02.24.2014 | 12:18 pm
Oh hi there. I’m pleased to announce that I’m not dead. I’m just not writing blog posts very often right now, for the following reasons:
- I’ve got other stuff going on in my life that leaves me very little time or energy to write each day.
- Winter sucks for cyclists in Utah who don’t have fat bikes, and in spite of my very obvious hints, no cycling company has yet offered to set me up with a fatbike. Yes, a guy named Fatty who rides bikes and lives in Utah and has a popular and award-winning cycling blog has not been offered a fatbike to ride and write about. Which brings up the question: is there a single bike company in the world that has a marketing department that is even trying at all?
- I’ve written nine years’-worth of winter posts and am pretty sure I’ve told most of the jokes I have to tell on this matter. In recent days, I’ve had half a dozen blog post ideas. Each time I did some checking and discovered I’d already written that post. Frequently, twice.
- I’m hungry because I’m trying to get rid of the weight I’ve been putting on since mid-October. And when I’m hungry, I get cranky. I know, I know: that’s really hard to believe.
Luckily for me, I very frequently get unsolicited offers from people who would like to write guest posts. I’m very confident that each of these people really wants to write because they have a great story to tell, not because of SEO scam tactics.
Today, then, I am happy to relay some of these letters, which I shall answer publicly, because I’m sure these people really do read my blog and will see my answers right away.
10 Reasons I Am Excited for This Guest Post
Let’s begin with this proposal from Steve Laurel.
Hi,
My name is Steve and I was wondering if I could contribute an informative article to give you some more great content. Do you think your readers would be interested in reading a post about “10 reasons you should take up cycling”? The article is unique, informative only and well written. I’m asking for 1 or 2 links in bio section or at the end of the article. Thank You!
All the best,
Steve
Dear Steve,
I confess, I am extremely excited by your proposal, and must confess some astonishment. Where in the world did you come up with such a unique idea? An article listing ten reasons to start cycling? Wow! I just hope that when you write this post, you will cover some of the same ground as this one. And this one. And this one. And this one. And the many others that all say pretty much the same thing (E.g., it’s fun, it’s transportation, it’s exercise, it’s social, it’s good for the environment…but I’m sure your article will have completely new reasons).
Next, as a frequent visitor to my blog (which you no doubt are), you are probably aware that very few of of my readers ride bikes. To be honest, I haven’t ridden one myself since 2005, well before I started writing this blog. With that in mind, I feel that my readers and I could definitely use an article listing ten reasons we should take up cycling.
I’m glad that you took the time to point out that the article, in addition to being unique and well written (I probably would have put a dash between “well” and “written,” but whatever), it will be “informative only.” Had you not taken the time to point this out, I would have had grave concerns that it might have also been interesting or entertaining, or—horrors—both. This site, as you well know, is about being informative, and informative only.
Finally, I’m super excited to find out what the one or two links are you’ll want in the bio section at the end of the article. I’ll bet that my audience will love to click them!
I look forward to getting your article, and will post it as soon as I want. By the way, I reserve the right to edit it to whatever extent I might deem necessary. Don’t worry about that, though. I generally have a pretty light touch with the red pen.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Aalia Has So Many Good Ideas
Next up, I received the following letter from Aalia Anderson, who—I think we can all agree—probably always got to go first when kids at school had to line up alphabetically.
Hi,
I am Aalia Anderson a writer and a blogger.
Before anything else, I would like to commend your awesome site. The articles are well-written and very informative.
I have been following your blog for some time now & would be great if I get an opportunity to write for your website in your niche with quality content & 100% copyscape passed with a reference link to the related website.
I have a few topics in mind mentioned below:
- Things to check before buying a scooter seat covers
- How to make your bike seat cover at home
- How to recover an old bicycle seat
- How to Reupholster Your Bike Seat with Leather
Also, if you have a topic in mind, I can write an article on that topic.
I hope I’m not asking for too much :)
Thank you very much and I hope to hear from you soon.
Cheers!
Dear Aalia,
First of all, I’m concerned you may have sent this letter to me by accident. I go out of my way to ensure that my articles are anything but “very informative.” I’d go out of my way to ensure they’re not well-written, too, but that pretty much takes care of itself.
With that in mind, I have forwarded your email to Red Kite Prayer, since it contains actual information and is well-written.
