It finally happened. S’quatch and I crossed paths like two normal Tallahassee residents in a random parking lot. Me, I was picking up sushi which I will masticate and convert into speed, endurance, and power tomorrow at the formidable Oak Mountain trail south of Birmingham, Alabama.
He? He was picking up his son from work. I can’t be certain, but I think I smelled some Rally’s.
Now he is like other friends in town who I am happy to run into in the course of my day, the ones I look at and think:
an hour ago I was out in the woods, slobbering and suffering, covered in ticks and smilac cuts lost in a viking fantasy- clubbing a path to victory through mayhem!
I think that, but I smile and tell them I hope I see them again real soon. They would never understand who I really am.
Here’s a thought locals.
How about we get Pete Shins set up in my garage sometime this weekend with his tools and let him get our bikes running correct? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m running out of “Duck” tape. We can hang out, have some beers, procrastinate, and watch him fix our bikes-just like the shop without the Procol Harum. Joe can even build a couple of those Raleigh Ventures so he doesn’t lose his touch.
Rates will be configured as always:
What did you need?
What did you bring?
How big of a pain in the ass are you?
S’pose I ought to check with Pete too.
Check back tomorrow night for an Oak Mountain Redux report.