Oh, it’s frosty out there, alright! But let’s be real, this isn’t our first winter rodeo. I’ve got this theory that we’re all kinda regressing. Seems like everybody’s turning into a bunch of softies these days. A little cold snap or a “massive” snow dump of, what, a whole foot, and suddenly it’s all hands on deck, code red, disaster mode. People, seriously, let’s get a grip. Oh wait, we are—freezing our tails off, that is. And here I am, moaning about my own saga of woes, courtesy of a bike wipeout last Tuesday.
Yep, bit the dust again! There I was, cruising alongside the railroad tracks near the gun range in East Missoula, when a sneaky patch of ice decided we should meet the hard way (and trust me, the ground feels a lot harder the older you get). Now I’m hobbling around, feeling every bit of the cold gnawing at my bruises and aches. So, yeah, that’s my gripe. But, you know what? Forget playing it safe. I’m biking to work today. Why? Simply because I still can! Shame most folks don’t get it, too caught up in their cozy, “powder puff” bubbles.
Boneshakerbike 
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