The Big Daddy rides his bike back and forth to work every day, and has for many years. On the weekends, he rides early in the morning with a group of guys who call themselves The Gravy Train. I think it’s because their wives are so frickin’ awesome their life is GRRRRRRRavy. This is the fast ride. A Hard 40. The Shawshank Redemption.
It never fails that if we are out socializing on a Friday or Saturday night, The Big Daddy will say, “Yeah, I’m doin’ 40 in the morning.” And nobody ever knows what he’s talking about. This causes him to thump his chest and say, “40 miles. 6:30. With The Gravy Train.” Which leads to lots of oohs and aahs. As if a monkey couldn’t ride a bike.
I’ve decided to play that BD at his own game. Now when we leave a party, I say, “Yeah, I’m doing 10 tomorrow. Maybe 12.” And when people ask me what that means, I say, “Sentences. 10:30. Ish. Sweats. Chair with wheels.” However, if I was over-served by the hosts the night before, I write in fragments that I count as a sentence cuz I put a period at the end. Like this.
I swear I can hear a little gasp, as if people are so impressed with me they can’t form a word. It might be a choke, but I’m pretty sure it’s the Awe Factor.
