fundamentals of manliness

This ambiguous piece of metal in my hand is a device I’ve been using on my bike to give it a little more go for less go on my part. It’s about the most rudimentary mo-ped you can get. This afternoon I dismantled it from my mountain bike to prepare it for the Cohutta Springs Triathlon on Sunday (me using a motor for the triathlon would justafiably result in me getting run off the road). I got greasy and smelled like gasoline and the sun burnt my neck while I was trying unsuccessfully not to de-thread the screws holding my bike in the glorified weedwacker’s jaws. Being a terrifyingly independent American girl, I had to chuckle at my new step in the direction of self-sufficiency. That would be step number six-tampering with a motorized apparatus that afterwards leaves you smelling like gasoline. That’s right after steps four and five-investing in a cordless drill and setting up your own surround sound system for the DVD player in the living room. Oh well, at any rate, afterward I promptly went into the kitchen and cooked a casserole to cleanse and purify.