I may be getting ready for Breck....

but Breck is not ready for me.

When word got out that the two riders who dominated the back 1/5 of the single speed field were returning with a vengeance, the townspeople of Breckenridge fled.

Yes, Peter and I were stinking up the place in 2010, and we have no intentions of doing any less of a funk job in 2011. Word of the destructive battle royale for DFL in the single speed class was spread via the town crier (not to be confused with the Jon Cryer), and as women wept at the missed opportunity to catch a glimpse of the glistening warriors and children sobbed knowing that the real men of might who they pretend to be on the playground at recess would be close enough to smell, the men folk snatched them all up and carried them away in their Landcruisers to a distant place where their marriage's fidelity and children's respect could be kept in tact. Fjear was rampant in the streets, and everything not nailed down was packed up and taken to the Walmart parking lot in Frisco in a mass exodus.

On my end, the packing has begun.

No sooner had I laid out my handwear did I receive a fluffy, padded package. I have friends in high places.

I also know Thad.

Thad has very nice Harry Potter stationary, and there is no shame to that man's game.

What did the gentleman from Tennessee and former PMBAR teammate send me via the current US and future Haliburton Postal System?

Giro Rivet gloves
minimal to no padding
color: so-pro white

What a friend. I almost feel bad for not having him be my partner at the 2011 PMBAR. Almost, but not quite. I used up what feelings I had watching Sleepless in Seattle back in 1993. Now I am an empty shell that's devoid of human emotions, just a dancing machine from Hell.