ElectionCyclist

Thank you.

No matter what happens at the polls today be courteous and respectful. Democracy is difficult - you don’t have to be.

From the left and the right. Some interesting and surprising, others not.

Andrew Sullivan
Charles Krauthammer
Christopher Buckley
Christopher Hitchens (especially harsh)

From The Daily Beast

Officials at the Department of Homeland Security are busily preparing a massive briefing book for the transition to a new administration, developing training exercises and anticipating difficulties, yet they have not yet had any formal contact with either the Obama or the McCain campaign.

We’re all focused on the economy, but this seems like an important part of the transition.

Enjoy…I did.

From Reason (via Instapundit)

So after the setbacks of Tuesday and increased preparation for Wednesday, I figured the final ride of ElectionCycle.com would progress without a hiccup and my arrival in New Orleans was predetermined and fool proof. A picturesque finale!

Thirty miles into the ride, approaching the Rogolets Bridge, a span that had a quick rise and continued for almost half a mile, I ran over a 12-inch sliver of smooth metal (similar to solder) which was hooked 180 degrees on each end. Somehow this metal, which had washed onto the shoulder during Hurricane Gustav, lodged in my spokes and severed my rear derailleur while also ruining my chain.

The ElectionCycle was over.

Instead of arriving in New Orleans with American flags waving in the wind and a mint julep awaiting me at a bar in the French Quarter, I’d instead be forced into town almost a derelict, off my bike and with a nasty limp.

Moments after the accident I took time to perform bike triage, but the derailleur was lost and as much as I’d prepared, a brand new derailleur wasn’t in my supply kit. So I looked around for any store that might help, a bike shop, boat shop, even a construction site? Nothing. With only a few rebuilt houses in the immediate area, and no sign of assistance, I had to make a decision. Either sit beside the bike and stick my thumb skyward or get moving by my own accord. I chose the latter, picked up “Betty-Lou” (not the bike’s real name) and marched down Highway 90 towards the bridge and New Orleans.

I’m not sure shouldering the bike was a solution at all, but I wasn’t willing to aggressively hitchhike and I couldn’t let go of a need to keep moving under my own power.

Enter Jim Lamarque.

He’d watched my situation unfold from his home and when I shouldered the bike thought it best to come inspect my difficulties for himself. He drove up from behind and honked the horn to his recently purchased full size GMC pickup truck. I turned and greeted him with the requisite skepticism. At only five feet two inches tall, and with a full gray beard Jim presented himself as a hard working man, his handshake firm and his stature solid. I told him about the piece of metal and without hesitation he offered me a ride to New Orleans.

And so it was; I’d enter New Orleans in the cab of Jim’s pickup truck, listening to the story of his life and the troubles caused by Katrina and Gustav. He knew better times, when his house was twice as large and he was fully employed, but still nothing he discussed fell short of complete optimism.

Thirty minutes after loading my bike in his truck we arrived at Bayou Bicycles in New Orleans where I just as simply unloaded the bike. He got out of the truck, posed for a picture and patiently waited for me to get situated in the gravel driveway of the shop. Hopping into his truck he kept insisting I call him if I found myself in need of anything, “anything at all.” I thanked him and we shook hands and parted ways.

I’ve thought a lot about the trip the past 24 hours and worked to understand it as either a success or a failure. And while I don’t want to think of this trip in terms of winning and losing, I’m certain now that it is, so far, nothing short of a complete success. When I try to think of the trip in terms of failures I just end up rehashing the disappointment of not finishing while on top of the bike, but when I think of success I think of guys like Jim. And how is that not a success?

I agree with Campbell Brown about Dole. But how amusing is the end of her spiel when she expertly strings together five monster cliches. Heh.