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Although I am sixty years old, I am doing it! I heard somewhere that our bodies need at least forty-five minutes of cardio-vascular exercise for optimal results. The same study claimed, however, that should we exceed forty-five minutes, no additional benefit accrues! Being somewhat of a slacker myself, I try not to exceed forty-five minutes. The Diamond Valley Lake circuit requires MORE than forty-five minutes, as I found on a recent ride around the lake.
Mayberry Hill is a good challenge for someone who wishes for a challenge—a challenge to your cardio-pulmonary level, to your inclination for bicycling, to your desire to speed down after a grueling ascent. At the top are spectacular views of the valley looking west. Directly below are orange groves. Around you are beautiful houses done in individualized architectural styles.
I drive to Gibbel Rd. Via State St until it crosses Domenigoni Parkway—about seven miles from my house. In order to get my full forty-five-minute workout, I find that it is best to park in the dirt next to the little fenced in water building, or whatever it is, and begin there. It is seventy-five degrees at 8:45 AM in October, because in this valley, summer is stubborn and steadfast.
An elderly couple walks into my business—no, it’s not a bar and this is not a joke about an elderly couple walking into a bar—it is a true story. So, this elderly couple came to get their car washed. He opened the door for her, and they both walked to the cashier holding hands tenderly and lovingly.
“Teachers change the world, one child, at a time,” so the saying goes. If I go by the way teachers have changed my kids, then God help us all! Nobody said that the change has to be for the better; it could also be for the worse. My wife and I are seeing this worse unfold in front of our very own eyes and there’s no teacher in sight—literally. Zoom meetings don’t count.
As I do not wish to hazard the automobile traffic between my garage in San Jacinto and the route up to Simpson Park, I load my bike in the Tundra and take Columbia St. almost until it ends at Stetson Ave. I take out the bike, cross Stetson and continue until I hit Crest, one of the lovelier streets in Hemet.
I wish I could publish a blank column today. As a 75-year-old white guy, it is hard to know what to say in response to racism and police violence toward black men and women.
From which we continued to recover when Donald J. Trump became president. It became fashionable to throw out the words, "Make America Great Again." Words I distinctly remember from the late 1930's in Germany. But we were America at its strongest now. Nothing like that could ever happen here. No way.
The nineties came in like a lamb and went out like a windstorm. Everything in our society seemed topsy-turvy. It was the decade of credit card mania, bigger homes, more expensive cars and extravagant spending.
The 1980 presidential race, even with three major candidates, was a cakewalk for the former actor and Governor of California. Ronald Reagan was swept into the White House (garnering 489 electoral votes), with his "kitchen cabinet" in tow.