Oh man, beautiful day today, 59 degrees, sunny, no wind...the kind of day that says to a person with a bike You must ride.
So we geared up, with no particular place to go, just an intent to pick a direction and go. I stuffed tiny little speakers into my helmet and started up my iPod with my bike, and was rocking to American Idiot, anticipating a wonderful 40-50 mile ride through the back roads of Solano County. We have some wicked nice back roads, too.
The Spouse Thingy let his bike warm up a bit, and then indicated he was ready to roll, so I put my bike in gear and headed down the road.
We were gonna zoooooooom.
Ya know what? A really heavy leather jacket rubbing on a 3 day old tattoo is kind of uncomfortable. We got to the stop sign half a block away and I told him I wasn't sure...got less than half a mile away and realized I could do it, but it wasn't going to be any fun. So I made a U-turn and headed home, the Spouse Thingy putt-putting behind me.
We went to a movie instead.
Oh yeah, that's how bad ass a biker I am. My jacket rubbed my intentional owie, and I ran home.
But think about it, just how bad ass can a fat middle-aged woman with a Disney character etched into her skin really be?
Apparently, not very... Heh.
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