Father of Mine

I broke a temple off my riding glasses. My dad was eager to repair it. A normal person would just have epoxied the broken pieces back together. Not my dad. He drilled a small hole in the center of the broken ends then inserted and glued a thin metal pin. He explained that the length of the pin needed to be twice the circumference of the temple. I think this rule applies more to repairing something like, say, the Hoover Dam but my dad is an Engineer's Engineer. I am a hack.

Everything my dad repairs is like that. He bolted a metal plate on the door to prevent someone from getting to the deadbolt, which is fine. But then he did something I think only he would do; he painted the section that covers the door to match the door, the section that covers the wall to match the wall, and he painted a line down the center to match the gap between the door and the wall. I wish I had his work ethic.

Anyway, another perfect day of riding. Warm and low humidity. There was a slight breeze that seemed to change so I always had a tail wind. My parents live a short bike ride from the Ocean. I rode along the cost for 5 hours today, occasionally stopping at a Starbucks for an Ice Latte and slice of pumpkin bread. A Navy pilot on a carbon fiber BMC caught up and asked to ride with me. We rode together for about 20 miles and talked about bicycles and bike racing and his time in the Middle East. I don't think I could have scripted a better vacation.

No, I take back what I said about wanting my dad's work ethic. That would be a heavy cross to bare.