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Wonderings about wanderings.

The brisk north wind gusts through the Valley after a rainy day from an ominously predicted front that, beside a couple of good blasts, could have been steadier. The temperature is hoisting itself toward centigrade double digits. What could be a spring thaw in North Platte means bundle up time in North Hollywood, whose eponymous branch in a fitness chain is my destination.

I am on the bicycle, generally avoiding riding it to indoor cycling classes as a matter of, well, you know. Blue Bossa is in the shop getting a nagging problem fixed, and I am in something of a hurry, as between the defective bikes at this location and a possible good turnout it's better to arrive somewhat early.

So on the way there I mimic the car route: major streets past a world of strip centers, gas stations, condos and apartments. Look out for those cars turning and out of driveways. But going home? Time to be creative in the bicycle's more maneuverable mode, stair stepping along smaller streets. The trees high and low do their "hula" to the wind I'm going into but the closer-in homes provide a break.

What is the psychology of following the auto's dogma when time is something of an essence and then doing a more spontaneous pick and choose back to the pad?

Anyway, one of the days that keeps this retiree fit and dinner tasting good.

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