I am not talking about the house. That is far less of an obligation than registering for yet another Tour de San Felasco, yet I hold the Priority envelope in hand. Tommy and I are committed as soon as I drop this hot potato in the mail.
Squatch howled and hollered like a baby with a sore tooth last night when I called to invite him to join us for a slow and stately parade through the big oaks of Alachua county. He evoked last year’s tour, at which our entire party promptly abandoned him when he flatted in the first 3 miles, or maybe his chain fell off, or his crank was htting his frame. It doesn’t matter really.
Now he is strong and fast with a new bike, (the punisher) which is designed exactly for a 62 mile off-road tour. He has us in the crosshairs and he will not fire.
This is an insult! Better to be beaten fairly on the field then pencil-whipped in the blogosphere.
Don’t delay, registration fills up fast.