RIDEdwin Rally Ride Saturday 7/30 at 9AM – Come Join the Fun!

Cover it. Come. Spread the Word. Ride. Eat. Be Joyful.

Pedal your bike. Have fun. Help continue Edwin Gardner’s Work…

EDWIN GARDNER thought it was cool, fun, and efficient to get around Charleston on his bicycle. Plenty of other Charleston residents feel the same way. They’ll celebrate Edwin and the bicycle, his preferred mode of local transportation at 9am this Saturday (July 30) for the first annual RIDEdwin. The Rally/Ride starts and ends at Cannon Park at the corner of Calhoun and Rutledge.

Edwin died one year ago after being struck on his bike by an auto. But RIDEdwin isn’t a mournful event. “I hope we get a lot of people together to make our city a safe place to ride bikes,” says architect Whitney Powers, Edwin’s widow. (She and their daughter Olive continue pedaling their bicycles all over the Charleston peninsula.)

The pre-ride rally will be brief and the short, safe (police-escorted) ride should be fun for everyone, children included. Organizers are also asking pedicab operators to show up in numbers in case there are participants who would prefer paying to ride instead of pedaling. Food and beverage (provided by local restaurants, markets and bakeries) will be provided after the ride. (Route takes riders south to the Battery and north again to Cannon Park.)

Gardner served his community in many ways. He conducted his life as he believed. He was a skilled kayaker and a boat builder. He founded the Mosquito Fleet in order to teach people — especially underprivileged youth — about our maritime history and about the joys of being on the water. His attention was focused broadly, beyond bicycles and boats or any single issue. But his latest contributions as a member of the new Peninsula Task Force deal directly with alternative forms of transportation, bicycles, pedicabs, CARTA and more.

Organizers hope the RIDEdwin will keep Gardner’s vision for a better community alive and galvanize people to pitch in to make it happen.

I'll take my dinner fried

Our dinner rotation at work is always an interesting affair. A few guys are fairly consistent and sometimes quite impressive with their culinary exploits, while others leave you wondering with queasy anticipation what the dinner hour will bring. Tonight was a gut buster. I find myself using one phrase fairly often and it held true tonight "only in the South". Earlier in the year the FDA replaced the food pyramid with the food plate. They recommend balancing calories and increasing the intake of fruits, veggies, and whole grains. Blah, blah, blah, eat healthy! Some surprisingly enough find this hard to achieve on a meal by meal basis and cook dinners that look...well look like my dinner tonight. Briefly examine my plate and attempt to fill in the food plate. It may be hard to decipher what exactly I had for dinner so I'll translate that heap of fried soul food. Fried catfish, hushpuppies (also fried), grits (whatever grits are?), and tartar sauce. It's almost laughable how uncategorized my meal was except for the fact my belly hurts if I do have a jolly. Michelle Obama would be so disappointed. 

Folly Beach gets rep in GQ

GQ's Guide to the Best Beaches in America Travel Features: GQ.com

In Lieu of..

I usually do not claim nor discuss much of work, but the loss of my helmet was a reminder how sentimental things could mean so much. This photo was taken after a house fire on Fargo St. in North Charleston, SC.  The fact that I know that is a bit much, but I vividly remember every fire I've made entry into. Being on the front line and advancing a hoseline into a burning building is one of the greatest rushes I've ever felt. It makes the restless nights and afternoons of anticipation well worth the extra heart murmur. The only reminder I have of those moments are memories filed in my brain. They sit amongst the happiest and most trying times of life, all while flushed amongst inebriated nights. The only physical reminder of what I've seen and have been through was permanently affixed to my lid. Whether it be the charred leather sides or blacked out tetrahedrons, it was a constant reminder that I was there. Wherever there may may be..you may have to ask Bubba from McClellanville or Jerry from Bamberg. Their fire stories are endless and quite possibly the most exaggerated in the department. What I do know is the sense of pride I felt when I opened my locker every morning. My helmet represented where I've been. Working extra was no longer a burden, other shifts respected you. Station 3-stood for the busiest in the city, Rescue 3- meant you knew your shit, NCFD draws looks amongst surrounding departments because they do not receive our call volume. Im not a songstress for our department by any means, I think we are completely fucked up and southern like the rest of the state but I've learned an incredible amount about the fire service since getting the opportunity to fill a spot on a truck. The fact that some turd is roaming North Charleston's crack filled streets toting my property with absolutely no use for it frustrates me to no end. Dear helmet, come back.

Good Flick - Check it out

I went to the Terrace Theatre(our local indie theatre) the other night and caught this movie. I've been waiting for its arrival at the Terrace and I must say it has was one of the better films I've seen in a while.

Sunset at Colonial Lake

Animals at Work