from a sore saddle to walking shoes blues

on cheating in a gust of wind

I have a confession to make.

I didn’t entirely ride my bike for 100 miles.

Along the way I had a bit of an indiscretion.

No dear reader, I did not fellatiate my bicycle. That would have been greasy, gritty and muddy.

I did however have a small cheat.

Let me explain.

The wind was in our faces for the first half of the ride mocking us.

At seventy kilometers in we were in the wide open. There were fields as far as they eye could see.

But given how hard the wind was blowing I couldn’t see much through my watering eyes.

I did know we were climbing a hill.

A gust came up and knocked me off the road and clean off my bike.

I took the opportunity to walk for a few minutes.

Dear reader, are you ‘shocked’ by this cheat? What? It’s not like I stook on a moving sidewalk and was pulled by a moped whilst sipping champers from a friggin glass slipper! My arse was on fire and nine one one was no where to be found.

Besides, it was more efficient.

According to my handy dandy bicycle computer, I was moving more quickly walking with my bike that I was while riding it.

But you’re supposed to RIDE one hundred miles.

I don’t know what kind of tight arsed panty squirter always does things they way they are supposed to be done.

I do know that it’s not this fool.

Besides, I spent eleven and a half hours on my bike that day, what’s a little foot shuffling between ‘friends’.

There are some who might discredit or diminish your accomplishments because you didn’t seize the cock ring with the bottle nose of a dolphin or some such bullshit puritanical rule they’ve established.

But when you’re out there performing cunning stunts, don’t worry about the kinds of stunning cunts who love rules.

Just enjoy the ride.