Bolted out of work right at 5:00 so as to not waste any daylight, grabbed my stuff at home, and headed for the bike path. It really was a lovely evening, not too warm, not too cool, not too many pedestrians (aka, speed bumps). Did nine miles, pushed myself, and still felt good afterwards.
The bike computer still isn't talking to the sensor. I tried cleaning the contacts with an eraser, but no joy. I think one of the sending wires must've been damaged when I had the bike overhauled. The problem is that the computer is thirteen years old, and neither it nor it's replacement parts are made any more. I do have a spare sensor unit from the new computer I bought to replace the widowmaker's unit that got broken when I had my accident. The interface that the computer slides into is almost identical to the original, and the old unit does fit into it, albeit a little more snugly than necessary. (OTOH, the new computer doesn't quite fit in the old sender.) So maybe that would work. Or, I suppose I could just use the newer, snazzier computer on the old bike, too.
When I got home, I turned on the grill and made a pizzaburger for dinner.
Bob Timmermann has a nice piece over at the Griddle on why Bill Mueller pronounces his name the way he does.