I needed to test my crotches durability so on Saturday I rode a good flat 80 miles. It’s sound, but could be better as could most of my weathered parts. There will come a day when I can just pick one from Wall-Mart, but until that day comes, there’s Advil and duct tape…

I run into all types in the store. Those that haven’t ridden in years, those that look like they haven’t ridden in years and those who are about to embark on their first voyage into the world of biking. Sales is an art form. Because no two customers are identical, the spiel has to be adjusted to fit the moment. Not every customer appreciates humor or as it may seem much else in life, but for that moment in time, I crawl beneath that cloud with them. I’m a sales guy, not a therapist. After that moment has passed, I wring out and move on to the next. The guy that sounds like he knows where a few bodies are buried gets specialized attention as well. I grew up in Jersey. My mob may be a little rusty, but my diction is still pretty sound…

After making the wise decision of charging my light as opposed to my Garmin, I head out into the dark of Paterson, NJ. I wasn’t always that smart. I record all of my commute miles. I’m quite anal about this and pretty much nothing else in my life. I’ve ridden with the only light being illuminated coming in the form of my Garmin display. Not smart, but I never said that I was. Strava…

My panniers always change my mood for the better, even with the extra drag they create. In combination with the flat pedals I’ve resorted to, riding’s become really fun again and not just another reason to wear really tight clothing. I highly advise riding with flats if you feel as though your in a rut or you need to work on your technique…

All good rides be them of the club, training, racing or just plain chilling variety, always start the night before. I began rummaging through my assortment of Lycra possibilities. It had been so long, that I sat back and looked at what I actually planned to go out in public in and gave pause. Skin tight pants, a giant bowl on my head and glasses with lens that rivaled those of senior citizens with light-sensitive eyes. If I had any plans on seeking glory this year, I was going to have to let appearances go…

It happens to every person that’s ever turned a pedal. When you’re younger, you have no idea of the concept, yet you still experience a feeling of loss. Getting dropped is almost as traumatic as being separated from your mom in the mall…

2013 got off to a bang and then my small intestine shot out of my groin. “No more monkey’s jumping on the bed”. Coming to grips with my mortality; sober, has not been a pleasant adventure. I knew that I wasn’t the rider I was and was kinda ok with that. That guy drank nightly and whizzed through traffic without as much as a care for his own safety. Pick up a package that needs to be 3 miles away, in 15 minutes, traffic lights, cars and pedestrians be damned. I didn’t even need a chamois or the Chamois Cream of the Gods “Chamois Butter” to ride, whereas now I am addicted to the viscosity free ride it gives me…

…I pulled into a bagel spot on Broad and Van Houten in Clifton. I turned off all my flashy “don’t hit me” stuff and walked in the door. Nothing worse than having your ass flashing amongst a group of surly fellows.

I saw a woman at the counter. Not “drop-dead” gorgeous, but definitely comatose worthy. The shop was filled with guys. Young guys. She knew she was on display…