The Fine Taste of Exhaust

My new commute takes me through much more auto traffic than my previous route. I used to ride a bike path along a creek that led to a bike path along the Mississippi River that led to a road ride through a few sleepy St. Paul neighborhoods. I rarely sat at stoplights and rarely sucked exhaust fumes.

My new route allows me plenty of chances to belly up to the smoke and fume bar. After a couple of weeks inhaling auto exhaust, I've developed a taste for it. I've grown fond of the taste of exhaust from old Camaros that need a ring jobs. And the taste of ethanol fumes is delicious. I look forward to a world where most cars are fueled by E85.

A rare treat is being stopped behind a diesel Golf running on waste vegetable oil. I think I'll carry two water bottles from now on. One will contain white wine and the other red. Then I'll have the perfect accompaniment for any flavor of exhaust. White goes with standard gas exhaust (better with a touch of burning oil) and red goes nicely with ethanol blends.

What goes with waste vegetable oil you ask? Beer, of course. That's where the big, dorky Carradice-style bags come in handy. I can easily haul a 4-pack of Guiness along for the ride. I think I should look into a handlebar bag though. That'll allow a quick-draw style of drinking while in traffic.

I think I'm developing the ability to tell how many miles are on a car based on the taste of the exhaust. Mmmmm.