I had some bad bike mojo go down last weekend. I don't really wanna talk about it, but it seems to be festering and stealing my will to blog. So, I'm gonna talk about it just this once and then it shall never been mentioned again - henceforth and forever more.
Me, Corey and Allen headed out Sunday for a bike trip. There are a number of stupid things that occurred on our adventure, but I'm not talking about all of that. I have not the strength for it. Instead I'll just focus on the main stupidity - believe me its plenty all on its own.
We picked up Allen last. He is new to mountain biking and so he got his first serious bike about a month ago. I strapped his snazzy bike to my snazzy Thule rack - strapped that mutherscratcher up snug as a bug.
We made it all the way to Bethany, Missouri. When we stopped to check a map Allen said, "Um, Brian....we now only have two bikes." Yes, that's right two bikes, three riders.
We drove back to DSM, scanning the highway all the way, then we went back to Bethany, scanning the highway all the way, then we drove back to DSM - ah yeah - scanning the highway all the way. All told, 8 hours on the road looking for the mysterious disappearing ghost bike.
We didn't hear it rattle, didn't see it move, didn't get any drivers honking and pointing.
Apparently, we drove through the Bermuda Triangle for bikes.
Allen bike commutes to work, so his main mode of transportation vanished too.
I feel mad/sad/angry/depressed/embarrassed/wronged/flummoxed and........pissed.
I'm helping Allen out on buying a new bike, but I'm not talking about it anymore.