That said, I appreciate your interest in writing and your willingness to share your upholstery skills with my readers and me. But while I think probably everyone in the world is in fact interested in reupholstering their bike seats with leather, I’d like to direct your skills in a slightly different direction. Would you consider writing an article on one of the following?
- How to reupholster your bike helmet with leather and chrome so it looks like you’re even more of a geek than you already do
- How to reupholster your entire bike with leather, including the rims, cranks, spokes, cassette, and chain.
- The care and maintenance of leather cycling jerseys
- Leather Socks: pros and cons
- Why you should replace your traditional bike shorts chamois with a leather one
Thank you for writing, and I’m looking forward to posting your very informative and well-written article.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
How Could I Say No?
Finally, Ashley Louis sent me an article pitch that, frankly, I found too intriguing to turn down.
Hello,
I’m Ashley Louis from (congestionchargingguide.co.uk) I’m looking forward to do some guest posting on your site, where I could share some more information for your site (fatcyclist.com) which I found very informative and the theme of your site is very impressive which can help you built more Traffic to your site. I have been writing articles and publishing them as a guest post.
My guest post articles are unique and usually of about 400-500 words with high quality English and contents and would ask for one link to my website.
Let me know if you’re interested and give your suggestions on it. And feel free to shoot me a mail.
Regards
Ashley Louis.
Dear Ashley,
Thanks I give to for you as to the writing of most of your informative the letter you sent with to me as of days recent. I most like to think you are writing a post which are for the share to your most excellent and informative website and I am thinking if you were to write for me every day 400 – 500 words I could then have you to be my high-quality content and unique permanent guest posting writer. I think too much is not enough for you ask the contents and a link which readers my site of will find most useful and will bookmark and go to seven times or even thrice daily except twice on the end days of weeks!
I hope for the first article you am write will be on Congestion Charging in the London and its impatient practice important to cyclist in America. I think this exciting will to be read!
Kind for to be Regarded as,
Fat is to Cyclist the
Comments (58)
02.17.2014 | 8:28 am
This story is true. Before I say anything else, you must understand this very important fact. Which is to say, everything I will describe in today’s post actually happened. In fact, it actually happened last weekend.
The second thing you must accept as a crucial part of the premise of this story is this: I am a complete idiot. If you don’t take this second statement as given, you’ll never believe the first part.
Are we clear on both of these facts? Can we continue? Excellent.
Context
Saturday was the day we had been waiting for. A weekend day. Not snowy or rainy. Little wind. Mild temperature.
A good day, in short, for The Hammer and me to — for the first time in what felt like forever — go on a ride.
So, with me on my Tarmac and The Hammer on her Orbea, we rode the 23 miles to the Cedar Fort gas station, bought and shared a coke, and then started riding back.
On the return trip, we always take mile-long pulls, trading off at the mile-marker signposts. It’s a little tradition, one we both like.
“It’s so nice to be able to do this ride without the wind,” The Hammer shouted back during one of her pulls. And she was right.
Precipitating Event
As The Hammer came around for her third or fourth pull, I felt the way my rear wheel rolls change. You know the feeling: it becomes sloppy in the way it tracks, and you start feeling the road vibration much more strongly.
I had a flat rear tire.
“Oh well,” I said, not really terribly disappointed. Flats are easy to fix on road bikes. Meanwhile, it was a nice day out, and I didn’t mind taking a break from riding for five minutes or so.
So I unzipped my Banjo Brothers seat back and pulled out the spare tube I keep, wrapped up in an old cycling sock (to keep the tube from getting a hole rubbed into it). Then the CO2 threaded canister. And then the CO2 valve.
Except there was no CO2 valve.
Why wasn’t there a CO2 valve?
I sent my mind back — when was the last time I had gotten a flat, and why would I have replaced the tube and CO2 canister, but not put the CO2 valve back in the pack?
I couldn’t even remember. It didn’t matter anyway, not for the moment.
Luckily, The Hammer had a Banjo Brothers seat pack on her bike. “Can you get me the valve out of your seat pack?” I asked The Hammer. “I don’t have one in mine, though I don’t know why not.
“Sure,” The Hammer said, and unzipped her seat pack. Which contained a tube, a CO2 canister, and…nothing else.
Gah.
Plan B
So, for whatever forgotten reason, at some point in the past I apparently had raided both our seat packs at some point, taking the valves. Then, I had evidently forgotten to ever replace them.
