July 12th, 2010


in which new words for pain are coined

So last night the Miss and I are biking back from Tufts, right, and we take Simpson St, which has one of those towable radar sign carts that tells you you're going [foo] MPH and the limit is 30 MPH1. There was a nice long straight flat clear run up to the thing, so I sprinted on the fixie to see what I could get (252) and she did the same on her 87 lb of squishy-tired comfort bike (18).

It's not-quite-dark, but dark enough that I'd have been running lights if I had managed to replace my last set any time in the last 6 months or so. But no! Nothing goes horribly wrong, we slow down to a mellower pace before hitting Holland St, and head up to Cameron Ave. Nice gentle roll down the hill toward home, and

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Anyway, if anybody wants to come by with margarita inputs and console me on the porch tonight, there's tequila.

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