Texas Trip Report #3

After a few hard days of riding we decided that we needed a rest day. Rest for cyclists means a bit of easy spinning to keep the legs fresh, but no hard efforts. We all grinned as we talked about this rest day but I do believe that our intentions were pure. Even if the outcome wasn't.

It was also Scott's birthday so a trip to San Antonio to meet up with some of his friends for dinner was also on the agenda. As was more of Scott's favorite food; tacos. First, the ride;

We enjoyed Center Point Road so much that we decided to ride it from Fredericksburg down to Comfort and back. As you'll note if you read the last post, there is an awful lot of climbing on this road. Something that you might try to avoid on a true rest day. Nevertheless, we rolled out of the RV park under heavy skies with expectations of another great ride.

Barry and Scott resting at 24 mph

Since the cattle are free roaming in these parts you always need to be mindful as you speed around the bends. The last thing you need is a collision with a 2,000 pound bull. To keep at least a little control of the beasts the local cowboys put cattle guards on the road every few miles or so to prevent the cattle from one farmer's herd from mingling with cattle from another. These cattle guards are placed across the road and are made up of either steel pipes or old railroad tracks and they're spaced every... Oh, it'll be easier if I just show you. Here, this is The Boss crossing one of the cattle guards;

It may stop cattle, but not The Boss

These guards are tricky to pass safely on the best days and when they get wet they are down right treacherous. Especially as many of them can be found at the bottom of the steepest hills, just as your speed peaks.

Speaking of peaks, we had to climb Center Point Ledge from both directions on today's ride. Look at this profile to see just how gnarly today's route was;

Scott cresting Center Point Ledge

Since any realistic thoughts about an easy ride quickly vanished we decided to take the opportunity to really fly on the long downhill into town. A slight downhill, a slight tailwind and three frisky riders add up to a really terrific time on the bike. The miles just flew by as we zoomed through the beautiful Texas countryside. Rides like this are what makes cycling trips worthwhile. Really, it was fantastic.

No, Barry didn't overdo the BBQ, that's a rain jacket stuffed in his shirt




Another fast and fantastic run into town

After cleaning up we stopped in at a local cafe for some coffee. Check out the selection;

Bubba's Brew is obviously a local favorite

Then we drove into San Antonio. Before meeting up with Scott's friends we strolled around the Alamo. It's a fairly small structure that now sits slap bang in the middle of downtown San Antonio. Nothing about is suggests the wild, wild west. If Davey Crockett were alive today he'd be rolling over in his grave at the crass commercialization. Poor fella never even heard of Starbucks, wax museums or tour guides. Not to mention Walt Disney.

In search of the Alamo basement and Pee Wee's bike



Stunned that there is not a basement at the Alamo

After soaking in all that is the Alamo we met up with Scott's friends and took a stroll along San Antonio's fabulous Riverwalk. The Riverwalk is reminiscent of Venice with it's walkways along the river, the foot bridges overhead and the tour boats gliding noiselessly along the water.

Venice? No, San Antonio.

Restaurants and shops lined the walkways and with such a large selection from which to choose a place for dining it would be a challenge. Especially since many of the establishments had lovely ladies out front hawking the special de jour.

Since it was Scott's birthday we insisted that he choose the dining spot. Believe it or not, he passed up this classy place, with it's come hither staff;

Hey there, Birthday Boy!

He instead choose a more traditional place that specialized in Texas steaks. We settled into our outdoor patio seats just as the sun went down and the lights along the Riverwalk went up. Good friends, good food and an evening just as pretty as you please. All of this tossed in with the Alamo and a great day of cycling and I do believe that Scott had a pretty special birthday. Many more, Scott!

Texas Trip Report #2

We turned in last night with bellies full of tacos so we planned an early ride to work them off. Or more accurately, The Boss rousted us up and told us to get on the bikes.

Saturday dawned warm and windy. There were a few breaks in the clouds but not enough to warrant slathering on any sunscreen. We had hoped for sunshine but in reality the riding is so hard down here that the cloud cover helps keep us from dehydrating. Unlike the midwest, with it's entire road system set up on a grid of one mile by one mile squares with a town every 5 miles or so, these Hill Country roads wind from the center of nowhere to the middle of nowhere with nary a town to speak of. We've yet to ride by a convenience store or other establishment where we could fill our water bottles.

The Boss and the bikes at the hitching posts. Ready to saddle up.

