Cheez Whiz

I gotta tell ya, guys, this crazy Booger of ours is growing in popularity at such a rate that I'm not sure I can keep up. And before I get started with today's post, let me say this: no matter how high I fly, no matter how great my greatness becomes, I will always remember all three of you guys and don't worry, as soon as I get the Pulitzer I'll send you autographed photos of me hauling ass to the South of France where me and George Clooney and Johnny Depp will sort out All the Trouble In the World and ride bicycles.

Disclaimer

As the Trailer Park Cyclist, I am required by the UCI to mention “bicycles” at least once per post. I asked and was informed in a personal letter from Pat McQuaid that no, I can't say “bicycle” four times in one post and make it count for four posts, so there ya go.

“There who goes?” You probably are asking yourselves. Well, you. There you go.

What am I talking about? Who knows? But back to the Booger...

Jared Is A Drug Addled Bully

I strongly dislike bullies. They come in all shapes and sizes and after High School, they take on a darker and more insidious form. In our little corner of reality, bicycle cycling, they can be particularly foul. For example:

Bathroom Scale:   “For Pete's sake, get off me. You're killing me! I can't breathe!”

Closet Mirror:        “Do you realize I can't look the other way when you expose yourself like this?                                 

Your Kind-Hearted Friends:    “But what a great personality!”

Fellow Cyclists:       “Good thing Spandex is stretchy.”

So anyway, You Get the Message and you make a brave and well intentioned decision To Do Something About It. But what? What is the answer? If you are like me, you go into the kitchen and get a big slice of cheesecake and a double dip of Ben & Jerry's and you go sit down at the computer to figure it all out. Then it hits you:

Bicycles

“Bicycles! Of course! I used to ride a bicycle all the time when I was a little kid and I was never fat and life was good and that's it! I'll get a bicycle and start riding everyday and I will once again be thin and popular and happy...”

So to celebrate you pop open a bottle of wine and get out some Cheez Whiz and some Ritz Crackers and go back to the computer to shop bicycles and cycling and then the bullying begins in earnest.

Honey,  There's Some Guy With Greasy Hands Sleeping In Our Bed

First you find out that things have changed since you were a Little Kid. Bicycles now cost a month's pay and require a full time mechanic even if you don't have a spare bedroom. If you want to get back into cycling you will have to give all your money to your Local Bike Shop and start sleeping on the couch because Bike Mechanics require quality accommodations. But, being of firm resolve and not willing to be daunted, you take a deep breath and head on out to Walmart, where every problem in the world can be fixed.

(Side note:  Once, while in the South of France drinking wine and eating Cheez Whiz with George and Johnny, we figured out (after the fourth bottle) that the path to World Peace was to build Walmarts in every city in the world. We figured out that is why all these foreigners are so angry at America. They don't have Walmarts.)

So Anyway...

Where was I? Oh...so you get to Walmart and the kid in the bicycle sectiion takes a bike down from the rack to let you see how it feels but the front wheel falls off. He chases it down the bicycle aisle (which is in the toy department) but bangs into a shelf loaded with talking dolls and they all start talking at once. Bedazzled and confused, you give up and wander off to the front of the store and there is a Subway counter there and you get a foot long Meatball Sub and a Diet Coke and sit down to cry. You cry and eat the meatball sub and promise yourself that you won't get up and get one of those Subway Cookies but there they are; there they are and that Jared guy probably was a big liar and really got skinny by shooting meth.

The Truth

The worst bully of all is ourselves. We fear failure and in any effort at joy or self help we tend to seek the Path of Least Resistance and that is okay. Water does it and has been quite successful at doing it for Eons but us, We the Human Beans ain't water, we are a sad and self-loathing race that was created in the image of God and then set about Trashing the Temple as best we can. We can't help it, it is called Being Human and food really tastes good (most of the time) and don't even get me started on Beer. Beer is one of the greatest things on the Planet and if God had not created it one of us Beans would have figured it out. Wine too. And Cheez Whiz and Ritz Crackers.  And Peanut M&M's, with beer. (If I never give you another word of bad advice, sometime try a bowl of Peanut M&M's with beer.)

Back To the Bicycles

Bicycles are a solid and real answer to keeping a fit mind and body but a Bean can go crazy trying to sort it all out. When I started this Booger it was gonna be about my Journey On the Path of Bicycular Enlightenment but somewhere along the way my inescapable Literary Genius took over and danged if I can wrest control from his egotistical hands. But I'm trying and meanwhile I intend to cut back on the drama...wait...give me a minute, the Cops just pulled into the center court. I'll be right back...

Sigh. Okay, it is two hours later and the firetrucks just left and nobody died so where was I? Oh yes...

It Ain't Easy Being Cheesy

The hard part about bicycles is that new ones are pretty costly and the cheap ones at the Big Box are not worth buying. The answer, in my Trailer Park Opinion is to find a used, preferably old bicycle at a yard sale or thrift store and then stop whining and figure out how to fix them yourself. Bicycle repair (like literary genius) is inescapable. But it is easy and along the way you will meet new non-bullying friends and gain a little piece of self respect and that is how it starts. It worked for me. It will work for anybody.

As for you (my three Regular Readers), I realize you guys already know all this stuff. But last night Bill Clinton appeared in my dreams and ordered me to go forth and spread the Word. It may have been all the corn beef and cabbage I had for supper or a trick being played upon my tormented soul by Ernest and Julio; I don't know. But some bullies are scarier than others and when you dream about Bill Clinton it gets your attention.

Print this and leave copies around the office. It may help some poor lost Bean discover cycling. Also, next week I'm going to start running advertising and frankly, I need the money.

Yer pal, TJC the TPC

Whispering Pines Trailer Park and Nonsense Dispensary

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