It was a beautiful day here in the trailer park. And since there were no major backups at the sewage plant and everything flowed as scheduled, I decided to take a break from my mayoral duties and go for a bicycle ride to relieve some stress.
I had painted some flames on the side of my old Schwinn, so that if I passed any chicks, they would think I’m cool. And it gives me a great feeling of pride to be riding the coolest bicycle in town.
Even as a child, I enjoyed riding bicycles. I suppose the hardest part of learning to ride my bike was learning about “the pavement”. I still have some scars from those years, but I never let the fear of getting scars stop me from doing anything. After all, I have been married three times.
There’s a nice bike trail near here that used to be where the old rail road tracks were, so I figured I would start out there. As I was riding north on the trail, some guy and his wife on a tandem bike, flew past me. He was pedaling like hell, and she was yelling something at him at the top of her voice. I’m not sure if she was talking in tongues or what, but I couldn’t make out anything of what she was saying. But she sure was going on and on!
I kept riding and about two miles further, I saw the woman lying alongside the trail. I stopped, and asked if she was all right. She Yelled,
“I fell off the damn bike! Can you stop that nut and send him back after me”?
So I kicked my flaming Schwinn into high gear and high-tailed it after her husband. He was at least three miles ahead of me. When I got alongside of him I said, “Hey buddy, perhaps you didn’t notice, but your wife fell off about three miles back.”
He replied, “Oh, thank God! I was afraid that I had gone deaf.”