What do people think of when they think France, *and* when they think of people who ride a lot of miles on le machine – the bicycle?
Food! Lots of food. Lots of good food. Yum yum yum. If anyone knows me, I can put it down and Mezcal back home has a special place in my heart for their dollar taco after ten and after a 100 mile ride: the looks on the waiters is one – not of surprise or amazement, but of seaching, searching to see if I’m drunk – if what I’m ordering is some heroic feat, put on by the gratuitous tasting of
But, no no no – it’s more that I don’t want myself to eat… myself and the price of the tacos is a price I can stomach.
There’s a bastardized quote, filtered through a few generations of people that says something like, “You only own what you carry on your back at a good pace”. It was first attributed (the idea at least) basically to Hobbes. I think.
I hope you gals/guys like silly ride stories accompanied with GIGANTIC pictures about going in a really big circle, because this is one of those really silly ride stories, about how I managed to get up Mt. Evans on a Fixed Geared Bicycle.