Wired Cola

So, as part of my ongoing attempt to recover from EFS (excessive fat syndrome: it can be cured!), I decided to do a mountain bike race out at Buntzen Lake.

Circumstances being what they were, I chose to ride there, since it's only 8km from my house. Can't beat that!

I rode the 12 km from work to home, fed the pets, changed into my race gear and grabbed my mountain bike, then rode to Buntzen Lake.

It's mostly uphill.

I hardly ever do read-and-rip commentaries on other articles, but here I am doing two in one day. Victim the second: Richard Ginelli. He thinks that Vladimir Horowitz' special piano is analgous to Barry Bonds' steroid use.

Apparently I missed the part where piano concerts had become a competitive sport.

As Wired Cola's Director of Security, Erick, will attest, I am nearly innumerate.

As just about everybody who knows me will attest, I hardly ever ride a bicycle or motorcycle without a helmet. I have my reasons, but after reading the numbers in this article about motorcycle fatality rates in Florida, I'm beginning to wonder about how compelling the case for helmets is.

Let me put it this way: during my morning bicycle commute, I rode over a diesel fuel spill, slid and fell going around the next corner, and rashed myself up on my arm and leg enough to justify a trip to the first aid attendant at work.

That was, at best, about the fifth-worst thing that happened this week. If I think about it carefully, it might not even rank that high.

The dog has been crazy, I have three dysfunctional lawn mowers in my back yard, and let's not even get into the trip to the hospital that was the culmination of a thoroughly unpleasant experience.