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It appears that yellow peaches taste more like I expect peaches to taste than white peaches. This may be because, until this year, most of the peaches I'd eaten in my life were canned in syrup, served for dessert when I was a child. I never really liked fresh peaches because they were such a mess to eat. The notion of slicing up fruit came late upon me as something of a revelation.
Adding to the delay was the amount of work that needed doing. It now has a new rear wheel and cassette, a new crank, and a new chain. The chain, crank, and cassette I had more or less expected, but the wheel is the second or third new one that has been put on it when the axle turned out to be twisted. I'd like to imagine that I'd been putting too much torque on it pulling out of intersections in low gear with my mightily-thewed legs, but some noodling on Google suggests that the fact that it was a freewheel hub may have been the problem.
Still stuffed from a Friday lunch at the company cafeteria and $10 of vending machine food, I lurched out to my refurbished bicycle and rolled home, and then roused myself to action again and went to the farmer's market in Sunnyvale, where I met ML from work, and was persuaded to modify my original plan to check out old downtown Campbell in favour of going up the peninsula with him and his son J to Talbot's combination bicycle, hobby, and toy shop in San Mateo. We all indulged our respective fascinations with trains (particularly the new O-scale Caltrain cars coming out), novelties, and pulling tags off of merchandise until ML or I caught on to what J was doing.
After that we went looking for a McDonalds in an attempt to placate J, who however soon tired of this quest. Beware of the energy of young children: it leads them to tug on every door within reach, until they find one standing ajar but which still reliably locks behind them when they dash inside. Once the ensuing excitement was over, we left the representatives of the fire and police departments with our profuse thanks, and decided to call it a day.
When I got back to the apartment I considered going out to Campbell anyway, but decided I would call it a day myself, and slept for about 12 hours.
At a guess, I'd say that, having grown up with 2 sisters and their friends, and with few friends of my own, I saw a lot of this, and seeing it in a work of fiction gives it an air of reality, possibly startling for being rare among the science fiction and comics that I ordinarily read.
