Dodging the Draft

I am not referring to being drafted into serving in the military here. Though if for some reason chicks had to do this you can bet your sweet ass I would avoid that. God bless America. I respect our soldiers but that is some crazy shit I am so not up for. But I am off track here. Suck it, that's how I roll...

Surprise, surprise, I rode with my bike club today. We only rode about 22 miles. Tomorrow I am going to try to ride 62 miles (option for 100 but I think my cooch would boycott and jump off my seat if I tried to pull that shit.). There is a nifty little trick bicycle riders play, called "drafting". It is when you ride up close and personal to another cyclist. And I mean CLOSE. The trick is that whoever is on front catches most of the wind, thus letting you ride downwind, in the draft. But as much as I would love to be close enough to you to smell the padding in your ass-a-licious bike shorts, I just have a hard time doing it. See I have this fear that my spastic biking skills will cause me to clip the tire of whoever is riding in front of me, causing either them or me to go toppling down into the gravel at an alarming velocity. Scares the SHIT out of me. I have fallen in stand-still stopping situations only. (Laugh if you will, I have now seen enough seasoned cyclists do this to know I am not a tard on two wheels.) I have been kindly reminded to "Ride the draft!!" when I am in a group. I rode in Michigan and one of the guys said it is all about trust. I told him it's not that I don't trust the other riders, I don't trust myself. Maybe you are thinking there are much more important things in life to lament. There are, I know. I am simply saving those for another blog post.

So if you are thinking of me at all, say a little prayer that I will survive this ride tomorrow. I wasn't planning on it but now I think I can do it. I am even going to go buy a new seat, one for ladies called the Liberator. (Yes, this is also the name of those sex position pillows you see in the back on Maxim Magazine. But those are a bitch to try to fasten to a bike.) I might even buy a bike jersey so I look like the real deal. I know why people wear them for real---so they don't get bugs in their titties. I usually just wear a sports bra and tank top. I noticed some lumps after a particularly buggy ride one day. I looked inside my shirt to see a mess of flies, gnats, and other bugs, all dead and sweat-encrusted to my chest. So sick and wrong. A jersey, as over-priced as it is, will keep me from being a human titty bug zapper. I have my padded shorts and the undershorts as well. The brand is called Andiamo! (yes, there is an exclamation mark in the name). I think Andiamo! means "Vagina Savior" in Italian. Maybe not but I'm, going with that. Off to get my Liberator. Wish me luck. If you see me limping next week, kindly congratulate me and do not laugh. I might be carrying my pussy in a cart next to me as I walk.