Morning. Chesnut street. Somewhere around 34th street, I’m overcome with the smell of urine. It follows me like a cloud. A block later or two later, in front of Drexel, it dissipates, only to be replaced with the smell of burnt rubber.
This lasts until the river. Again with the urine. It may have been all in my head.
Evening. The commute home. I ride w BL out to Fishtown, just to get my legs working. On the way back up Frankford ave, towards Northern Liberties, I smell bbq. Time for a phone call:
“Can I use the grill tonight?”
“I don’t really care. Whatever’s defrosted.”
15 minutes later, I’m on Walnut in the 40s flying out to Cobbs Creek Parkway. More BBQ.
BBQ and pot smoke.
Spring in Philadelphia.
Finally.
Epilogue: I’ve lost my grilling legs. I burn the hell out of the pork chops.
Pork…Its not the other white meat when its the first thing you’ve grilled in 4 months.
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(messed up last comment) multiple distant neighborhoods of baltimore smell like burning clutch. at first i thought it was my car but nope, it’s the nice spring balmer day.
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