No Bullshit Here, Amigos

I recently learned the Spanish word for “without” which is “sin”

So when Boss and I were riding near his place, we passed the above gate house, and I said, “I know that sin means without, but what does vacas mean?” Boss said, “Cows.” And I was like, “Without cows?” and Boss said for him it always meant, “No Bull Shit To Step In.”

If you are wealthy enough to live in said gated-community, you can be assured that cattle are not grazing in the neighborhood and leaving cowpies in your driveway…

My friends from Mexico that work at the San tell me that in some places in Tucson, the long Spanish names that sound like music when you say it (if you can even say it) or look astute in print or on signs, actually mean quite mundane things.

Some pretty home, in a development, on a well kept street that curves into the foothills might be on a street with a name like, “throw dishwater into the ditch.”

On the South-side of Tucson where all the Mexicans live, the street names are all Anglo—like 23rd Street, or 37th Pl. But you ask them to translate the Spanish into English for the street names where the wealthy white folks live and the streets have names like, “Pedro Needs a Shave.” or “Amigo—Where’s My Horse?”

Sun coming up over a sleepy Mt. Lemmon as I make may out on the road.

Jersey of the American Randonneur--C'est moi!

Heading East on Moore Rd, early in the morning air.

Me and the Boss...

As I rode out to meet Boss Man, I hooked up with a few groups of riders going up Oracle Rd. After leaving a slow group and moving up ahead (people just started out and talking, etc) I ran over a roofing nail, and with a "BLAM" I was stopped dead in my tracks. People offered to help but I had everything I needed--and I sent Alan a quick text where I was. Just as I finished up changing out the blown tube and putting on the back wheel, the Boss rolled up and we were on our way.

Wind picks up for our return back to Tucson.

Everything is green because of monsoon rains recently, and Alan and I had a set a quick pace for ourselves for our climb up to Oracle Junction--but a strong head wind came up so we had a bit of a slog for the way back.

A beautiful summer morning in Tucson, Arizona.

The Catalina Mtn Range as a thin vail of green from the rains. As I'm thinking I'll have a tailwind home back to Dog Mtn, I ride with Boss to his place where I get some water. Taking off back for home, about 30 miles, the wind changes and there's a tough head-wind for me. Not really what I was expecting on my day to rest and sleep in after a week of commuting to work.

Oro Valley and almost home.

I actually did get a bit of break on the way home and had a rare tail-wind through Oro Valley and that big climb out. For the rest of the way home, I pushed myself and soon was flying West on Moore Rd.

While moving along, two women on what looked like triathlete set-up bikes saw me coming up from behind them, and as I flew past they sprinted and jumped on my wheel. We made good time and they thanked me for an awesome draft they said. I was pretty tired when I got home--ate a bite, then slept a few hours...

Cheers! Bruce