My pal HJ is visiting from Montana -- just when the ice is setting up in Hyalite Canyon, but he can't climb yet anyway due to recently having a benign tumor taken out of his big toe -- so we jumped on a couple of my bikes and barhopped around town. The rub, though, was that HJ could not afford to dump on any incidental ice, he was already out $5K on the toe surgery, and toe re-surgery was not in his plans, so that meant me decommissioning the cross bike officially for the season, installing regular-person pedals, and putting the studs back on, and I took it for a run down the alley. Over the summer, I always forget how studs feel and sound like velcro, and in the spring, when I take them off, I feel the way I did when I got my braces off at age 15 -- my lips no longer distended by brackets and hooks and wires and whatnot, but smooth and natural the way God intended. This thought provoked HJ to tell me he had a girlfriend once with a half-dozen piercings on her woman-parts, which wasn't as sexy as it sounds. "Walking around in her underwear," he said, "she looked like a bag of nails from the hardware store."
An Amusement & Diversion for The Genteel Cyclist. Daily.