Back home at last, I'm looking forward to riding for a few hours in the AM. Maybe it'll be good for a road ride. Perhaps I'm stuck on the trainer. Maybe I'm in the woods trying to hold the back together. Doesn't matter, I'm going to hit it. Tired of classes, tired of riding an exercycle with a horrible seat that only allowed 20 minutes of work before causing stabbing pain. It's going to be on a bike, a real bike. And it's going to be great.
Here's the most appropriate song I could find. I was training up in Shepherdstown this week. For the geographically uninitiated, that's just across the Potomac River, literally, from the Antietam battlefield. Leave it to Clutch to have a song about that spot on the towpath. Which is, BTW, precisely where Maslar's derailer stacked it on our trip down the C&O Canal a couple years ago, and exactly 7 miles north of where Seibold and I unwittingly gave half a leftover berry pie to this knucklehead we'd never met before, Jon Baler.
Good times. Have fun riding this weekend. Wherever you're riding.
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