We again headed out southeast into the wind and soon found ourselves climbing category 2 Col de San Antonio, Category 3 Piedmont de San Antonio and once again, the fearsome Beyond Category (HC) Bat Cave Summit. That's a lot of climbing in the first seventeen miles of the ride. Especially for guys from the flatish midwest. The ride is a beautiful mix of open, cattle grazing land full of scrub brush and cedar along creek-beds in the low areas, and almost alpine-like heavily wooded areas at the top of the climbs. Herds of domesticated goats, sheep and cattle dot the countryside as do wild deer that we've seed in herds larger than thirty, racing alongside us in open fields.

The base of every climb seems to have a beautiful, tranquil creek or river running lazily along, in contradiction to the pain that awaits just beyond.

Horses grazing alongside a tranquil river near Waring, Texas

After a fast decent down Bat Cave Summit we decided to head off-route for a few more miles of climbing. This took us to the outskirts of Luckenbach. Yes, the town from the Willie Nelson - Waylan Jennings song. The town isn't much more than a crossroad with a general store that also serves as a bar and a music hall. But we hear that if you come here on week-ends you'll be able to enjoy a beverage as you listen to music performed by anyone from local talent to world renowned artists. There are no signs directing you to Luckenbach. The tourists steal them. Elvis thinks it's in your karma; if you're meant to find Luckenbach, you'll find it.

No fan of country music, Scott rolls by Luckenbach, Texas

A few times on today's ride we were lost. Well, not lost exactly (Men never get lost, right?), just not quite sure where we were. Between Barry's pocketful of maps and Scott's GPS equipped cell phone we eventually found our way back on route. The rolling and twisting roads have a way of confusing your internal compass. And with no sunshine or shadows we often found ourselves with no real clues as to which direction we were riding. The road junctions were few and far between and the marked ones rarer still. But since we're here for the riding we just kept spinning along knowing hoping that eventually we'd figure out where we were.

About two hours after starting out and low on food and water, we stumbled upon aptly named Comfort, Texas. Here we were able to re-fill our stores and get a pair of contradictory directions out of town. Maps and GPS devices were of little help so we wet our index fingers, stuck them up into the wind and headed west out of town. A little bit of; this turn looked right and that turn felt right got us on to a road that would wind and climb it's way, eventually, back to Fredericksburg.

This particular road, Center Point Road, may be the finest road that Elvis has ever ridden. It winds, twists and turns alongside a beautiful river for thirty glorious miles. Stately oak trees dot the open grazing land filled with free roaming cattle. Piney peaks and rocky canyons mark the climbs and descents. We met one car in the entire thirty mile stretch and the cowboy driver pulled off the road to let us pass. The center piece of Center Point Road is an intimidating stretch of steeply angled road that climbs 450 feet in less than two miles. This giant nub is known as Center Point Ledge and it is heart busting on the way up and heart racing on the way down. Exhilarating!

The Boss powering over Center Point Ledge

After the leg breaking climb, the road drops almost steadily downwards for the remaining fifteen miles into Fredericksburg. There were only a few remaining steep uphill sections there to remind you that you were still in Texas Hill Country. Riding in a compact pace-line the speeds went way up and the heart rates went way down. There is no better way to end a hard day of cycling than by enjoying a long, fast run in.

Here is a profile of today's route. We did this route in reverse, so read it right to left. We also added about twenty miles and a thousand feet of climbing by doing a few "off the map" loops.

The run into town

As we came into town we were overwhelmed by the wonderful scent of Texas beef curing in a smokehouse. We had ridden right by a restaurant called Peach Pit Barbecue and as soon as we agreed to head there for dinner we found ourselves racing back to the hotel. The sooner we were showered and changed the sooner we would be enjoying some Texas BBQ.

A hard day in the saddle is rewarded

Texas Trip Report #1

4:12 AM - The alarm goes off. I crawl out of bed, scrape a razor across my face and take a quick shower. Got to get to Barry's by 4:50. With Barry in the car we speed down to the airport for our 6:30 AM flight to San Antonio. We rush through parking, get our luggage tags and hustle to the gate only to find that our flight has been delayed. We meet up with Scott and head to Starbucks and then mill around waiting for an update on our flight. 40 minutes later than expected they make the announcement for pre-boarding. I know it's early but this gets Elvis thinking; can you really pre-board? It seems that you're either on the plane or you're not. Anyway, the plane takes off at last and after a quick stop in stormy Kansas City (Missouri, not Kansas) we finally get to Texas.

