Getting back on the train. Was visiting my sister in Redneckistan. The train is cool 'cuz you get to see the forgotten hearts of all these little communities and observe what they were before the freeways came. Carlsbad? Oceanside? San Juan Capistrano? I get it. The train is bad because you see solid graffiti for about 45 minutes out of LA. At the Anaheim station there was a topless woman studiously brushing the dirt clean with a palm frond. The bike has about 250 miles on it. Broke the pedals clean off. Have everything dialed. Toying with buying bondage shoes. It is eerie how comfortable my incredibly uncomfortable-looking saddle is becoming. A decade and a half ago I resolved that my chair would conform to my ass, not the other way 'round and I hope that my posterior prevails.