When I told my friend Mel (Not his real name) in NYC that I sailed off my stairs in my fuzzy WigWam wool socks, wearing spandex, holding a cup of coffee and a bagel, he laughed so hard he had to hang up on me.

Maybe I’m losing my sense of humor, because I just don’t see the comedy.

The accusations came, sly and not so sly, regarding my intent. Suggestions were made that I would go to such extreme measures to avoid an early (9:00 A:M) bike ride. What I have learned from the experience is that if the world will arbitrarily knock you flat on your ass, then cascade you like a hefty child on a downhill slip and slide into your front door during breakfast, then you might as well hang it out there a little bit more on the trails. Why be risk averse in the woods? If I only have a finite number of full body slams within me, I prefer to take my beatings from the woods. Dirt is softer. Look for a new commitment to aerial maneuvers from me out there.

The Titus Racer X is in the mail. It will be here Thursday, and with the help of my TOTALLY BEST FRIEND PETE we will begin the conversion after hours when the shop is nice and quiet, and the alchemy most potent for the Dark Arts.


7 Responses to Oof!

  1. Watch out Pete doesn’t put things that rattle in your bars or b.b.’s in your seat tube. He is an evil magician and should be treated as such.
    Congrats on the new ride, now I am the only red headed step child on a old Jamis.

  2. Hey! I’m not laughing. I’m just shaking my head at the mystery of why things happen the way they do.
    Who knew that the combination of WigWam socks and a clean floor could be more dangerous than a bike and a dirt trail?
    Be careful out there. And IN there, too. That’s all I can say.