Nicely, I’m formally “that man.”
Who’s “that man?”
Nicely, the man in Lycra sitting within the ready room on the storage ready for his automotive, after all:
Gross.
My hope was that that it might be prepared by the point I used to be completed using and I might seize my footwear and modesty shorts out of it earlier than settling up, however alas right here I’m, and mentioned objects are approach up there on the raise. So I really feel like a nude camper whose bathing swimsuit has been run up the flagpole.
I’m additionally typing this on my telephone. That is the primary time in 35 years of motorbike running a blog that I’ve ever tried a put up on my telephone, and writing in T9 is even more durable than you’d suppose it might be, let me inform you.
As for the journey I took, I’m happy to report that the Milwaukee has formally made its red-color (or technically copper-color) debut:
In accordance with my Strava pink bikes usually are not quicker, although this one actually felt prefer it was. I don’t know if it was the psychological tailwind from the brand new end, or the inadvertent tune-up it acquired through the reassembly course of, or simply the truth that I’ve been using a 34 year-old bonded aluminum Trek for the previous few weeks, however wow did it really feel good–and I daresay it regarded good, too:
Although I can’t say the identical about myself:
Oh, I’m dwelling now, so I’m again on an actual laptop, and so from right here on in I can now not blame typos, poor syntax, inept formatting, and so on. on the truth that I used to be tapping away at a tiny telephone display screen.
Talking of tight clothes, you could recall that I not too long ago broke in a brand new stretchy outfit:
And through that journey I used to be threatened by a goose:
Nicely, on at this time’s journey I as soon as once more encountered the identical goose household:
I used to be going to take refuge on this derelict porta-potty:
Which I imagine I’ve featured earlier than owing to its reassuring message:
However I figured loss of life by goose was higher than loss of life by sizzling porta-potty (it was already like 80 American Freedom Levels or one thing), and mercifully this time they let me go:
Better of all, I managed to not moist myself in concern, although as soon as I used to be secure I discovered a spot to alleviate myself that was not a plastic field:
Whereas the truth that the geese let me go might imply they now acknowledge me and notice I’m not threatening to fatten up their offspring and make fwah grah (be aware to assistant–repair that) out of them, I think that it was my wardrobe, and that these busy gravelista patterns made them violent:
[I don’t know which is more disgraceful: my physique, my hairy legs, or my ghastly bar tape.]
Or possibly they similar to the colour of my bike:
With the black tires and elements it’s largely Coca-Cola in the intervening time:
However with some tanwall tires and pale yellow bar tape it might go full Strawberry Cheesecake.
