Once again, I forgot how to run this darn thing. It’s been nearly three months since I have touched this site, and it seems even longer. It has, however, been on my mind for the past several weeks. Kara was gently nudging me about my photography—or lack thereof—at dinner last night, and I am now terminating the summer vacation of Suburban Rambler. The incoherent babble that is about to follow is the best I can do to catch up.

I sold my membership in the flying club last month, and I am now among the ground-based population. It was nine years ago this summer that I started flying, and it feels odd to not have it in my weekly schedule, even though my air time had dropped so much in the past few years. I miss it, and I am certain that I will be back in the air at some future date. I just needed a break.

My interest in things with two wheels continue. I fired up the bike in mid-March, and most of my ground travel has been by that method since then. I ride to work almost every day, and I even run my weekend errands by motorcycle since getting the fancy German touring machine in June . It’s got big, lockable side bags which allow me to carry a fantastic cache of stuff. I had put two thousand miles on the Buell from March to June 19, and I’ve put an additional two thousand miles on the BMW since then.

360 of those miles were logged on Friday of last week. On Thursday afternoon I just decided that I really needed a day of solitude, so I rode to Duluth and back. It was spectacular. After 2 solid months of 90 degree heat, it was a refreshing change to ride in 75 degree air. My route north took me up highway 47, and then up 23 all the way to Duluth. The scenery of highway 23 was really wonderful. It passes through two state parks and is mostly wooded. I had podcasts in my ear for the entire trip. Garrison Keillor, Tom and Ray Magliozzi, Terry Gross, the cast of Slate, and a lovely, two-lane road. Doesn’t get any better than that. I arrived home at 5:45, fully de-stressed and relaxed.

Kara, on the other had, was less so. An almost-three-year-old boy can really wear out a forty-something parent, so I took the day shift for most of Saturday. Every day is a carnival ride. We love it, but there are a lot of ups and downs, and it’s exhausting. It’s hard to believe that he’ll be three years old in just a few weeks.