Quackaroonie!

I woke up from some weird dreams about cross-country trips and bike touring. Typical, really!

Rachel led me out into the living room to show me her morning project: She'd assembled a bike grease shield for my right leg, using the cloth and straps I gave her, just the way I'd described. It looked very promising! I decided to ride out with it that day. Rachel was late for work on campus, so she took off as I was loading the bike.

I pedaled out west of the house to the river, through the park, then threaded north. Across the fancy bridge I picked the nearest coffee shop and got a mocha and a B.L.T.

As I was moving my bike closer to the table, a young woman walked over to me, pointed at the grease protector that I had peeled from my right leg and draped over the handlebars, and declared, “I just learned what that is the other day. It’s called a spat!”

Me, thinking: “Wow. I have a bunch of nephews that I take on adventures, and now I wear spats…”

Waaait a minute...