To all my loyal--and disloyal--blog-heads out there, my most sincere, humble and apocalyptic apology for being so negligent on this blog. A number of petty assignments and sundry bullwhack have kept me hoppin' 'round lately like a toad under a movin' harrow. With some luck and a bit of geographic stability we should be good to go for at least another hour or so. I won't promise to be more punctual, but I promise to try.
Since reaching the environs of this most historic of historic places, your blogologist has noticed with surprise that there is an incredible number of cyclists in Hays. Indeed, I have seen more bikers here, per capita, than anywhere else in the States. Most, like myself, just prefer a quiet, healthy way to get around. That seems clear. As for the others? Since you see "the others" even in cold weather pedaling around, bundled, smoking a cig, I don't think the bike has anything to do with being eco-friendly in their case. Don't forget: This is German America out here.
Talking with a Hays chap last night (another biker, of course), I mentioned the super high incidence of cyclists in town. A wry smile came to the man's lips, a twinkle in his green eye. He said he personally knew one drunken farm fellow, a bit down on his luck after his hundredth DUI, who was warned by the cops that he would be jugged the moment he tried to drive his truck again on the streets of Hays. So, next time he gets a suds seizure, this ingenious imbiber fires up his tractor and chugs into town. The cops were waiting, of course, and promptly caught and caged the man, but not for driving the tractor; it was verboten for the drunk to drive ANYTHING on the streets. Worthless/desperate sot that he may have been, stupid he was not. So, the next time this gent gets a hankerin' for hops, he drives his tractor to town on the railroad tracks, then parks back behind the Horseshoe Inn. Problem solved.
Pistol of the Day