My hands are resting on the hoods of Chinese brake levers bolted to a Japanese handlebar wrapped in Chinese bar tape clamped into a Japanese stem (25.4 bro) quilled into a Japanese steer tube one-inch-threaded into a Japanese frame on a Japanese fork bolted to an Italian hub laced with double butted Swiss spokes to a French rim floating on 112 psi in a Chinese tube within a German Tire.
My feet are in Italian shoes with Chinese cleats clipped into Japanese pedals threaded onto Japanese cranks (175 of course) bolted to a Chinese square taper bottom bracket spinning a Polish chainring (130 bcd bro) pulling a Chinese chain driving a jury-rigged seven speed cluster of Japanese cogs and Italian spacers on a Japanese free hub body and hub laced with Swiss spokes and big brass nipples to an Australian rim rolling a Chinese tube pumped up inside a French tire creating a cute little contact patch to match the German up front.
My ass is hovering above an Italian saddle clamped to a Japanese seat post (27.2 dude) inserted into a Japanese frame.
I’m picking up road vibrations
Dry clean only
don’t ever wash me
someday a real rain will come
and bring the smell out
old wet dog wool sweater
150,000 miles and counting
still wearing that thing
I'm all wet
and dehydrated
my shoes don’t match my bag
You smell that
in this economic environment
just a hint of vomit
wouldn’t be prudent
cutting corners clipping coupons
what were you thinking
Retreating
pick up slack
ipecac
drop off suspicious package
corned beef conspicuous cabbage
sauerkraut swiss cheese
dark rye dill pickle horse radish
Reuben Pilderwasser had a son named Hirsch
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