Please remove your shoes. Snacks are in the kitchen. Help yourself.
What crappy search engine led you here?
I'm about as sure of your reasons for visiting this blog as my reasons for keeping it. So sit.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Pictured is what I'd call a 'Nice Ride', a '55 Bel Air Wagon. It was parked at my local Safeway yesterday. Doubtful if that was a stock color, but jeet sweesus, who cares! Doesn't' it just cry out to be the new Speedvagen Team car?
What I do at lunch is not, however, is not a nice ride. Ya see, I train during my lunch hour. I don't want to train at lunch. I'd rather go to Vik's. I'd rather ride after work. I'd rather come home late and eat dinner on the sofa with my legs up. But such is not my life, so I ride at lunch. Almost without fail, someone will ask as I stink my way back to my office if I had a nice ride. I use to say "Yes". I would tell them what they expected to hear. I use to lie. My rides are never nice. I don't have the hours for 'nice'. Mine are invariably some form of 'ugly'. They range from slightly off-putting to down right Rob Zombie. As a result, my co-workers will no longer ride with me. So I'm alone in my misery, talkin' crazy talk to no one. But I no longer lie.