Tubes and Moustaches

Yesterday The Pie and I took the day off to spend it together. This was an unprecedented event precipitated by the ponderous absence of both our youts. We went down to the home town of the greatest, most bombastic bike distributor warehouse in the world, Columbia, SC to hop in a couple of innertubes and float down a river. I'm sure the local Hoffencharders will let me know just how disgusting the locals think the river is, but I assure you I kept my mouth closed and my anus puckered the whole time. The entire entubed trip was supposed to last around three hours, but through the inefficient efforts of my paddling I cut the time down to 1.5 hours and ended up abrading my elbow pits on the tube in attempt to take the "lazy" out of the river. I think I see a market for Stan here: Stan's No-Innertubes river trips... I guess some might just call that swimming... whatever.

I did not ride a bike all day. In fact I barely touched a bike at all aside from replacing the grips on the Meatplow for the fourth time in what feels like the last four weeks. As the kids say, the bike is "dialed"... well except the wheels. They are currently in Asheville, or in a box on their way back to me already. Exciting things are happening, and you too shall be in on the secret soon enough. When it is all said and done and the staggering folks are coupling up at closing time I will be putting another fashionable trend to rest by including myself amongst the throngs of lemmings that jump and say "How high?" whenever there's a new wave to ride to the beach of cool just because someone with a marketing degree knows we have the propensity to drop everything just to stay on the cutting edge of every absolutely fabulous fad.

No one rides this moustache for free.