It has been almost two months since I ever so gracefully cart-wheeled down the basement stairs in my wife’s pink robe.  I had my first shoulder surgery in December and go back in February for an evaluation for the second one.  I feel a lot better that I did and really NEED to get on one of my bikes.  It was sunny and warm this past weekend and I was shaking like a crackhead eyeing a fresh pipe, just thinking about taking a spin around the neighborhood.  Laurel said “nuh-uh!” and I spent some serious time staring out the window like a kid with chickenpox watching his buddies play baseball – pouty bottom lip and furred brow included.

I am going for a little clandestine “test” ride this weekend if I can sneak out of the house, single-speed in tow, without getting caught by the wife.  If she finds out I am planning to ride AMA, then all bets are off and I will likely get to mop and do dishes all weekend.  Now, if she catches me AFTER the ride, we that is a whole different story.  Then, at least I will be guilty of something and will smile as I wash and scrub, thinking about peddling.  Better forgiveness than permission.