I decided it was time to investigate this trend and purchased a can of Redds Apple Ale. The best way to describe this stuff would be a mix of beer and apple cider. I think they might be close to having something here but really I think I could mix this up at home and come up with something better.
The next time I was faced with a choice at the cooler I saw they had something new. Redds Wicked Apple Ale. Wicked you say. What's wicked? Is it the 8% alcohol by volume? Wicked might be just what this brew needs. I purchased a 24 oz can of the stuff and hauled the precious cargo home in the pac on my sportster.
The next day at work the DJ's on the radio were talking about this drink. A coworker from our lawn crew questioned what the difference might be between apple ale and wicked apple ale. I stepped up and offered my interpretation of the drinks.
Imagine a beer and apple cider mix. That's Redd's Apple Ale. Now, think about mowing grass under an apple tree. There are a bunch of fallen apples in the tall grass but you're too lazy to get your ass off the lawn mower and clean up the apples so you just run over them making a big mess of things. A week later you return to the scene of the crime to cut the grass again. What you find are a bunch of rotten apples stinkin up the place. Bees are busy doing whatever they do and there is evidence of deer traffic. THESE are the apples used to make Wicked Apple Ale. I don't know how else to describe this brew and I know it sounds disgusting but it's actually quite delicious.
Enjoy!
For those of you that don't give a crap about drinks, I offer this update on my bike situation.
The sportster rear tire might have enough tread to finish the season.
The BSA sits on the hoist waiting for some attention. After the Packer game today, I might work on that.
The Rat Turd needs a clutch cable and on thursday after work I rode to Team Winnebagoland to pick one up. They've made some changes and have much more showroom space. I poked around a bit till I warmed up enough to venture home. On the frosty return trip my hands were getting cold. I had about forty miles to go was counting down the miles till I got home to the warmth of my shop. I can make it. Ten miles to go. I should be froze to the bone by then. The timing will be just right.
BRIDGE OUT. Crap. I forgot about the construction on County road D. Now instead of a 10 mile ride till thawing out it would be a 28 mile detour.
I could have stopped and warmed my hands over the sportster engine. A short walk would have helped too. I chose to keep pushing on. Get it over with. As much as I hate getting cold, I enjoy riding a bike. The moon was bright, traffic was almost non existent and the deer were nowhere to be seen. Half of my attention was about getting home in one piece. The rest of my head was involved in thoughts designed to make me forget how cold I was. Why was I here on this road right now? How did this road get here? Who built it and why do I live where I do? Before ya know it I was home warming myself in front of my shop furnace. Another enjoyable ride to look back on.
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