There is No Do, Only Try
Sorry - I would have blogged sooner, but I was in France. They haven't any internets in France - I had to skim a paper newspaper just to figure out who "hid the magic in the flapjacks," so to speak. My French is poor, so ne'er did I stoop to discover why Etienne Rogers held up Le Eleven-Seven with le fly swatter, and I couldn't follow the story about the barren holstein with the revolver in the garden of Mlle de Pgogné.
When I wasn't busy studying the newspaper, I was following the Tour de France on my 1988 Trek. My bike has no wheels, so I had to drag it behind me with a rope as I raced after the peloton on foot; when I forded a river I held my bike above my head - the seat had fallen off at that point, so I had no choice. Later I spotted a truck full of hay and I hurled my bike into the truck bed, but then the truck sped off and I was left in a cloud of dust with no bicycle to drag behind me. I am sorry to say that I gave up entirely after one day. Couldn't keep up on foot, and the locals pelted me with rotten fruit and at every opportunity.
When I wasn't busy studying the newspaper, I was following the Tour de France on my 1988 Trek. My bike has no wheels, so I had to drag it behind me with a rope as I raced after the peloton on foot; when I forded a river I held my bike above my head - the seat had fallen off at that point, so I had no choice. Later I spotted a truck full of hay and I hurled my bike into the truck bed, but then the truck sped off and I was left in a cloud of dust with no bicycle to drag behind me. I am sorry to say that I gave up entirely after one day. Couldn't keep up on foot, and the locals pelted me with rotten fruit and at every opportunity.
6 Comments:
I was in France too! But I didn't see you. Are you sure you were in the right place? Perhaps you were in Luxembourg by mistake. It happens
No, I'm sure it was France. Maybe you didn't recognize me because I was wearing a new hat.
Did an unshaven brute in a beret and striped shirt play the accordion for you? I couldn't throw a brick without hitting one of those fellows the last time i was in France. Of course, I only throw bricks when trying to batter French fellows with berets and striped shirts. Is Gillette not a French word? Shave, you bastards!
Bring your one-woman peleton to Oregon, please. We have rotten fruit going to waste.
Huh! That's the french for y'. Bastards.
Have you by any chance been guest-blogging for Just-You-Know-Who? Because his last 2 posts sound dangerously unbalanced. I mean that kindly & caringly
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