In preparation for our Portland to San Diego Tour I had to make some upgrades to my bike. The basic stuff: cranks, lights, a front bag, blah blah blah.
But today I received my Yak trailer and for some reason I feel like it's Christmas. Instead of running home, sitting on the couch and watching the Biggest Loser, which by the way is as addicting to me as food is to the contestants, I ran home and tore open my box and opened it like it held the holy grail. If light would have shot out and illuminated the room I wouldn't have been surprised in the least.
I started slow, carefully inspecting all of the parts as it was a new born baby. Then I turned to the bright yellow waterproof bag and visualized the trailer with all of my gear strapped in.
Next was the flag. Currently it says Bob. Wow, not at all exciting enough for a 1,500 mile tour through mountains, rainy days and bike lanes to small to hold a family of ducks. As I sit in ah of my new purchase, I day dream of people passing me saying, "Is that a pirate flag?" "Does that flag say, 'don't kill me'?" "Share the road" or "If you can read this, back the fuck up."
But all of this is fine and dandy and I think even reasonable. But when I started to read the instructions, I knew I was going overboard. "Honey, those brownies you cooked yesterday, are they "normal?" What the hell is going on with me. For me to read the instructions is comparable to me holding in my gas or doing dishes on a regular basis. If there are pictures, I am a cave man and I can understand anything. But not today, my friends, today this is serious stuff for serious people and I will fill out the warranty with pride.
But today I received my Yak trailer and for some reason I feel like it's Christmas. Instead of running home, sitting on the couch and watching the Biggest Loser, which by the way is as addicting to me as food is to the contestants, I ran home and tore open my box and opened it like it held the holy grail. If light would have shot out and illuminated the room I wouldn't have been surprised in the least.
I started slow, carefully inspecting all of the parts as it was a new born baby. Then I turned to the bright yellow waterproof bag and visualized the trailer with all of my gear strapped in.
Next was the flag. Currently it says Bob. Wow, not at all exciting enough for a 1,500 mile tour through mountains, rainy days and bike lanes to small to hold a family of ducks. As I sit in ah of my new purchase, I day dream of people passing me saying, "Is that a pirate flag?" "Does that flag say, 'don't kill me'?" "Share the road" or "If you can read this, back the fuck up."
But all of this is fine and dandy and I think even reasonable. But when I started to read the instructions, I knew I was going overboard. "Honey, those brownies you cooked yesterday, are they "normal?" What the hell is going on with me. For me to read the instructions is comparable to me holding in my gas or doing dishes on a regular basis. If there are pictures, I am a cave man and I can understand anything. But not today, my friends, today this is serious stuff for serious people and I will fill out the warranty with pride.
No comments:
Post a Comment