I Know Its Sunday but...

...let me start by telling you about Friday.

So, I have been sorely behind in my training for the Bike Northwoods tour that I am undertaking in July. Friday, I had the day off of work and decided that I should try to get in some biking before the weekend. So, I head off to the Elm Creek Park Reserve, unload my bike and off I go. Well, about 5 miles in, I'm playing around in the big gear and cruising at about 26 mph, shift down for an upcoming hill and suddenly, automatic transmission. Okay, not really automatic transmission, but basically every pedal rotation, I'm changing the back gear set up and down. FRICK! That was not the word I used, but close enough. So, I stop my bike, call up my bike shop and ask for some advice. They give me good advice, but it didn't work. So, I gingerly pedaled my bike back to the car. Grannies are passing me, which is embarrassing since I'm in my whole serious biker get-up, spandex and all. (I still believe that spandex is a privilege, not a right, but when it comes to prostate preservation, you just have to wear the biking shorts.) Anyway, so I empty my bike bag and put the cell phone and my wallet on top of the car, load the bike in back and head off to the bike shop.
About a mile down highway 169, I'm cruising along at about 60 mph and catch something in my rear view mirror. I look just in time to see my wallet explode on the highway behind me. Now, I carry a fat man wallet, full of receipts and punch cards to coffee and lunch places and membership cards and credit cards and all of this has exploded behind me on a busy highway. So, I pull over and go running up the side of the highway, occasionally darting between cars to grab a flying $20 or a credit card or a receipt. I look really cool in my spandex out there bending over for all the world to see my giant spandex ass picking up the contents of my wallet. FRICK!
Just as I'm about done, two cop cars pull over and ask what's going on. By the way, this was the only time that traffic even bothered to slow down. Anyway, I explain to them what happened, we have a good chuckle and I say, "Well at least it was only my wallet and I found everything." The female cop says, "Yeah, it could have been something really valuable like a laptop." To which I chime in, "Or a baby", proving once again that given the opportunity to leave well enough alone, I will usually say something completely stupid instead. There was a long pause broken by the male cop who said, "Yeah, I guess that could happen." Then they looked at each other until the male cop wished me a nice day and sent me on my way. He then proceeded to follow me to the bike shop about another mile down the road, just in case I should throw out an infant or something. Oh, and the cell phone was still on top of the car. Go figure.
The bike shop got me fixed up (a twisted chain link) and I was back in business for the 150 mile weekend we had planned and have since finished. We got rained on 6 times, cold rain mind you, but thanks to high performance clothing that wicks away moisture, we were dry in a short while. Well, almost dry. I assure you that as a man, there is little less comfortable than biking shorts with a cold wet chamois lodged between your legs. Saturday, we rode from Moose Lake to Duluth and back. Today, we rode from Moose Lake to Hinkley and back. My ass is sore and I suspect I may not be able to walk tomorrow, but we had a good time. Oh, and one of the party said a word I hadn't heard since college- queef. I don't even know that I spelled it right, but what a nasty word. It came up during a conversation about farting during oral sex. Just in case you're wondering, I was tucked in my bed at this point and not part of that conversation, but had a good laugh about it anyway.
Enough for now, but remind me, if I don't tell you later, about why I have a shiner on my left eye. No, not domestic abuse, something much less interesting.