill (and perhaps even the Three Stooges) could have an entire skit built around the noises alone. And the brakes? The right pedal has had the dubious distinction of being called "brake pedal" for a decade, yet now it is the single mechanical connection that works perfectly, ABS be damned. Yes!!
Through all of this, it is necessary to know that if you attended bike races in the St. Louis area over the last 10 years, this vehicle delivered the hardware to put on those races. Stuffed (literally) in the back of this thing are banners, cones, tents, tarps, zip-ties, tables, chairs, pens, consent forms, race bells, race numbers, bull horns, police tape, snow fencing...I can't even name it all. If you attend a St. Louis area race, ride or event that is remotely associated with biking, the overwhelming chances are that this vehicle had something to do with the set-up.
Those who drive it always have a comedic story afterward. But each one of those 208,000 miles has a story, too...stories from all of the racers and riders that have benefited from this old work horse and the job that it does.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Why all the pounding? "To make it more tender", my mom would say. My mom would say this because good ol' George would just look at me and half-way grin and go back to the all-day process of making the stuff. Such a pity when we could have just had hamburgers, I thought.
By the time I was a teenager, I really loved the stuff. Dad didn't always make it anymore, as he was slowing down a lot. But my mom was learning to cook a lot of the things that Dad used to cook, and she was getting better at it. (A side note: my mom was not what I called a good cook. She would admit it, too. But after my dad stopped cooking, she actually became much better. Until, of course, she stopped putting in key ingredients that she thought were unhealthy, which is a completely different story.) I really looked forward to Stroganoff as I aged.
Fast forward to now. Sure, you can get the stuff when you dine out...sometimes. And I think Noodles has it on the menu. Not quite the same as home made, though. Now my lovely wife makes it. Not often, mind you, but it is awesome. We had it for dinner tonight and I am engorged.
I never thought I would like Beef Stroganoff. Or meat loaf. Or Mom's stuffed peppers. Oh, wait...I still hate those. Sorry, Mom.