Rode the 14-mile circuit out to Bedford Street, Lexington, on the Minuteman after work. In Arlington Center, a cop ticketed a cyclist who was riding the wrong way on Mass. Ave., lining up to run the pedestrian walk light. I refrained from cheering, but it made me feel pretty cheery. Come to think of it, the cop looked pretty amused at the explanation he was getting from the gentleman receiving the ticket.
Spent the first third of the ride stopping every few hundred yards and messing with the seat height/angle/horizontal position; this was driven by a dialogue between my knees and my crotch, each of which were making compelling arguments. Eventually, found a sweet spot in which nothing hurt and I had lots of power & acceleration, put the wrench in my pocket, and had a nice ride. Dunno if the seat is as dialed-in as it was before I started this nonsense, but it's now better than it's been in weeks.
Conversational fragment overheard on the Minuteman:
He: "I knew the answer: Chevy Impala."
She: "Yecch! Who wants to know that?"
rod