Pain Can Be Controlled – You Just Disconnect It

“Pain can be controlled – you just disconnect it.” (The writers of “The Terminator” must have been cyclist with dialogue like that.)

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.

Besides getting to work, I wanted to use this mornings commute as a recovery ride of sorts. 11.22 non-aggressive miles. Before I left the house, I fixed myself a cup of Pete’s French Roast and 3 fried eggs. I indulged and used butter. Olive oil is preferable for health, but nothing beats a patty of butter. I looked around the kitchen like one of those guilt ridden commercial moms who feign decadence in front of their mom friends as they eat fat-free Yo-plait and consumed my eggs.

For some dumb reason I turned on the television before I finished getting ready. The Terminator was on. I love science fiction, so I was destined to watch Schwarzenegger at his best and most revealing role. He captured the essence of a soulless machine with only one objective which is as the title of the movie states; terminator. He fucked up California pretty good to. I couldn’t lap all of that up and still make it to work in a untimely manner, so I watched the car chase in the parking garage. No computer generated anything. Just a couple of stuntmen hopped up on coke pointing shotguns at one another and blasting away. That’s Hollywood! Side note: Why did a killing machine have to rent out an SRO for a night? That scene took away some of the “ballsyness” of the character.

I left the house, totally juiced on seeing Arnold. The roads were emptier. This is good. I don’t have to jockey for a few scraps of road. I’m no Einstein or even the guy that organized his underwear drawer, but I know that if I am in a vehicle that touts a height of 20ft, I probably won’t clear a light post that stands at 19ft. Bad truck, bad truck. The road is blocked up with traffic. Being able to hop onto a sidewalk has it’s advantages. I ride a few blocks further down into Paterson. I look over to right and see a guy that is the spitting image of Warner Brothers, “THE CRUSHER!!! What’s the likelihood of seeing a Tex Avery creation on a run of the mill commute. Life is.

That’s All Folks…

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