Scott used to live in San Antonio so he directs us to a great place for barbecue sandwiches. After that we head to our home base in Fredericksburg (about an hour northwest of San Antonio). Home for the week is a dumpy place called the Frontier Inn and RV Park. Note to self; treat with suspicion any boarding establishment that has the term "RV" prominent in their name. Barry says it's just the kind of place the pros frequented back in the day. Elvis says, "It's 2007 and I'm not a pro", but Barry ignores the comment. So we unload our gear, collect our bike boxes (which we shipped to the hotel earlier in the week) and begin assembly.

The wind is blowing at 20mph and it's raining. Weather notwithstanding we agree to head out for an easy shakedown cruise. One mile later Scott has a flat tire. Forty miles after that he'll have another one.

First of two flats for Scott on ride number one

There appear to be no easy routes anywhere near Fredricksburg. The town is located in a valley and every route out of town goes up. And up, and up and up. Toss the hills in with the wind, the rain and aggressive riders and easy is no where to be found. Yes, it was only 43 sloppy miles, but every mile was tough. After an early morning we made it an early night.

The town of Fredericksburg calls itself a town of beauty and charm. True enough if you like kitschy shopping. The town was founded by German immigrants 150 years ago and for whatever reason downtown still remains full of places called Rathskeller, Biergarten and Der Lindenbaum. This lends itself to week-ends full of pudgy tourists mindlessly milling around. And this gives rise to lots of yuppie coffee shops, art galleries and souvenir stores. To give you an idea of the amount of traffic in and around Fredericksburg I'll simply point out that it is the most popular tourist destination in Texas, and the 11th most popular tourist destination in the United States.

You'll also find here, 1,000 miles away from the Pacific Ocean, the National Museum of the Pacific War. Why? Because Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz of WWII fame was born in Fredricksburg. Fair enough.


Day two dawned just like day one; windy and drizzly. The hills were still here too. Not to be deterred, off we went first thing in the morning for a planned 75 miler. We decided to head into the wind on the outbound leg so that we'd get a bit of a break at the end of the ride. In some stretches where the hilltops were completely exposed to the wind the conditions were atrocious. Even the down-hills were difficult due to the swirling winds. There is not much traffic outside of town but every vehicle that we met (white, 4-door pick-up with huge brush bars on front and towing one or two trailers), we seemed to meet at one of the many one-lane bridges that are found at the bottom of the steepest hills. Maintaining control of your bike while squeezing the brakes and skidding on wet pavement at 30 mph rolling headlong into a huge pickup truck makes for some real excitement. With the exception of one good ol' boy who rolled down his window to yell the following suggestion, "Why don't y'all boys go to Austin and ride on f'ing I-35", most drivers seemed courteous enough.

At about 25 miles Barry's drive-train started acting up and upon a quick inspection it was discovered that one of the links on his chain was coming apart. We decided to head back to town but only made a few miles before the chain broke. Thanks to a handy little tool that Scott had along and an ingenious repair by Barry, we were soon back on the road.

Chain of Fools

The roads here are the kind that can leave your hands, butt and teeth numb. The lack of cold winters means that they can press gravel into the tar and leave it at that. All of the gravel is raised slightly above the tar and the result is a constant road buzz transmitted through the bike and into your body. Did I mention that it's hilly? On today's route we went over a climb called Bat Cave Summit, three times. This is rated by CycleTexas as "Beyond Category", meaning that it's off the scale for rating climbs. Here is it's official description, "One of the harder climbs in the Fredericksburg vicinity. Steepness exceeds length here, but that makes the length long enough for most". Indeed.

At one of the mountaintops there was a small look-out platform. So we stopped to take pictures (OK, for a breather).

Nowhere to go but down

Every mile or so there was an animal carcass either in the ditch or even right on the road. On top of the carcass would be a dozen vultures picking away at it. Some of the deceased we could identify; deer, armadillos, cats, opossum. And some we couldn't. What do you suppose this once was (see photo, below)?

A lot of four-letter words come to mind. 'Dead' works best.

Back at the hotel we cleaned up and then headed into town for lunch and a stop at the local bike shop for repair materiel.

By mid-afternoon we were ready for another ride so that we could get our miles in. Saddled up we once again agreed to take it easy. The wind and hills were staring us down and easy went out the window. The rain had stopped so we finally had an opportunity to get some action shots.

