I'm sure he would object to me posting this

But I'm so excited that my dad made his goal for the year: 3000 miles on his bike (with 6 days to spare!).

I think it is crucial to understand that my dad is not one of those bespandexed geeks with the schmancy bike you see pumping down the side of the road. Not that there's anything wrong with bespandexed geeks, just that 3000 miles riding canals and running errands on a clunky "comfort cycle" is different than 3000 miles racing around Mummy Mountain on an Italian road bike. (Though either way -- it's a lot of miles.)

I understand his goal is to increase to 3600 miles next year. (I just published that on the Internet, Dad, so I guess you're beholden to it now!) Chris and I look forward to racking up at least a fraction of that total with him on weekend rides.

Anyway, sorry, Dad, for embarrassing you like this. Consider it payback for all the bragging you've done about me for 25 years. I'll see you and Clyde on Sunday!

I just drank the best beer I have ever had

Saint Bernardus Abt 12. Oh my gosh. I didn't know I could enjoy a beer as much as I enjoyed that one. It was almost worth the 9 bucks I paid (for a single glass!). Oh my gosh. What a beer.

A Hardy Smash

Well, it finally happened. After biking around the Tempe for three years, I was hit by a car.

Well, technically, a car was hit by me. I was pedaling south in the bike lane along Hardy Drive (at night, but with my lights on) when a car pulled out of a parking lot in front of me. I braked, but not enough to avoid smashing into the car's front quarterpanel.

Fortunately for me (and the driver, I suppose), it was just about as minor a car-bike interaction as you could hope for. I smashed my finger and scraped up my thigh, but nothing worse than I've done to myself with my bicycle (e.g., the time I threw myself over the handlebars and then dragged my carcass to a bank, where I passed out -- mere hours before a chem exam, too!)

The driver, to her credit, was very apologetic. In Tempe, the chances of getting run over by a sympathetic person are roughly equal to the chances of getting hit by a member of the drive-a-truck-or-die faction (motto: "get out of the f*ckin' road!") She wanted to make sure I was OK. (I was.) She wanted to make sure my bike was OK. (It was.) She wanted to know what she could do for me.

"Just look out for cyclists in the future, OK?"

The incident is also a reminder to me to be more vigilant when riding.

I'm glad I'm OK. I'm grateful that it wasn't more serious. If I'm upset about anything, it's that the accident hadn't happened a half mile sooner -- then I could've titled this post "A Broadway Hit." In the scheme of things, not a great loss.

Fall back, fall behind

While the rest of the country revels in the discrepancy between their body clocks and the official time, here in the land where daylight is not saved, we do nothing but flip the calendar at our desks and say, "crap, it's November. Crap, it's November. Crap, it's November."

Long ride

Today my dad, Chris, and I went for a long bike ride from my parent's home in Gilbert through the agricultural town of Queen Creek and up to the San Tan mountains. It was great. I'm exhausted. I can't wait for next weekend's biking excursion.

Oh my gosh, I forgot about trick-or-treaters!

I am so dumb. I totally forgot that adorable children would be turning up at my door asking for candy tonight. I had to turn them away because I didn't have any. Lame!

Now I am skulking around in the dark so they won't know I am home.

It's a meteorological term

Canada farted, shooting a pocket of frosty cold air across the southwest. Although I resent the departure from balmy, 80-degree days, the crisp air makes it feel a bit more like fall in the northeast. Walking across campus reminded me of Fridays in college, so impregnated with potential. What will the weekend hold?

Hopefully my weekend will contain, among other things, a good spat of proposal-writing. Today I managed to lasso a sentence around the amorphous idea I've been chasing for three days, so my goal for the weekend is to rewrite my Specific Aims section around that new idea. Chris is working tomorrow night, which should give me a good chunk of time to get that done.

I better leave now if I want to get home before the sun goes down. Chris says there will be pumpkin spice cookies there for me. Later, gators.

[Apologies for the sophomoric intro. Sometimes I can't help myself.]