Uh-Oh, play time is over.
I bet it has been nice and peaceful in the kingdom while I was away hasn’ it? Fig juice running down your arms while you listen to tales of wars gone by sung by some traveling bard? Riding in harmony, one with the other, out and back and out again?
Well forget about all of that. I have found my leathery wings and that means that you will be hearing me bellering, wheezing, crying like a baby with a sore tooth, and cursing like Eddie Murphy somewhere on the trail behind you, or Gods be merciful, in front of you.
That’s right. I’m trotting out this tired old schtick one more time, like Meadowlark Lemon dribbling in a circle on his cracking arthritic knees. People will wince in sympathetic embarassment, but they also will whisper
I know…it’s sad, but he’s a legend!
Now where the hell is that San Felasco application-
This is the third time I have had to google something from your blog! You know I come here for pleasent diversion and you get all werdie on me.
Dude if you rode half as much as you do vocabilizing you be dropping everyone!
Dude throw the book on the barbie and come ride with us unliterates!
You have the moves. You just need some discipline at the training table and a regimen. Do they have boot camp for 30-something mountain bikers? Rehab? Cue the horns for the Rocky theme.
I’m a wrider not a rider.
Oh face it- you are a writer.
Which is not to say you can’t be a rider, too. Did not mean to imply that.
Oh, it is too late, you said it! Even my non-riding readers can’t resist twisting the knife.
That’s it- I need a g & t.
How many G and T’s will a camelbak hold?
Maybe just train and get away from the table all together?
great idea Chris Carmichael.
It’s not the table; it’s the tap.