better late than never

The hoped-for text about my new bike didn't come until well into the afternoon. When I leave work tonight, I'll swing by the bike shop and pick my new steed up. My overly chatty coworker, who is an avid biker, tells me that "ram's horn," while descriptive, is not the actual name for the handlebars I'd wanted: they're called "drops," according to him. So: drops it is.

Expect photos of the bike sometime tomorrow, when there's some sunlight. Never expect photos of me on the bike: as hulkingly huge as I am, I look ridiculous on any bike. You might as well get me a kid's Big Wheel.