The London to Brighton Race

Albert de Dion on a De Dion Bouton (via Wikipedia)

It's that time of the year again - the first Sunday in November, hundreds of thousands of old car guys hobble over to London to ogle old cars at the London to Brighton Run. I read up a little bit on the race and found the following info at the LBVCR website:

"The annual event ... commemorates the Emancipation Run of 14 November 1896 which celebrated the passing into law of the Locomotives on the Highway Act, which raised the speed limit for `light locomotives' from 4 mph to 14 mph and abolished the requirement for these vehicles to be preceded by a man on foot."

I like the idea of a man standing in front of my car at all times watching out for pedestrians and stuff. Also, I hate this idea. Did he get to carry an umbrella if it was raining? It rains a lot in England. And if there was nobody on the street, could he get in the car and just get out when there were people around?

14 mph may not seem fast in a regular car with windshields and airbags, but keep in mind this guy is basically sitting on a wooden lawnmower. I am scared for his safety and he isn't even moving.

Good luck out there, riders. Smell the foggy air and hang on tight around those curves.

At The Supermarket

Today at TJ's I saw a sign advertising baking powder that just said "You are gonna need it for stuff! Holiday item!" with some elves dancing around on the side. I laughed out loud, imagining some dude getting desperate after making a bunch of signs cheerfully describing all the uses for dried fruits and nuts.

Saying Goodbye to Mother's

I read the news over someone's shoulder on my ride home from work: Mother's Cookies is going out of business. I slumped over in my seat, dejected, as through this cookie company were a real member of my family and I had just read an obituary. In a way, Mother's has been a part of our lives.

Mother's was there with us on every picnic, every camping trip, and many evenings after dinner. Dad would shift around in his chair, looking over to see if we had "the good" cookies in stock, as though he could stretch his vision beyond the pantry door to spy them.

Checkerboard Wafers

The checkerboard wafers were not eaten but more inhaled - the package would be there, daintily unwrapped at the end, and then moments later there would be a handful of wafers left. Our parents would nudge them towards us, saying, "You go ahead, honey. Have the last ones," like we were some starving paupers who would never be able to afford those magical wafers again. "No, I'm full," we'd both reply, putting our hands on our bellies. These leftovers would be carefully repackaged in saran wrap or an excessively large Tupperware container, and would remain abandoned on the shelf until they were stale and chewy. It was our unspoken ritual - some cookies must be sacrificed to ensure the arrival of fresh ones in coming weeks. Strangely, this never happened with the animal cookies...

We also had a long standing disagreement over the checkerboard cookies, and one time did a blindfolded taste test to see if, indeed, they do taste like the Neapolitan flavors they were presumably modeled after. I insisted that they taste like chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, but failed the blindfolded test and proved myself wrong. Damnit!

Circus Animal

The circus animals came on a lot of hiking and picnic-related trips. They'd be warm by lunchtime but by some stroke of engineering genius, the frosting would be fully intact, never melting off of the cookies. I spent a lot of time chasing after the sprinkles at the bottom of the bag and would have sprinkle-colored marks on my fingers for the rest of the afternoon.

English Tea

I'm honestly not sure how my dad is going to live without these. I mean, there are other cookies, but these seem to be his staple after-dinner treat. The cookies will bruise your mouth as you bite into them - they're thick and unyielding and probably meant for adults instead of a small child's jaws. They've got this funny imprinted texture that I've only come to appreciate over time, but the smell of the vanilla centers has always been comforting. These are better dipping cookies than any dark-colored counterpart you might see advertised. You can forget about them as they float around in your milk and instead of totally disintegrating and tainting your drink, they'll come out perfect every time.

Mother's Cookies used to be manufactured here in Oakland, and the founder worked in San Francisco. I know they changed hands a lot in the last decade, but I still feel like they're a part of the Bay Area's history and community. I see the trucks on the highway in traffic, with their not-to-scale images shading my tiny car and taking me back to every place we went with those cookies. I think of the best times of my life - being in nature, with loved ones, eating brightly colored sugary foods. What could be more hyggelig?

That Proverb

I keep thinking of this Buddhist proverb, and this year it's been one of my guiding principles. Keep calm, don't assume anything. Things are going to be happening, and you can't let them ruffle you up like that. Apologies to anyone who knows this story better than me - I am basing this on a memory from many years back. The monk who told the story took it nice and slow, but I'm doing more of a summary.


A long time ago, in a rural village, there was a farmer who had one son. One day a wild horse came to their farm and the son tamed it. All of the farmer's neighbors came by and said, "How lucky of you! You are so fortunate to find a horse like this." And the farmer replied, "I'm not so sure. Not everything that seems good is really so good." All of the neighbors were startled by his words and thought him ungrateful for this gift from nature.

The next day, the son went out riding the new horse. The horse bucked him off and the son was badly injured and unable to walk. All of the neighbors returned to the farmer's cottage and paid their condolences. "This is a terrible thing. We are so sorry your son is hurt." And the farmer looked into his tea and said, "Not everything that seems bad is really so bad." Again, the neighbors were bewildered by the man's words. How could he think his son's pain was a good thing?

The day after that, the emperor's minister came through town with an announcement:
all healthy firstborn males will be taken by the emperor for his army immediately. As the farmer's son was badly injured, he was allowed to stay in the village.

There might be more to the story, but you get the point. I feel like this proverb is especially poignant in this time of uncertainty. Politics, economics, emotions: I am trying to understand that these things are not two-sided like coins, but multi-sided and worthy of our patience.