The crazy bastard who rode his bike to the train station today.

I pride myself as being fairly young and hardy. (OK, not all that young, maybe.) I ride my bike to the train most any dry day. If it’s below 30, I’ll walk, or grovel with The Missus for a ride (OK, not all that hardy.)

But on a day like today and yesterday, when the temps are barely high enough to celebrate their quinceria, my trusty steed (or “steel horse,” in Bon Jovi parlance) stays in the garage.

But not you, Man of Steel. There’s your bike, locked up at the station, mocking all who could not muster the resolve to put foot to pedal.

bikepic.JPG

Is there a GoreTex body sock I don’t know about, Man of Steel, a wind-resistant plastic bubble that envelopes you and your bike, or are you simply tougher than a Sunday night steak at Tad’s? I’ll never know.

Warm regards (warm cuz I’m in the Missus’ car, sucka!),

Trainjotting