To Bike, or not to Bike,...that is the question!

Ok maybe it's time for the wife to "put me away", off to the rest home, "losing it", or for my English mates "bloody daft", but in the wife's loving venacular, "You're fuckin' crazier than I thought!" Why all these thoughts about a nice old sot like me who loves Guinness, wouldn't hurt a fly (ok,..so I lied,...I'd beat the shit out of a fly, they are annoying!), and all the other nice things ever said about me?
Because I had a "brain fart" this morning. It all started as I rode along the beach road. There is a six foot wide bicycle/walking/jogging path for about eight miles of it. The walkers and joggers co-exist peacefully enough, but the bikers(not the Harley type, but the Fujiama/Cannondale crowd, they insist on riding on the regular road.
While I will be the first to stand up and ask for forgiviness, to repent from my wicked ways, etc.,etc. I really didn't mean to think about sort of "holding the line" and if thier bicycle should come in contact with my car fender,....well, they have helmets on, and besides aren't those "tour d'France" shirts they wear just absolutely the most disgusting fashion statements you''ve ever seen! (Sorry,..The devil made me say that!)
Anyhow, I deviate. I've been arguing with the little guy, you know the voice in your head that keeps saying shit like, "Don't eat that , it's not healthy" and "Put your tongue back in your mouth and stop drooling, she's old enough to be your granddaughter!" or the issue we're going "round and round about" now.
"So you selfish shit, you 're not doing any exercise, you work, eat, drink a few pints, sleep and complain about it, and you know what that means? Huh? You are going to leave me, die, kick the bucket,croak, etc. and you're wife,...well she'll get some new thirty something "stud muffin, boy toy", and he'll get your recliner, throw out your Pub music collection, and all your computers, and why? Because you are too damn stupid to get into some kind of exercise program?"
I must say the little guy is persuasive. So I've been thinking,...what could I do for exercise that I could "tolerate" you see I HATE exercise. If I had ten bucks for every gym, spa, etc. I've joined and went three times only to be "the fat guy" by the third visit amongst the "body beautiful" crowd who are working like crazy to drop a pound! They are consumed by it, they live for it, they think they are "fat"! Excuse me but I'M the poster boy for the "Outlaw Twinkies" posters!
Anyhow my perverted logic has been carrying the argument with the little guy and they started to gang up on my "soft side". "Look dummy, if you got a bike and the "gym crowd" was around you could ride away from them. And with the goofy helmet, a dumb ass shirt, sunglasses, and a hundred and something odd gear bicycle you could fly away. Don't you remember how much fun riding your bike was as a kid?"
"Frankly no, my mother wouldn't let me get a bike until I was fifteen because someone she knew had a kid run over by a truck when she was five riding a bike."
"Alright, but consider if you don't do something we will probably not be having too many long term conversations. And remember that article I made you see on Google about not being skinny isn't necessarily bad if you are a bicyclist,....remember?"
"Ok,... I'll look into it, satisfied? And I guess you have to come along since you're like in my head already,....but you say one word, you even do an oooh or an aaaah, and we're out of there I'm telling you."
"Sure, sure, you got it, not a peep out of me, promise. But we are going looking right?"
"Yeah, we're going to look at bikes."
"Goood,...let's go I'm all set!"
"It's Sunday stupid, bike shops aren't open on Sunday."
"Wrong, Bicycle Bob's out in Blue Mountain Beach is open today."
"Are you sure? Couldn't we just wait until tomorrow?"
"BULLSHIT! Tomorrow you go back into workaholic mode and God forbid you think of skipping a pint at the Pub after work, and Lord knows dinner is at 6:30p.m. and then between the Law & Order re-runs, and NCIS, ...shit next thing you know it's next weekend. Stop being a procrastnator, get off you lazy ass and let's go!!!"
"But I'm writing a 'blog' entry."
"Look, don't whine and weasel like that, get your ass up and I'll finish the blog, tell the wife you're going to look at some bike and thinkking about an "exercise" program,...you got three minutes I'll be done with the blog by then,...OK?"
"Well get going,...NOW!"

He's downstairs now and I got him. Odd's are he'll get intersted and I'll push him over the edge. Got to run,...I'll let you know how "the little guy" handled him, after all you can never win out over the little voices in your head. The nuns used to call them you conscience,...adios!

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