Looka what happens when you leave your fresh set of wheels unattended in Kensington. At least, if said wheels include a rack. ‘Round midnight, and here’s this note on the windshield. Written on the back of a set of David Letterman timings. What?? Only 7 and a half minutes of local avails? Scandalous!
Interestingly, the rack is not currently set up to carry a bike. Nor will it ever be, on account of this car is better suited for a spare-mount bike rack. But maybe a ride of some sort is desired: I hear it’s a big hill to get up to Kensington which, she would be tired.
Alas, ’twas a tease. Next day I had to pedal my own self around the Mt. Airy test track, with super-biker squeaking about not being able to keep up. Did I go too fast? It’s always easier with a stiff frame, but oh the cost. Maybe cheaper components. Shifter? I hardly know ‘er.
But it seems the days of beautiful exercise, fresh air, sunshine, helmet-head, pounding heart, burning quadriceps, raw throat, sweat-soaked clothing, near collapse from dehydration, and all that wonderful stuff draw nearer. Huh. Maybe I should just get a kayak.
How do you know the reply was left by a chick looking for a ride??
And this isn’t the first time I’ve heard of a girl complaining of a boy who is too fast. Slow and Steady wins the race.
I’ve seen chicks try to fly. Their wings aren’t built for it. Hence the need for a ride. HAH! PH34R my mighty deductive powers!
Slow and steady is fine until someone gets bored.