Don't let the smile fool you



Is Barry pushing or is Scott pulling?

I wish I could show you the profile for today's 72 miles. The best we can figure by looking at the local route maps, we climbed over 5,200 feet. That's a mile straight up. Ouch!

Back at the hotel we did a load of laundry and then headed back into town for dinner. Tacos and Dairy Queen. Now that's living!

The remains of the day

Northwest Airlines Sucks

Have you ever missed a flight because the plane left early? Elvis has over a million flight miles on Northworst Airlines and this has never happened before. Elvis has heard just about every idiotic excuse for late flights, ranging from "the triple redundant flight computer failed to register a code fifteen" (whatever in the world that means - just technical gobbledygook to confuse the customers), to "the weather in Bangor, Maine has forced us to move aircraft around the country and I'm afraid there is no longer a flight 263 to Milwaukee".

Today's return flight from Seattle was delayed due to some mechanical problem with an engine (that always gives you a sense of security). Since the flight was the first of the day for this particular aircraft you would have thought that it would have occurred to someone to get to the repair sometime overnight instead of thirty minutes prior to flight time. But that's just me, always full of wacky ideas. With a repaired engine we landed in Minneapolis forty minutes late and I still had fifteen minutes to run the mile or so to the gate for the connecting flight. No problem.

I arrive huffing and puffing at the gate at 12:55, five minutes prior to the 1:00 departure time, only to see the airplane pushed back twenty feet from the gate. I ask the smug gate agent why the aircraft isn't at the gate since it's still five minutes until the scheduled departure. Her response, "It's OK sir, we've booked you on the next flight and you're all set". "All set?", I respond, "This flight isn't scheduled to leave the gate for five minutes and you knew that I was on a delayed connection. I'm here in plenty of time and I want to be on that flight which I booked and paid for over a month ago". "Sir", she replies, "There is no need to get belligerent. Northwest Airlines has the right to pull the plane back at any time prior to the scheduled departure". "First", I say, "Don't characterize my comments as belligerence. I simply don't understand why you pulled the plane back early when you knew that there where passengers hustling over from a recently landed connection". By this time two other passengers from the Seattle flight had arrived to discover, beyond their belief, that their Northwest flight had departed early. "And second, what crazy rule allows you to close the gate at anytime? I didn't make up the schedule, you did. The least you could do is keep to it". The agent locked up her little counter and walked away.

It was clear that the gate agent was in a hurry and likely closed the gate early for her own selfish reasons; time to call the boyfriend, freshen the make-up or most likely, knowing the typical unionized airline employee, break-time. I often find myself buckled in an airplane, grounded for thirty minutes as we wait for connecting passengers. This is a common occurrence. But shutting the door early? That's simply unheard of and inexcusable.

The other unhappy passengers and I stood there shaking our heads as the airplane sat, pushed back twenty feet from the gate for fifteen minutes before firing up it's engines and taxiing away. Grrrrr!

So here I sit in the Minneapolis airport with not much else to do but give Northwest Airlines a much deserved shout out.


To prove that Elvis doesn't let the irritants of modern life keep him down too long I will fire off this post and then head over to Maui Tacos for the best food a person can get while being held hostage in an airport. To be washed down with the world's finest latte, available at Caribou Coffee. Elvis is a steady rock of positive energy, isn't he?

Here's a nice picture of the Space Needle that my distinguished colleague Steve took during the quick trip to rainy (but green) Seattle;



Look for lots of posts starting Thursday when Scott, The Boss and Elvis travel to Texas for 8 days of cycling. We might even stop in at The Alamo to see if we can find Pee Wee's bike which we hear is hidden somewhere in the basement.

Journal Entry

Dear Diary:

What a week's it's been. Started the week by riding outside four days in a row. 33 degrees on the week's first ride while up in Door County, warming up each day and ending with a lovely 64 degrees on the fourth ride in which Russ and Barry joined me for a glorious 40 miles in, around, through and over the Holy Hill area. It's a little early in the year for tough climbing but it felt so good to work up an honest sweat - thanks to the warm temps.

The next day work responsibilities required that I make a quick trip to Minneapolis. Boy, do the leg's get stiff and sore if they're stuck in a car for 5 hours the day after a tough ride! The long drive up gave me an opportunity to take this picture of some rock formations in the Wisconsin Dell's area;



And right then a semi swerved into my lane and I realized that I should be paying more attention to my driving.