Past-self, know this: I am pretty darn upset with your forgetfulness and irresponsibility.
So there we were, me with a flat and no way for us to fix it. The solution — a lousy solution, but there you are — was obvious.
“You go ahead and ride home (about fifteen miles from where we were),” I said. “I’ll walk my bike to the nearest gas station and buy myself an ice cream cone while I wait for you.”
“But what if I flat between here and there?” The Hammer asked. A good question, but with no good answer.
“Did you bring a phone?” I asked.
“No,” she answered.
“So take mine,” I said. “If you flat, you’ll need to call one of the kids to come pick you up.
“I’ll hurry back as fast as I can,” The Hammer said.
“That’s fine,” I said, not really unhappy. Walking’s not as fun as riding, but at least the day was nice. Things could have been a lot worse.
Plan C
I walked for about ten minutes, and then saw a guy riding toward me on the opposite side of the road. Riding a Canondale, wearing an Adobe kit.
Right then, I knew I wasn’t going to have to walk much farther.
As soon as the cyclist saw me, he veered off his line, cut across the four lanes of the road, and hollered the standard greeting cyclists on bikes yell to cyclists who are walking: “You need anything?”
“Do you have a CO2 valve?” I yelled back.
“Threaded,” he said, because by then he was stopped and swinging his leg over his bike.
“Perfect,” I said, and we talked for a few minutes while I changed my tube. As I worked, a couple more riders came by, each yelling the standard offer of assistance, and I thought to myself how great it is that this is somehow part of standard cyclist etiquette.
Before too long I was all set and Ryan and I each resumed our rides, heading in opposite directions.
The Problem With Plan C
As I rode back, I tried to picture how far ahead of me The Hammer might be. How long had I walked before Ryan rescued me? And how long had it taken me to get a new tube in once Ryan had shown up? A total of fifteen minutes, maybe? Possibly more?
I didn’t really know, but wasn’t worried. I figured I’d just ride the route The Hammer and I always ride, keeping an eye out for my truck.
But then I remembered.
The Hammer had said, “I’ll hurry back as fast as I can.”
And The Hammer is usually very literal. Which might mean, it now occurred to me, that when she came to get me, instead of retracing the less-trafficked route we take when we ride, she might drive the shortest route.
Because, of course, she wouldn’t be expecting me to be back on my bike.
Or would she?
Like me, The Hammer was bound to have noticed how many cyclists were there on the road that day, and she knows as well as I do that they often offer to help.
So she might guess that I might be back on my bike.
But that would be just a guess.
And she wouldn’t want to leave me sitting bored at a gas station for any longer than necessary.
And I didn’t have a phone to let her know what was going on.
“I’ll just have to hope she retraces the route we ride,” I thought, and kept going.
Missed Connection
When I was about half an hour from home, I started watching carefully for the truck, preparing to wave wildly when I saw it.
I did not see it. And as I got closer to home, I was more and more certain that I would not see it. That I would get home just about the time The Hammer got to the gas station where she expected me.
I got home and opened the garage door, hoping against hope that for some reason she had been delayed at home and was still there, thus bringing a ridiculously easy conclusion to this little farce.
Of course, the truck was gone.
So I went to call The Hammer. Except when she had left to pick me up, she had taken both her phone and mine with her.
So I tried the landline. Which failed to work. (Yes, really.)
And then one of the several teenagers living at our house wandered by, his phone in his hand (natch). “Give me your phone,” I said, curtly.
“Why?” He replied, suspiciously.
“Just give me the phone,” I said, the explanation for why I needed it almost ridiculously too complicated in my mind.
I called The Hammer.
“Hi Nigel,” The Hammer said, answering the phone.
“Nope, it’s me,” I replied.
“Elden? Did Nigel come and get you, then?”
“No, a rider stopped for me and I was able to get my bike fixed, and I rode home. I guess you must have gone a different way than we ride?”
“Yeah.”
“So,” I asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m just getting to the gas station now.”
Doofus
And that’s when I realized what you probably realized about twenty paragraphs ago: I could have stopped at a gas station along the way. Or any of the multitude of fast-food restaurants. Or just about anywhere, really. And I could have made a phone call, letting The Hammer know where I was and what I was doing.
But I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me. I had given my phone to The Hammer and — magically — at that instant all other phones (including the one I probably could have borrowed from Ryan if I’d thought of it) had stopped existing.
