Best words you can hear from a 12-year-old on whom you’ve just lavished a fairly nice new present: “Dad! My new bike is SOOOOO perfect!”

My motto? Go hard or go home! Or both. Out on the bike today, first time this year. A little later than last couple of years, but within a standard deviation. Besides, soon there will be rain that I will use as my excuse for not getting out at all, so it’s strictly an ego thing. Did a whopping 12K, but did them hard and fast. Lots of fun. Fresh wheels for spring And were my new Mavic Open Pro wheels with Shimano Ultegra hubs worth it? Oh, god, yes. My new wheels are SOOOOO perfect!

I’m a shameless collector of views over at Flickr, where I take comments from strangers on my photography as validation of my existence. Hey, as long as they validate!

Something I learned from this weekend’s slumber party, which I’m sure I would have liked to have known back when I was a 12-year-old boy: 12-year-old girls fart. A lot. Loudly, and on purpose. Then they laugh about it, in clear contravention of the “no more fart jokes!” edict. That would have been nice to have had in the back pocket (so to speak) during any number of conversations with girls that began, “Eww! You are SOOO gross!”

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