I used to think my friend Tommy quit using the internet around 2001. As soon as the web went 2.0 he gave it up. His email address is email@example.com. Don’t bother, he doesn’t check it.
Or does he?
We rode together last night and he was turning the cranks at what I have to call “grudge speed.” If I didn’t know better I would suspect he knew he had been compared to a baby seal, lying helpless on the ice. I am going to have to be more careful or start assuming every hollow threat I make on the internet has been taken to heart.
In order to keep it together and not get dropped I had to call not one, but two mechanicals (the old tire pressure gambit) and one nature appreciation (isn’t it beautiful out here Tommy!) He just stared at me, only one foot unclipped from the pedals.
We ran at speeds more common to a road bike, and we traded body blows in the trees and on the hills. I’m going to call it a draw, and if he is reading this I hope he can leave it at that. If he has someone interpreting the internet for him, tell him I take it all back.
You’ve not seen his fireplace transformed into the internet altar?
Nope. I guess that explains it.