And — in spite of the fact that we had seen probably 25 or 30 bikes on the road that day — it never occurred to me to say to The Hammer before she took off on her own, “Hey, on your way back, retrace the regular riding route…just in case someone stops and can loan me a CO2 adapter.”
And…finally…maybe it’s time I realize that owning a small pump that fits in a jersey pocket — not just relying on CO2 to fix flats — might not be a half-bad idea.
But I figure I’ll probably just wait ’til I’ve found myself stranded on the side of the road a few more times ’til I learn that lesson.
Yeah, that’s almost certainly what I’ll do.
Comments (52)
02.12.2014 | 10:47 am
As cyclists, we are missing a big opportunity. To identify it, turn around and look behind you.
Oh, that didn’t work at all.
OK, this time, just turn your head around, leaving your body where it was, Exorcist-style, and then look down.
If you are — as I assume you always are — wearing a cycling jersey, you’ll notice three pockets.
Three capacious pockets.
(Or if you’re wearing some styles of women’s jerseys, you may have been cheated into having only two pockets. This is not my fault, and I accept no responsibility for this inequity, but I do sympathize. [However, this is not the point of today’s post and I intend to ignore this unfairness from this point forward, though if you happen to have a petition demanding three pockets for women’s jerseys, I will gladly sign it.])
And yet, all too often, I see cyclists riding with only a few trivial items — or, worse, nothing at all — in these pockets.
This needs to stop.
People, you have pockets. You have a bike. It’s time to start carrying stuff — lots and lots of stuff — in those jersey pockets whenever you ride.
I shall provide examples, by way of suggestion, and encourage you to provide examples of your own in the comments.
Articles of Clothing
Sure, maybe you currently pack arm warmers, knee warmers, a vest, and even a windbreaker sometimes. But your jersey pockets can (and should) hold so much more. Imagine, for example, the indescribably delicious feeling of swapping out to a nice clean pair of shorts midway through a century ride? And perhaps a matching jersey? And socks? All of those will fit in your jersey pockets. With room enough, even, for cycling cap you can don, post-ride. And a poncho.
Why a poncho?
Carrying a poncho as you climb gives you the right to wear that poncho as you descend. And there is nothing quite so grand-looking as a cyclist descending while wearing a poncho. It looks as festive as it does gallant.
Plus, if you’re carrying a poncho in your jersey pocket and people ask you what you’re carrying, you get to say, “A poncho,” and you get to say it as enigmatically as you like.
Food
Of course you’re already carrying food in your jersey pocket. I know that. But the food you’re carrying is lacking, both in terms of quantity and variety. With the large pockets you have on your back, might I suggest:
- An eighth of a cheese wheel. Or, if you like, a quarter of a cheese wheel, split between your left and right jersey pockets. In which case I recommend carrying a few nice apples in your center jersey pocket. Nothing is quite so delicious as an apple slice with cheese. [Tip: Don’t forget to carry a knife to cut apple and cheese slices.]
- A loaf of fresh-baked bread. This is more for your riding companions than for yourself. As your fellow cyclists will (I promise) point out, there is nothing quite so wonderful — nor delightfully unexpected — as riding behind a cyclist that smells like a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
- A quart of applesauce. It goes down nearly as easily as a drink, with nearly the same caloric density as a gel. And wide-mouth bell jars mean you don’t have to squeeze to eat.
- A whole roast chicken. It’s impossible to overstate the importance of getting enough protein in a cyclist’s diet.
My personal favorite is to carry an eighth of a cheese wheel, a loaf of bread, and a roast chicken. When I ride, I eat like a king. A medieval king.
Weights
Are you training to be a better climber? Allow me to suggest riding with a ten-pound barbell in each jersey pocket.
[Tip: wrap the barbells in cotton or duct tape to soften the hard edges of the barbells pressing against your back.]
[Another Tip: Allow for some stretching of the jersey fabric.]
Tools and Supplies
You’re probably already carrying what you need to change a tire, and maybe make some emergency repairs on your bike.
But what if you need a half-dozen new spokes when riding? Or a new rear derailleur? Or what if you need to make some emergency welds to your frame? If you carry a full set of Park Wrenches, hydraulic cable and fluid, enough spokes to build a wheel from scratch, a replacement rear derailleur (and a front one while you’re at it), along with a complete new chain, you’ll find there are few field repairs you aren’t prepared for.
