I am finally getting close to being totally packed for my trip from the loving arms of my beloved Atlanta to the highest peak in Africa. Just now I have performed a preliminary packing of my gear into the two bags that will take the trip with me, a process not unlike attempting to wedge my own body into a cycling kit.
A quick look at the web site of the hotel where I will be staying at the base of the mountain reveals that it rents bicycles, which is interesting. I would love to be able to say that I rode a bike on Kilimanjaro, or even just around Tanzanian city streets, but I’m not willing to risk being photographed on anything but a road or a track bike. I have an image to consider, after all. I can’t have the local Tazanian population thinking I am a scrub.
Due to an overload of work requirements which sprang up at the last minute, I was forced to forego my usual Thursday night ride, and it has put me somewhat out of sorts. It could be worse, though. At least I’m not off the bike for weeks because I’ve been shot in the ass on Atlanta public transit.
The good news is, though I was not on my bike tonight, I did get my work engagements all tied up, and I also located another Atlanta cycling blog thanks to the magic of the Great Google Oracle, or “Googlecle” which is a good thing to say loudly if your throat itches and you are handcuffed.
What can I say? Mistakes were made.
As I mentioned before, check back while I’m away for a series of posts that I’ve been working on in secret here in my windowless underground lair. They will be farted automatically onto the internet with all the gusto that this blog can manage, and believe you me, my friends. If there is anything this blog can manage, it is farts with gusto as this YouTube link will illustrate.
Take care of yourselves in my absence, ride safe, and whatever you do, do not go near the velodrome. If I can’t be racing and earning points, no one should be!