I was wondering, is there a blogging rule on how often the subject of “pooping” is fair game? I mean can one go to that “well” too often? Because of some concern on this point I went back and checked my old posts and discovered that my previous poop post was published on November 4, 2012, “How Low Can He Go.” Heavens, I missed pooping on the entire year of 2013! Ok, so surely under anyone’s rules, another poopy post should be allowed at this juncture.
It was a couple of weeks ago that I threw caution to the wind and broke a cardinal rule established following the last poopcident (described in that earlier post). The rule is: Never eat two donuts before or during a bike ride. It was a cold on a recent Sunday morning, and since I had to wait for the day to warm up, I had a lot of time to goof off first. The first nail in the coffin of that Sunday was my trip over to Monuts Donuts. Of course, nails two and three were the delicious frosted hoops I consumed before leaving on my ride. Then I suppose you could say that nails four and five, (the fried chicken and sticky bun consumed at the half way point of my ride) pretty much cinched it that I was going to go DOWN. I didn’t know it then, but the process had been set in motion, and now it was only a matter of when.
I’m not going to draw this out, so I’ll just cut to the unfortunate and painful denouement. About 10 miles out I began to feel the unmistakable first signs of “intestinal distress,” and as I approached the outskirts of Chapel Hill the cramps were severe. I was now in the city though, and started to panic. Where could I bail to and do my duty without making a display of myself. Then, along the road I saw a group of three big telephone switch boxes, fabulous! I hopped off the bike, dragged the bike into the brush and headed behind one of the big boxes. Oh the relief! I tidied-up a bit and feeling better started to head back to the road. Ah no, not just yet. Rushed back behind another one of the boxes and, well, you know.
Just when I was feeling MUCH better I heard a vehicle pull up and stop. What the “&^@$” is going on? You’ve never seen a guy hike up his drawers so fast. Now, after having soiled the area around two of the three boxes I charged out of the weeds, grabbed my bike and saw the vehicle. Unbelievable, it was the AT&T guy, in his van, come to work on the boxes on a SUNDAY? Just as I saw him, he saw me. I mean, poop, we made eye contact, so I couldn’t very well just leave and let the poor guy step on a roadside IPD (improvised poop device). Can you imagine the damage one of those could do!? So, as demeaning as it was, I walked up to the guy’s door, he rolled down the window, and I admitted my crime. “I just took a ‘dump’ behind your boxes,” I said, ” so watch your step back there.” The guy did NOT look happy, but had said nothing by the time I was up on the bike and peddling down the road. Thank god that in biking gear and helmet, all of us bikers look the same.
Alright, that should take care of us for another year, but along those lines… hey, let’s talk about toilets. The Princess got a bit too energetic with the cleanser recently and scrubbed the laminated finish right off the toilet seat in her bathroom. So, after pestering me for a couple of weeks, we finally went out to Lowe’s to buy a new seat. This is the kind of project that you think is going to be easy, but turns out to be a big huge pain. There were at least twenty (probably more) seats displayed on the wall. How do you choose? Well, first you cull out all the circular ones (our toilet is oval), then all the cheap plastic ones, and the colored ones, and the squishy ones and the wood-grained ones and then you’re still left with about half a dozen.
We finally picked one out, brought it home, and since I didn’t read the instructions (naturally, I mean how hard could it be?) it took me way longer than it should have to install the stupid thing, and in the end, I’m not even sure if I got it right. I guess if I hear screaming from the “biffy” I’ll know something’s amiss. But job done, I gave the thing a try, and holy poop, it’s the neatest thing. Turns out we bought what they call the “Whisper Close” option. The box, now that I looked at it, says that this feature eliminates slamming and pinched fingers…well ok.
I can’t really properly explain how cool this is, so I made a short YouTube video for you, which you can access by clicking right here. Ladies, if you have a guy around the house who refuses to put the seat back down for you, this baby is the ticket. I like watching this seat close so much, that I find myself going into The Princess’s bathroom to pee, just so I can watch the cover close.
I did go out to Gene’s last week and got reacquainted with the Pony. He was a bit miffed at the lack of attention, but I’ll start making up for lost time soon. In an attempt to get to the bottom of the “lack of power” issue that came up at the end of last season, I tackled the fuel system first. I removed the sediment bowl and gas line to the carb, drained the gas tank, and removed the carb. Next I’ll be taking the carb apart and checking the jets. Then while the carb is off, Gene and I are going to check the gaps on the valve tappets. I’ll let you know how that all goes in the next post.
But I’ll leave you with this little limerick:
Just one donut, gives reason to lament.
Certainly two would be heaven-sent.
But I’ve got a suggestion
That’s good for digestion.
Give up that second one for Lent.
Until next time, thanks for reading.