Cabin fever shouldn't happen in November. Then again, November in Anchorage shouldn't involve bare ground. I'm gettin' itchy for some time on the snow bike. Hell, I'm gettin' itchy for time on any bike.
I finally put the studs on my old Stumpjumper and bagged a rare (these days) commute to work this morning. Then I rode to Blockbuster tonight to return some DVDs. I had to get some ride time before I lost my mind. I caught myself glancing at the rifles in a sporting good store last weekend, and I've taken a strange interest in the rooftops of tall buildings.
(Note to the CIA and Homeland Security spooks who are scanning the Internet for references to rifles and rooftops: I was just kidding. Go spy on the foreigners, you dipshits.)
My winter bikes are ready and my light batteries are charged up. I'm ready to sneak out for some nocturnal trail time.
Let's start burning voodoo dolls, doing snow dances, whatever it takes.
Bring on the snow, dammit.
5 comments:
Watch those references to foreigners, buddy!
Maybe torching up a few VooDoo Dolls in the Frigid Bits Burn Barrel, or on GrillZilla might get some snow blowing across the landscape. My chamios's are drying out, I'm getting itchy too.
Grill Meister
Becca, perhaps I haven't mentioned my beer-and-back-bacon 9/11 conspiracy theory ...
Dang, yer on to us, eh?
Here! Here!
I'm doing my snow dance as I type.
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