Author: Fuzzygalore

Rider, adventurer, traveler, weirdo, lover of love, and all around curious person. Trying to squeeze the fun-juice out of each and every day.
A Foggy Virginia Morning with Cows

A Foggy Virginia Morning with Cows

While life unfolded around me – school buses came, people went to work, cows took a morning dip – I just stood. I stood looking at the hills rolling away into the fog.

At first, I thought that maybe I stood there doing nothing. But nothing is far from the truth. I stood watching, knowing, bearing witness to everything before me.

At first glance, some things don’t show their true selves. It is only through continued observation and patience that they make themselves known.

Sometimes all you need to do is change your perspective to see beautiful things. But first and foremost, you have to want to.

My Secret Little World

My Secret Little World

It’s funny when I meet people who initially “know” me from my blog. I can’t say why, but I find it embarrassing when they talk to me about it or say that the like reading it. It’s almost as if these posts exist somewhere outside of me, in some foreign land that I only know peripherally. I mean, part of the reason that I like to write things down is that I am so abysmal at conveying my thoughts through conversation. So, when someone talks to me about something I wrote, though I’m grateful they appreciate it, I often feel like I’m on the spot.

This quirk might be something akin to my weird relationship with vanity. For lack of a better word, it seems sinful to be proud of the things I do. It is rare that I will volunteer to someone I meet that I keep a blog. Is that strange? I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. But, the idea that I might have to explain what it’s about? No, thank you.

Vintage Signs Actually Worth Writing Home About – Plymouth, Pennsylvania

Vintage Signs Actually Worth Writing Home About – Plymouth, Pennsylvania

Leaving Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania on Friday morning, I decided to follow Route 11 west for a while. Busy but not too busy two-laners that pass through towns long past their prime are where you can spot some of the aging Americana that I love so much. The riding isn’t so hot, but the gems that cling to life tucked within the folds of a city are often something to write home about. A fading Main Street can hold many old secrets.

When I saw the facade of the Max L. Fainberg & Son furniture store in the town of Plymouth, I pulled a quick u-turn to get a better look. It was like being transported into a Wes Anderson movie.

Gorgeous, right? Looking at it gives me a strange melancholic yet nostalgic tickle inside.

You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that’s what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… oh, fuck it.

– The Grand Budapest Hotel

Hang in there, Fainberg’s.

Rewinding the Spring – Returning from a Road Trip

Rewinding the Spring – Returning from a Road Trip

Each time I’ve come home from a riding trip, there is a strange period of decompression that happens. Or maybe re-compression – that’s likely more accurate because it’s the process of rewinding my internal spring too tightly.

When I ride home through the NY Metro gauntlet back to the place where I live, my nerves immediately start twiddling knobs and set all phasers to stun. I’m jolted by the electricity of feeling like everyone is too close to me at all times. It feels chaotic and like everything is out of control. There are too many cars, too many people, too much noise, too many signs, too many of everything! It is a reminder of how adaptable to your surroundings the brain is. In no time at all, these things that overstimulate will fade into background noise. It’s just that gray transition area between solitude and mania that is most uncomfortable.

As the scale begins to tip closer towards home and further from away, I have to work to hang on to the good feelings that sustained me over the miles. This is when the work of remembering happens.

Whispering Giants: Chief Woapalanne of Williamsport, Pennsylvania

Whispering Giants: Chief Woapalanne of Williamsport, Pennsylvania

Last week I stopped in the town of Williamsport, Pennsylvania to see the Whispering Giant, Chief Woapalanne. Though he was taken out of commission from his original perch in the summer of 2015 due to rot, a rescue effort was mounted and the Giant was restored. Following a tweet from the Taber Museum, I knew he was there somewhere at the bus station.

The bus terminal does not allow car traffic to pass through, so I couldn’t even get a good look at the Google Maps Streetview to try to zero in on just where it might be located. I didn’t know if he was outside or placed inside the terminal somewhere.

After circling the block 3 or 4 times with nothing to show for it, I pulled into the municipal parking lot figuring I’d have to walk inside the bus terminal. As I pulled into a parking space, I saw the Chief’s feathers rising up from the corner of the terminal.

Whispering Giant Chief Woapalanne lives!

If you click the image below, you’ll see a full-sized pic in which you can read about the Giant’s restoration process. The most noticeable changes are that he was shortened by three feet, removing the rotten base and he is now wearing a dark stain. He is lovely.

It warms my heart to think that people cared enough to save this Giant.

If you’re interested in visiting him, the parking area on William and W. Willow will give you easy access. Looking on Google Maps, this would be the location of the statue.

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