A night at the hotel gave me an opportunity to see An Inconvenient Truth, that Al Gore movie. Three things jumped out at me Dear Diary, and this is what they were;

1) Every world ending cataclysm that our former Vice President portrayed was done by taking each possible outcome into the worst case scenario, to the Nth degree. Like this; if this goes bad and this goes bad and this goes bad and this goes bad and this goes even worse, well then, we're going to be in a world of hurt. The trouble with this method of portraying possible outcomes is that the viewer fatigues of worst case scenarios. Plus, how likely is it that every event will transpire in the worst possible way at every turn with respect to the environment? And it makes Gore look like an alarmist doom-sayer instead of a thoughtful individual.

2) There was a 20 minute stretch in the middle of the movie that was designed as a mini-biography of Al Gore. It portrayed him as coming from a simple and honest farming background (The inconvenient truth is that he was a coddled rich kid whose father was a rich and powerful Senator. All the photos of Gore as a child were on the family farm yet he only spent 6-8 weeks per summer on that farm. The rest of his childhood was spent hobnobbing with the rich and powerful at private schools in Washington, D.C. Owning a huge estate farm does not make you a farmer. Gore is a Washington insider if there ever was one.). The director also took the opportunity to show the 2000 election as having been stolen from Gore. Now, why did I find the bio odd? Because the movie is supposed to be an important film regarding climate change - why the claptrap and sympathy for Gore?

3) Included were numerous scenes of Gore flying around in private jets and being chauffeured in Mercedes sedans. There's Gore looking out the window of his private jet at the shrinking Amazon. There's Gore in the back of a Mercedes looking at temperature charts on his Apple laptop. Each scene included a close up of Gore shaking his head with the concern of a man who has the entire weight of global warming on his shoulders. A heavy sigh to signify that while the rest of us are not intelligent enough to understand the growing crisis, at least he is. And if you wondered why the Apple laptop got so much screen time it's because Gore serves on Apple's board.

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Arriving home late in the week and after missing a couple of days of riding I joined The Boss for a coffee run early Saturday. The temperatures had dropped again and it was 19 degrees out when we hit the road. We need all the miles that we can get so that we're in reasonable shape for the Texas cycling trip that's coming up later this week. During the ride I forgot that I was wearing a balaclava (that face-mask thing) and when I put the water bottle up to my lips to take a sip the bottle froze to the mask. That Dear Diary, is cold!

Before heading out to Texas Hill Country I need to go to Seattle to handle some more work responsibilities. In fact, I'm writing this at 34,000 feet on my journey west. It's the first time that a post has been done away from home base. This will serve as a dry run since I plan to make numerous entries during the Texas cycling trip. I hope that the laptop is up to the challenge. Well of course it is. It's an Apple!

To prove that I'm writing this en-route take a look at the video below of the take-off from Milwaukee. After seeing the shadow of our plane climbing up you'll see Lake Michigan to the east, then a turn west.

VIDEO OF TAKE OFF

Is it a violation of rules to use a small video camera on an airplane? Oh Dear Diary, I hope that no one alerts the Federal Aviation Administration.

30 Degrees - 30 Miles

It was only 30 degrees out but the thought of another day riding in the basement put me over the top. So I spent a half an hour pulling, strapping and zipping on every piece of winter riding gear that I have and rolled the bike outdoors. The wind was painfully cold for the first few miles but the sun was bright and after my face froze into position and my lungs recovered from the shock it was almost business as usual. I took my favorite route north and west. Although everything is still buried under snow you could almost sense the coming of spring. The angle of the sun, the intermittent chirping of a bird and a bright green sprig of evergreen gave hope after a long and cold winter. And then, BAM! Five snowmobilers crossed the road right in front of me and jolted me back to reality. Spring is still not here. Not by a long shot.

I think the snowmobiles were made by Polaris (And yes, Mike, that gives me the excuse to run the related photo at the very bottom of this post. You're welcome.).

Elvis rides the snowmobile trail

After the sound of the whining snowmobiles died away all was peaceful again. A few miles later I was enjoying a long, fast downhill and as I came around a bend at 35 mph I almost plowed into a herd of white-tail deer. Eleven of them were standing in the middle of the road and were just as startled as I was by the sudden meeting. The squealing of the brakes brought them back to attention and en masse they jumped the fence and scurried into a field. I recovered quick enough to take this photo in which you can see five of them. Sorry for the grainy picture but with the zoom fully extended and then some heavy duty enlarging in Photoshop this is the best I could do.

