My improvised rain coat. I think I got a few chuckles from staff driving home--obviously I work at the Desert San--quite possibly in the laundry department?
It rained cats and dogs as I was leaving, but the bike path was dry.
Rain coat gets too hot, so I stow it just in case I need it once more.
Wow--everything is like green and junk.
So I was to get a lift home from Bev--but last minute she says she can't fetch me. Why not, she says, I meet her at a place to eat called Sweet Tomatoes. It's near the bike route home and I can be there by 5:30. I ask Bev to bring me some shorts and a tee-shirt, and I've already got sandals in the car--okay, it's a date.
Bev bought me some really dorky looking shorts and tee-shirts awhile back (on sale--I never wear them) and of course she brought those along. I stripped down to the bib shorts and converted to idiot-looking man in these ridiculous looking Arnold Palmer lizard-gizzard yellow golf shorts, and some kind of pea-green shirt.
The shorts were too big so I had to hold them up with one hand, while carrying my tray of food with the other. The place was kind of buffet style and all-you-can-eat. I went back for seconds and while waiting my turn for a dinner roll, the shorts fell down to my ankles. I quick pulled them back up. It appeared nobody noticed. I walked back to our table--clear across the place, a spot so I could see my bike out the window. I pretended that nothing had happened--that my shorts hadn't fallen down--again, no one gave me a second look.
No one said to themselves, "Hey, I know that cat--he rides for Ropa Sucia!"
Cheers! Bruce
2 comments:
Your old man, golf shorts are falling down in public and you want to race us on dumpster bikes?
Alrighty, then.
And you want to be my latex salesman?
Ta ta.
Ry
Hahahahaha! Your shorts fell down in Sweet Tomatoes, that's some funny shit. I wish I was there to see that. Of course it also means you've lost a ton of weight. Gotta get lean for that nightmare called Cochise. Ride one brethren, ride on.
Stef
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