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Yer Pal,
R A N T W I C K
Hey, Wait! I almost forgot to wish all of my fellow Canucks a Happy Thanksgiving! I know I'm thankful as hell for a great many things. Here's hoping that you are too. Also, turkey sandwiches are the BEST.
No, that is not my butt. Those are the massive air intakes of a Harrier jump jet. My cargo shorts, however, do not come equipped with Pegasus turbofan engines, and so do not allow me to hover or propel me forward even at the Harrier's somewhat mediocre sub-sonic speeds. If they did, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this nonsense, but instead be hovering and blasting around town impressing the hell out of everyone. No, I think perhaps this picture better conveys how cargo shorts feel to me now:
Talk about hopeless wind bags!
I am feeling very conflicted about wind. I used to windsurf quite a lot, and in those days I loved every and any kind of wind, because I knew I could use it one way or another. These days, however, I find myself both blessing and cursing the wind as it helps me or hurts me while riding my bike. Here in London Ontario (where windsurfing won't be happening, by the way) the prevailing winds are West or Northwest, it seems to me, with some nice variations in Spring and Fall. As such, as I ride eastward to work in the morning I most often enjoy a tailwind, and on my way home I can usually count on lower speeds and more work as I battle a headwind. Wind is the primary reason that I have drop bars on my bike... I spend most of my time with my hands on the brake hoods, but it is good to be able to really hunker down when riding into the wind.
In thinking about wind I have come up with a hypothetical that I would like to conduct a poll on. Here it is:
I'm winded. See you next time...