I forgot to pimp Friday’s Foaming Rant over at VeloNews.
The wind was really gusting now, driving the light drizzle like birdshot, but I was protected from the worst of it, even on the southbound leg of my impromptu ‘cross course. I got one, two, three laps in – “This is gonna work out just right,” I smirked to myself – and then the real deal hit, blasts of sand, water and wind like something out of the Old Testament. Chastened, I beat it for home, a rooster tail of murky water from the rear wheel striping my backside like a lash.
Which is why he gets paid for this crap and I don’t.