For those of you who are still stuffing a sock in your undies to enhance your package or have had a unforutnate encounter with the top tube, there is hope. The big news for those who don't keep track was the world's first successful penis transplant in South Africa; still the dream of a detachable penis have yet be achieved. While the rumors are true, and my penis is not currently getting put through its full range of activities, I am hopeful (even if the probability is slim to none) that in the future it might see non micturation action, so as of this time I'm not willing to take one for the team and donate it to a more worthy recipient.
For those who have been told to grow some, you are still out of luck as the transplant only involves the swizzle stick and not the tea bags, the bat and not the balls. In other words just the pecker, peter, dick, stick, prick, tube steak, love rocket, willy, trouser monkey, devils horn, one eyed snake, love machine, staff, cock, dreamsicle, woody, third leg, or the purple headed monster. Not the rocks, stones, nuts, jewels, cojones, or sack.
While reading of last year's ride report, it is clear I sucked just as badly at the beginning of last year, and I'm debating whether I should take solace in the fact that I feel this way at the beginning of every season and this year with my celibacy I should have the opportunity to get in back shape riding Tuesday with Quentin and the roadies, the usual gang on Wednesday, the RML group on Thursday, and with Beau and Caleb on Friday. I was talking to Beau about his Fridays where his usual loop leaves his house, takes the backroads to the Gold Camp side of Coyote Coulee, then to Lick Creek and back Old Darby Rd for 30+ miles. Not that I really have much to to Friday nights, but I think that might leave me a bit fatigued for any weekend fun time. Maybe I'll let Beau just lap me.
The premature departure of the sun reminded us that we were here three weeks earlier than last year. Still with the relatively short evenings we managed 7.5 miles and 2000' vertical. I had a vague recollection that the last few descents were on the steep side, but I had forgotten that they were that puckering. Finally two days later my sphincter has relaxed enough to allow me to crap. Despite a few spills and headers, no blood was spilled.