A puppy
The reason for carrying a puppy in your jersey pocket is simple: it will be incredibly adorable.
[Tip: Do not carry a full-grown small dog (like a Pug or Chihuahua) in your jersey pocket. For some reason, that’s just creepy.]
Comments (57)
02.10.2014 | 10:55 am
You’ll have to excuse me for being a little slow with posting today. See, I found this really good race writeup about this really great race, and I got caught up in it. You should check it out: Parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven.
Oh, did I forget to mention that this is a story I wrote? About last year’s Rockwell Relay? Silly me.
The thing is, though, that was probably the highlight of my racing career. My favorite installment of my favorite annual race.
Because The Rockwell Relay is an incredible adventure. Ask anyone who’s done it: it’s equal parts race, road trip, and experiment in interpersonal dynamics.
And you ought to come race it. This year. More to the point, you ought to sign up today. Cuz if you do, as team captain you’ll score an extremely awesome Fat Cyclist / Rockwell Relay jersey:
What Is The Rockwell Relay?
For those of you who don’t know what the Rockwell Relay is, allow me to encourage you to go read my race report (yes, all eleven installments). Or watch this beautiful video (see how many Team Fatty sitings you can identify) to see the kind of incredible terrain you’ll see.
But here’s the short version.
The Rockwell Relay is a 520-mile road bike relay race along the backroads from Moab, Utah to Saint George, Utah. Each team is made of four people, each of which takes turns racing specific segments of the course. Segment lengths vary, but are generally 40-50 miles long. The rider order stays the same throughout the race, and you take turns being the racer, the driver (unless you’ve got a dedicated driver), and the support crew (unless you’ve got a dedicated crew).
It’s intense. It’s fun. It’s brutally hard. It’s exciting.
It’s beautiful.
It is — completely honestly and truly — my very favorite cycling event.
So, clear your calendar for the weekend of June 13 – 14. I’ll grill you a bratwurst.
We’ll hang out, and then we’ll race.
It will be a weekend you never ever forget.
Sign Up Now
Because I love this event so much, I’ll be talking about it more in the next little while. And I’ll be encouraging you to sign up. Because I’d love to see as many Friends of Fatty do this race as possible.
And because I love this race so much, I’ve partnered up with the Rockwell Relay guys. If you sign a team up by the end of this month (February), the captain of your team will get a very nice Rockwell Relay / Fat Cyclist jersey, made by DNA Cycling. And these guys make very nice jerseys. Nice enough that the other three people on your team will want to get one too — and at only $60 / jersey, that’s about the best deal you’ll ever get on a DNA jersey.
So, sign up here. Now.
Oh, One More Thing
For the past three years in a row, Team Fatty — Kenny, Heather, The Hammer, and me — have won the coed division. We intend to win it again.
That said, our cumulative age this year will be 189 (that’s an average age of 47.25, and our youngest rider will be 45). And while a coed team can be three men and one woman, we always have — and always will — race in the true spirit of co-ededness: two women and two men. And we always have been — and always will be — a self-supported team.
So if you’re going to come after us, you may want to take those things into account as you build your team. You know, so you don’t blow us out of the water too badly.
See you in June!
Comments (28)
02.4.2014 | 12:35 pm
Greetings from the future. I send you this message back through time (WordPress started having the feature of being able to post backward in time beginning in build 5.2.1c) as guidance, and as a warning.
The Zombie Apocalypse is coming. You have seven months to prepare. Yeah, I know. Some of you are saying, “Hey, seven months isn’t exactly a lot of time to prepare. As long as you’re sending blog posts into the past, why didn’t you send it back ten years? Or at least five?”
To that, I respond: I wasn’t even blogging ten years ago, so that’s stupid. And if I had sent this post back five years, you would have had plenty of time to rationalize why it was just a silly joke—a fabrication—and you would have let your preparations lapse.
Most of you will do that anyway. (I say this both as a person with knowledge of what you consider the future, and as a person who understands the personality profile of my blog readership.)
But for those few of you who choose to take this seriously, I have some life-saving tips.
Ride
First and foremost, start riding your bike more. Ride every day. Ride as if your life depended on it.
Because it does.