Oh, deer!

The remainder of the ride was uneventful other than the sun was dipping low and the temperature even lower. By the time I arrived home the sun had set and the little bit of energy drink left in my bottle had frozen (it's hard to take on fluids when the stuff is so cold that it hurts your teeth every-time you take a sip). Although shivering and exhausted by the cold ride I was happy to have been able to get some road miles under my wheels. Outside miles are always better than inside miles. Better for physical fitness and better for psychological well-being. Snowmobiles notwithstanding.

That's a fine pair of snowmobiles

Der Kaiser, Der Quitter

What does Ivan Basso have that Jan Ullrich does not? A national cycling federation that looks the other way at every turn when it comes to drug use in cycling. Basso, licensed in Italy, was the benefactor of an Italian cycling federation ruling to halt the investigation into Basso's involvement in the doping ring known as Operation Puerto. Ullrich, a German native licensed in Switzerland was forced to retire when those two countries refused to roll over and were aggressive in their quest for the truth. Maybe not exactly forced. It was more likely a plea bargain of sorts.

Ullrich's retirement comes just days before German prosecutor's planned to compare Ullrich's DNA with that of bags of blood found at the home of the physician leader of the doping ring. Elvis suspects that Ullrich's retirement will bring an end to further investigations of his illegal activities and the net result for cycling is negative. Another doper walks without the truth being told. The more things change, the more they remain the same.



On a related note, Denmark, like Germany, is taking a hard stand on doping and has said that Basso and Discovery (the team Basso recently signed with) are not welcome at any races in Denmark. The head of Denmark's cycling union made an interesting comment regarding the duplicity of the Discovery team and it's leader Johan Bruyneel when he pointed out that the simple fact that Bruyneel/Discovery have four lawyers looking into the risk of having Basso on the team suggests that the team is doubtful that Basso is clean. Read HERE. The lawyers were probably hired to run interference on the investigation, giving Basso and Discovery a shot at winning the Tour. Clean or doped - a win is a win - right?

Have you ever wondered what top cyclists pay for a doping program? $92,000.00 per year according to documents that you can read about HERE. Although I suspect that one Dr. Michele Ferrari was paid more for the world's top doping program. Ferrari's most famous client claims to have paid and used Ferrari, a medical doctor, for advice about, "My form on the bike" as well as "gearing". Holy chain ring Batman! The next time I go to the doctor to get a tetanus shot I'll take along a picture of me riding my bike. The doctor can take one look at the picture and give me the most efficient gear ratios for climbing and sprinting. After three arduous years of medical school there's no question that physicians would be expert at this sort of thing. This discovery, like pouring water on your head, will soon be sending Cat. 4 riders to the big leagues. Who knew?

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The weather in Wisconsin continues to suck. In the last two weeks we've had 24 inches of snow dumped on us. That's two feet of the white stuff. Add cold and wind to that and you've got a recipe for more hours in the basement.

I can't take much more of this

Take a good look at the photo above. Yes, that's Dr. Benton Quest and Roger "Race" Bannon in an episode of Jonny Quest on the television. I've watched every cycling video and work out tape/DVD so many times this winter that I just had to make a change. 4 DVD's with 659 minutes of classic cartoons just might get me through until warmer weather arrives. If you grew up in the 60's you'll remember how cool this show was. It was an adrenaline rush of danger, science fiction gadgetry and adventure travel. James Bond for kids. Order your own set of Quest DVD's HERE.

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The weather has been so bad that even the mice have resorted to drastic measures. When I opened up the hood of my car to add some windshield washer fluid I discovered a mouse nest the size of a football (American football, not that round soccer thing the rest of the world thinks a football is). Apparently the residual warmth of the engine attracted the rodents. Look at the picture and say it with me, "Ay, carumba!".

Home sweet home

And for those of you keeping score; the average temperature in the United States during the month of February was 1.8 degrees colder than the 20th century average for the month (National Climatic Data Center bulletin HERE). Riddle me that you global warming fear mongers. And why no headlines marking the event? Had it been 1.8 degrees warmer you can bet your bottom dollar that old pal Al Gore would have been front and center on television and in newspapers regurgitating his doomsday rhetoric.