How about Ohio? I want to Pootle, too!

This is the most recent, but hopefully not the last, poodle by a Sears Tote/Cycle, codename: Wikey.

No, the codename is only in effect for covert ops. For pootling, we use his nickname, which, for simplicity's sake, is also Wikey.

It was a pleasant day, the sun was shining. At least I think it was. Hard to be sure with all the clouds. It was warm enough that no sweater was required, which is why we forgot the sweater at first and had to return to our starting point to retrieve it. This eventually proved to be our undoing.

We took a gentle pootle across town, at first traveling along the Olentangy River which flows through town and itches if you're foolish enough to get in it.

We came upon a nice little shelter on the bike path.



Neat. This wasn't there when I was in school in Columbus.





It seems like a clever idea, but of dubious use on such a cloudy day. Plus Wikey's tires appeared to be plenty full. Possibly, if future events are any indication, Wikey was overful already. So a quick photo op and we were on our way.



A little farther down the way we found The Great Blue Heron.



I don't know what's so great about it. It's legs don't even bend the right way.

And further on down the path we happened upon a football game. My old Alma Matter, The Ohio State University appeared to be playing ... Ohio State University. It was nice school when I went there, but now it seems that no one will play with it.






I used to live in this building. They don't let people live there anymore. I hope it wasn't something I did. Like taking the vent grating out of my dorm room wall so that I could sneak into the Stadium proper. Surely they didn't care (know) about that.

They spared no expense making me feel right at home. I don't even know how they found out I was coming. I felt obligated to stay for a song, even though I was really just cutting across campus to get some donuts.



Band placated and donuts acquired, our pootle took a slightly more serious turn. Now I was leading Wikey into uncharted territory, along bike paths I had never seen before. But with my newly acquired map, I found the bike path, and we headed on towards the magical land of Bexley. Magical because it gets its own, special name, even though it's totally in the middle of Columbus. I wonder if I can just put a sign up at the entrance of my apartment building that says, "You are now entering Robtopia." and get my own zip code?

The path was long, winding, and pleasant, but not especially picturesque. Perhaps if I had stopped to take more pictures, I would have noticed that my sweater was working its way loose from Wikey's grip. I did notice eventually that it was gone. Wikey and I debated. We seemed close to end of our trip, and we could not remember where we last had the sweater. Maybe we should just let it go. But then I reminded Wikey that the sweater had my imaginary name embroidered on it, that it was given to me by my wife, and that my wife had not been pleased when I left the hat embroidered with my imaginary name at the hotel, or when I left the replacement hat at my aunt and uncle's house, nor would she be pleased if I had told her the tale of how I eventually retrieved that hat only to leave it at a coffee shop in Durham. For her sake I spared her this knowledge, and for all of our sakes, Wikey and I turned around headed halfway back to the donut shop, where we found the sweater. But then things took a bad turn. Wikey met with an accident, or perhaps he balked at having to travel the same stretch of bike path for the third time in a couple of hours. All I know is that as we rolled down the bike path (again) into a nice little park, Wikey's rear tire let out a shout that loudly proclaimed, "Your patch kit is no match for this!"

So our pootle was cut short. It became more of an amble. It would have become a bus ride, but, when that plan occurred to me, I found that Wikey had also shed my map, and the only route I knew involved staying on the bike path. A long walk later, we reached our destination, and Wikey had to stay outside, where cars parked in front of him, and so he didn't get photographed.



Wikey has since been in recovery. A simple tube-ectomy became a complete tire-ectomy. And rather than repeat the whole ordeal later, it was decided to go whole hog and get a rim-ectomy at the same time. Alas, Wikey's hub (blood type 28h) rejected the new rim (blood type 36h), so we patiently wait for a compatible donor hub to arrive and for Wikey to pootle once more.