John’s Ramblings

Auburn is not such a bad place to live as a cyclist (except for the fact that due to my house location on a dead end downhill, I basically live at the bottom of a 150′ deep hole). I have easy access to the Interurban/Green River Trail system within a mile of my house. Beyond the cities of Auburn and Kent to the east, there are an abundance of rural areas where one can ride their bike without too much horn-honking.

The weak link in this little bicycling nirvana has been the ways to get from west-to-east. Even with the addition of the 277th St. Corridor Trail, the primary link for me will probably remain Auburn-Black Diamond Road. You head south on “R” Street from East Main in Auburn, and after maybe a mile it bends to the left and becomes Auburn-Black Diamond. The road then runs the length of what is known as The Auburn Narrows. This is the gap in the east hills through which runs the Green River, and Highway 18. Our route lies between those two.

It is also frequented by a gazillion gravel trucks a day, as there is a quarry at the Auburn end of this road. The road is two-lane, often there is little shoulder, and the potholes could sometimes swallow a Hummer (that might be a good thing). Riding through here on a bicycle is a tense little dash for a mile, until you can get past Highway 18 and either head up the hill to Black Diamond, or go right to Green Valley & Flaming Geyser Park.

The great news is that the City of Auburn just closed Auburn-Black Diamond for paving work! My understanding is that the road may actually be widened a bit in places while they replace the road surface and shoulders along this stretch. I can hardly wait to try it out come March 1.

I made this little discovery while heading out to Green Valley Meats, a butcher shop of a bygone era where they sell organic beef, pork, etc., homemade sausages, smoked meats, and jerkey. As I was waiting for my meat order to be wrapped (remember when you didn’t pick up meat in a styrofoam and cellophane tray?), I noticed the bins of beef jerky on top of the meat case. Two at the end caught my eye: “Assburner”, and “2 Hot 4 Hell”.

I inquired, and was told that the difference was temperature, “Assburner” was not nearly as hot as “2 Hot 4 Hell”. “Want a sample?” “Um, sure”. She gloves-up. I’m wondering if it’s for sanitary purposes, or her desire to keep this stuff off her exposed skin. She snips off a small piece of each jerky with a scissors, and hands it to me. “Assburner” was pretty good. Hot, but not nuclear, and pretty good flavor. I’m a 4-star Thai kinda guy, so no problemo. Then she hands me the second sample. By the time I get to the cash register, the speech centers of my brain are unable to respond to the “debit or credit” question. I gesture, sign, smile and leave, chewing on a piece of absolute fire. Man, this bad-boy was hot! I had this major endorphine rush going on, so bad I probably shouldn’t have been driving. Things finally calmed down, but I swear I had a buzz going for at least 30 minutes from that one square inch of jerky. I am dreading seeing it again “on the other side”, however.

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