a fools guide to surviving uncertain journeys

better safe than soiled.

Typically, I love to begin the day in a solid way. I like to plant my feet solidly on the floor then place my arse solidly onto the toilet seat.

Then?

Things ideally stay fairly firm.

Whether it’s my calendar or the little baby trump that I leave behind, I hope things are firm without being too solid.

This morning I was faced by the back side of a back to back fifty mile ride.

I rode out to Lake Charlotte yesterday. Today, I planned on riding back.

My scheduled departure time was a bit mushy. My little baby Trump - the small offering to the porcelain god?

It was a bit of a more-man - Jesus Christ! A splattered, sprayed taint.

It’s difficult to know exactly when to leave when what you’re leaving in the lav is looser than the screws that currently run ‘Merica. How do you risk four or more hours in the saddle when there’s a chance that you’ll end up with a deep leg bitumen spill?

Dear reader, there is crease grease and there is crease grease but this morning? I was pushing tar sands to the point that I could have been claimed as part of Alberta. I was at risk that Syncrude might attempt to make my arsehole even deeper.

I could go on but that may result in that harpie Danielle Smith separating herself from her ugly.

In short dear reader, the day did not begin well.

It took me about two and a half hours to pass peak oil. With the remnants of the Exxon Valdez cleared away, I was on my way.

For the first couple of hours things were pretty uneventful. I had my emergency latrine kit just in case. Luckily it was never put to use.

Dutifully, I spun my way through Musquodoboit Harbour, Gaetz Brook and East Chezzetcook. Stopping for lunch in Grand Desert, everything was fine.

Lunch, though tasty didn’t sit well with me. It stirred up memories of the morning. The weather took a turn and imitated my stomach. Dark storm clouds rolled in.

Was a storm brewing?

Would I make it home dry?

Doubt swirled in my mind and stomach like the storm clouds overhead.

Somewhere, just before Three Fathom Harbour Road, it began to shower. Pressure in my guts ballooned. I clenched, tucked, sucked and puckered, using every trick in the book to not belch loudly from my anus.

I was on shaky ground, uncertain and worried about making it home without leaving a new pair of chamois shorts tucked under a rock for a dog to roll in.

Now many people when on shaky ground go slow. Others still? They push. They push and hope for the best.

But this fool?

As a regular reader, you of course know that this fool has far too often pushed when he should have sucked, expanded when he should have tucked.

But most of those self soiling circumstances took place closer to home. I was likely less tired and there was less at stake. It’s find to push limits whether physical, social, emotional OR gastral intestinal when there’s fresh undies and a shower near by.

After riding over a hundred and thirty kilometers with thirty to go before getting home?

It’s no place to sprint or break out into any sort of runs.

Slow and steady wins the race.

At Lawrencetown beach I reached the one operating outhouse. Though built in a traditional shed roof saltbox style, I saw the damn thing as more of a lighthouse, a beacon of deliverance from myself.

Once inside, I dropped my pants and plopped down on the plastic throne.

Dear reader, given how built up the pressure was, I would have liked to have had a seatbelt.

No. The pressure was bigger than that.

I needed a three point formula one racing harness.

Hell, they could have welded my arse to the can and I still may have blasted off to join Lonny the Musk-rat on his Mars mission…

Mission control, this is Jimmy, all systems are cleared.

Jimmy, this is mission control, begin launch sequence in five, four, three, two, one BLAST OFF!

With one giant push I let it rip.

And the result?

Completely dry.

I was full of hot air.

It was all sound without any fury.

In retrospect?

I’m pretty glad that I waited.

I tend to push.

But today?

It was better to be safe than soiled.

Stay foolish my fiends.