After riding my antique road bike on Friday, the very next day I did virtually the same ride on my A. Homer Hilsen:
In so doing, what I discovered is that I’m faster on the Litespeed, but I’m more comfortable on the Rivendell.
Now that’s what you call a mind-blowing revelation.
Meanwhile, the Touring of France is well underway, and by now everybody knows what happened on Stage 1:
The suspect is still at large:
The spectator at the origin of this accident left the scene before the arrival of the investigators. She was wearing glasses and blue jeans, a red and white striped sweater, a yellow jacket (waxed). She is holding a sign bearing the inscription “ALLEZ OPI-OMI!”
And French authorities have put their best man on the job:
The red and white sweater is of course the obvious clue, so police may want to start by rounding up this crew:
Also, the fact that the jacket was waxed means they should probably bring Grant Petersen in for questioning:
While the jacket may not look like anything Rivendell currently sells, the fact is the guy moves a lot of waxed cotton, and some say that on the streets there isn’t a square inch of the stuff that changes hands without Old Man Petersen getting a taste.
Then of course there’s the sign:
I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that she’s probably not still holding the sign, though I guess we can’t rule out the possibility she’s as dumb as she looks. (I realize that suggesting someone in waxed cotton looks dumb could get me in big trouble with Grant Petersen, who will no doubt now send someone in sandals to break my thumbs.) We should also probably consider the possibility that she’s changed signs, and even now she could be en route (as the French say) to Texas:
Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s moving to Texas.
Finally, speaking of Opi and Omi, this morning I put on my flip-flops and headed out on my designer Omafiets:
If I may subtly direct your attention to the right-hand margin of this blog (or else the bottom of it if you’re reading this on a cellular telephone or other mobile device), you happen to be in the right place at the right time to score yourself a sweet deal on some canvas bar tape:
And I should probably get myself some too, since I often use the bare portions of this bar and they’re crying out for cloth tape like my grimy toes are calling out for a pedicure:
See that? Reading this blog practically pays for itself.