At the county fair

I’ll remember next time I have the spur-of-the-moment idea of biking to the fairgrounds that it is substantially farther than I estimated yesterday morning. Except for a nervous half mile on highway 89, it’s a nice ride, mostly on Forest Service back roads and even a little singletrack, and by the time you reach the fairgrounds you’ll have earned the funnel cake—and the traffic control guys will congratulate you on avoiding the press of SUVs lining up to pay $3 a pop for parking.


The fair was a pretty good event, and yesterday was a gorgeous day to check it out. Walking past the sheep show building, I was of course reminded of Jeremy. Most of the displays were pretty standard stuff though I noted the fancy Scientology tent staffed by volunteers standing by to offer free stress tests. I had a feeling that everybody scores high on the scale. (Saw a couple of the volunteers also chatting up the young ladies at the airbrush tattoo booth.) I managed to not get hustled by the carney folk into playing ring toss and checked out the model train exhibit, instead.

On the way home I thought we’d try an alternative route back to the house, which turned out to be a bad idea: That hill that’s great fun to bomb down is mercilessly steep to climb and far too cobbly to keep up any speed. The result: A long push uphill in the afternoon sun. For my trouble I got a nice long rest in the back yard, so all in all it turned out to be a fine adventure.