The Birth of Brad Blog

I thought this might be a good way to stay in touch with family and friends with which I have not remained in such close touch...so I did it. As well, I'm constantly finding things within the realm of popular culture that beg comment beyond that which I find in the mass media or my everyday conversations among the general populace.

As a perfect example, my buddy Dave and I recently went for a tremendous ride at Manchester State Forest, here in our great state of SC. We popped in on the infamous Exit 98 Smith's Chevron for some boiled peanuts (the best to be found on I-95, if not in the entire region...I'm somewhat of a boiled peanut expert) and, by the time we exited the car, the rain yielded to a wash of solar pleasantry. We rode every marked trail, including the ones that had fallen to the motorized version of two-wheeled transport (like riding through mortar, it was), and finished up by dropping a check in the iron ranger for the required permits. The next day, I got a call from a non-iron ranger at the adjacent Poinsett State Park (where we had made the drop). He proceeded to speak to me as if I were a disobedient child and tell me how I could, "...get in a lot of trouble if they caught you riding out there without a permit." Nevermind that we checked the office for staff at 12:12pm and found nobody. Nevermind that the park only has office hours from 11am-12pm. Nevermind that he could have just forwarded the check to the Forestry Commission and had a pass generated and sent to me, as per my request on the accompanying note. Nevermind that the only park vehicle we saw went sailing by at about 40mph, preventing me from hailing him on such a winding road. And, nevermind that I was trying to do the right, legal thing, as I'm well aware of the dire condition of state budgets. He was more interested in flexing a little misguided muscle, I suppose. I told him I was well aware of the consequences, which was why we made the effort to indicate who we were and what we were doing there.

Anyway, the ride was dead on, regardless of the consequent interference. The trails there are loads of fun...just avoid the "Hardcore" section, as it has been rutted up nicely by motorcycles and contains enough sand to make the ride feel like a spinning class...pedaling like hell, but going nowhere.

I found a frame painter in GA, today. I'm considering sending my Surly touring frame for some refinishing, since the estimate on average jobs runs from $200-$400 or so, and I've got loads of rust pebbling the frame, already...it can't be more than 3 years old. I might go with another color, so here's a photo of the "The Army Brat," before her makeover (if image didn't make it to this post, I'll figure it out and get it up on the next one).