Tom
07-23-2004, 05:50 AM
So my wife and I decide to walk over, eat a plate of spaghetti and maybe drink a couple of glasses of wine out on Scotti's porch and then walk back over to the park to see John Gros' funk combo Papa Grows Funk at a free show. (Thank you Mona Golub! June Yamaguchi was smokin'. Great, great show. I can't believe how few people show up to these. The music they bring in... later on this year, for example, Los Lobos is going to be in Albany as part of this series. Free.)
Anyway, on to the point. As we walk down a leafy side street, we see a couple guys on mountain bikes circling around at the other end. From a distance one has the distinctive profile of a guy I've ridden with in a small local racing club's rides. He's a bike cop, a one man freight train. He's our local Eki. Thirty mile an hour pacelines on the flat. I can climb faster then him, but descending? Yikes. Imagine a cannon ball with handling skills.
Sorry, I digress again. As we get closer I realize it is him and it appears he's working with a trainee. I was just about to call out a greeting and tease him about making sure that these 100 feet of the block are crime free when around the corner whizzed a small car that nearly ran the two of them over. The driver was, yes you guessed it, on the phone. When we walked by, that driver was being tag teamed by two large and angry policemen. The driver probably shouldn't have started by trying to make a joke about it. In the music context, it put me in mind of the blues song that goes "I'm going to get me a ticket as long as my right arm..."
It was delicious.
Anyway, on to the point. As we walk down a leafy side street, we see a couple guys on mountain bikes circling around at the other end. From a distance one has the distinctive profile of a guy I've ridden with in a small local racing club's rides. He's a bike cop, a one man freight train. He's our local Eki. Thirty mile an hour pacelines on the flat. I can climb faster then him, but descending? Yikes. Imagine a cannon ball with handling skills.
Sorry, I digress again. As we get closer I realize it is him and it appears he's working with a trainee. I was just about to call out a greeting and tease him about making sure that these 100 feet of the block are crime free when around the corner whizzed a small car that nearly ran the two of them over. The driver was, yes you guessed it, on the phone. When we walked by, that driver was being tag teamed by two large and angry policemen. The driver probably shouldn't have started by trying to make a joke about it. In the music context, it put me in mind of the blues song that goes "I'm going to get me a ticket as long as my right arm..."
It was delicious.