See, as it turns out, cars won’t do you a lot of good once the Zombie Apocalypse begins. Sure, they’ll be great for getting away while you’ve got gas in your tank. But before long you’re going to run out. And the lines at gas stations are going to be long. Which, by the way, the zombies figure out pretty quickly. (Also, they figure out how to break windows.)
And then the gas supply dries up. And the roads get clotted with cars, making it pretty much impossible to get anywhere in a car.
But a road jammed with cars still has plenty of room for bikes to get around (ask any big-city cyclist; they’ll tell you. Endlessly.).
So start getting in shape. Get used to riding. Toughen up your butt. And—this is very important—don’t forget to do intervals. It’s impossible to overstress the value of the ability to accelerate and hold a sprint for about 200 yards. This will distance you from all but the fastest zombies (the exception being Usain Bolt [yes, he’s now a zombie], but if he chases you, you at least have the consolation of knowing you were captured, killed, and eaten by an Olympic superstar). By the time you’re that far away, the Zombie will have forgotten you (Zombies have notoriously short attention spans, and nobody has really taken it upon themselves to find out if Ritalin helps).
Also, you should work on skills drills. Practice hard stops and sharp turns. Yes, partially to give you the know-how to avoid zombies that surprise you by jumping out from behind large objects (cars, mostly). But also because in the future, auto drivers (the smug bastards who hoarded gasoline) totally ignore the three-foot foot rule.
Keep Your Bikes In Good Repair
If you are a professional bike mechanic, you are in a peculiar position: you are set to become either the most powerful people in your general geographic location, or you are about to become captive to one of the most powerful people in your geographic location.
My recommendation: learn kung-fu.
For the rest of you, now is a good time—a really, really good time to learn how to maintain a bike. And it’s a not half-bad time to consider getting a singlespeed. Chain suck always sucks, but you’d be hard pressed to find a more sucky time to get chain suck than when you’re being pursued by a zombie.
(Word to the wise: in an emergency, a quick release skewer can be used to skewer more than a wheel. Provided you’re quick enough with that quick release.)
Supplies
As it became clear to the world that the Zombie Apocalypse was nigh, people began to hoard. Sadly, however, many people hoarded very stupid things.
Specifically, people thought that hoarding cigarettes would be a good thing to hoard, with the expectation that cigarettes would make an excellent portable, high-value fungible.
This was, as I mentioned, stupid. Really stupid.
First of all, smokers—thanks to their hacking coughs, strong odor (zombies have a heightened sense of smell), and reduced lung capacity, smokers make easy pickings for zombies. And as the number of smokers decreased—and the number of surviving smokers who suddenly decided to quit sharply increased—cigarettes were definitely a buyers’ market…and nobody wanted to buy.
You know what is in strong demand in this post-apocalyptic hellscape, however? Stan’s Tire Sealant. With broken glass (from cars, see above) pretty much everywhere, the ability of your tire to survive a puncture is pretty much synonymous with your ability to survive, period.
It’s not a bad idea to stock up on tires, while you’re at it. And lube. And flat pedals (clipless pedals are currently not in fashion, for reasons I think might are probably pretty obvious.
Oh, and buy a good helmet. Not as protection from crashes necessarily, but as a way to avoid being bitten on the head. Zombies like to go straight for the brain, and a layer of styrofoam between your noggin and the ravenous undead can be downright helpful.
Get Fit-Fat
If you’ve put on a few pounds this past winter, allow me to recommend you do everything you can to keep that weight on. Having a few extra pounds on you might be the difference between surviving for the first three weeks of the Zombie Apocalypse…and not.
Hey, why do you think I’m the one writing this blogpost of warning, while other much thinner cycling writer types aren’t? It’s because with their they all died of hunger, about twenty minutes after the last batch of kale was looted from the local Whole Foods market.
So, eat up (to a point).
[Full Disclosure: In fairness, I should point out that I have a somewhat selfish motive in recommending you gain a few pounds. Specifically, those of you who take my advice to heart a little too literally will be slower than me. Which means zombies will catch you first. Plus overweight zombies are easier for me to outsprint.]
Final Warning
Finally, one last word of advice: get a good lock and chain. Your bike is more valuable than you could ever have known.
And be of good cheer. As a cyclist, your chances of survival in this Zombie-infested nightmare are better than just about anyone else’s.
They’re not as helpful against the sentient humanoid killer robots, but that’s a matter for a different post.
Comments (56)
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