March 9, 2012
A bike ride to the bank. About 5 miles round trip.

Wait for the coal train to pass. It's over one mile long.
Feeds the local power plant maybe a dozen times a day.

Looking to the left, away from the train.
Might as well enjoy the view while the train passes.

Riding through one of the neighborhoods.

Almost there. Got to get across this busy street.
This is where you have to pay attention to avoid getting hit.

Looking behind me where I just came from.

There's our destination, the bank.

Walking out of the bank. This is the shopping area parking.

We are about to head home. Go south, young man.

But first, we have to go west, towards the mountians. The route changes according to the wind.
I always try to remain up-wind from the car exhaust.

This is the prarie dog area. Strange, there are none visible. Usually, they are all over.
They stripped the land of vegetation. I wonder if they've been eradicated. All the building concentrated the prarie dogs here.

I always take the back roads and sidewalks. Everyone else drives. Hardly anyone else rides a bike here.

Crossing the main road again. When I moved here in 1986, it was a quiet lane bordered on both sides by huge trees.
It was completely shaded in the hot summertime. The left side was all horse pasture then. All changed.

Riding back through the neighborhoods. I'm looking back behind me here.

Here I am at the edge of the neighborhood. I used to jog back here when it was ranch land.
They are still building up on the hill. The playground is in the 100-year floodplain.
Stupidly, the most expensive neighborhood was built recently in that floodplain.

There's a bike path that follows the creek in the floodplain. It's practically my path. I can't recall ever having seen another bike on it.

These houses back up to the edge of the floodplain. On the other side of the creek are the up-scale wannabees whose homes will wash away when the next flash flood hits.

Self portrait. Unfortunately, I had to work the camera.

Now the bike path follows the irrigation ditch. There will be water in it again in a month or so.

Oh, nice. Some dufus decided to save himself some trash fees and dump his old carpet here. Money ruins everything.

One of the ranches hasn't sold out to the developers yet. The old rancher used to let me jog on the irrigation ditch road.
I haven't seen him for a long time. He was in poor health years ago. I wonder if he's still alive.

As we approach the bend, we can look down on the stables to our left (next picture).

The horses probably wish they were as free as I am, and I'm still working on the freedom thing myself.

End of the irrigation ditch road. Another small ranch dead ahead. Turn right and head up the hill.

The main road is at the stop sign. We'll be crossing it for the third time.

A couple more of the small, old-timer ranches across the street. We go right and then take the first left.

There's our left turn up ahead. How about those bike lanes! Like I would ever ride there. I'd be dead in a matter of months.
Whoever had that idea must be a frontal lobotomy survivor.

Heading up my street.

Almost home. Reckless teenagers and drunks are always missing this curve.
A couple of weeks ago, around midnight, a car full of teenagers slid up on the lawn right in front of that mail box, blowing out a rear tire when it hit the curb.

It's the next day, and I'm out checking the garage sales. I'm using a camera purchased for $5 last summer at a garage sale.
Today, I figured out the control buttons, including the self-timer, so here's that missing self portrait.