The Beach Vulture

The beach vulture hovers above, hidden in the sun, hidden from the beach denizens below. Riding the thermals above the tree line, it floats above all. Looking down it sees all below. The beach vulture patiently waits and then waits some more. It is in no hurry, because it waits for death, while death waits for all. As you lie on your back, sunning yourself, with eyes closed that momentary flicker of shadow might just be a seagull or it could be the beach vulture, spiraling in for you.

Here is a fun fact, one-percent of all allen wrenches made in the world, are made for IKEA. All of that contemporary Scandinavian furniture that IKEA sells and comes with some assembly required, also comes with an allen wrench or two. Allen wrenches come to mind these days, because for the last two days, I have been deploying them as I work on my bicycle. First, I gave my bike its annual facelift. This year, this maintenance consisted of new tires, tubes, brake pads, chain and cassette. Next, I broke down the cycle for transport. I removed the pedals, turned the handle bars, but I could not lower the seat post. Then I remembered what troubles I had with this seat post, when I first got this bike.

I got a ride in this morning. It was down right cold. It was in the fifties. Very unusual for Saint Louis in July. The new chain was much quieter than the old one had become, but the rear derailleur needs some adjustment. It jumps in some of the gears. I may adjust it, a process of successive approximations, or I may have a professional do it for me. I can’t decide. It is suppose to rain tonight and tomorrow, so I won’t be riding then, not with my shiny new bike parts.