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| The unspeakable... |
Experienced readers will agree with Melvin that every ass is different. Therefore, every wet ass is different too. You've got good wet ass and you've got bad wet ass. Below, I will explore the bad wet ass. Real bad and real wet.
Today it rained. Biblical showers, but hey, they're not REALLY the end of the world, are they? That is, until a certain someone had to come along. This spiteful whimp obviously didn't feel very much like cycling home on a soaked saddle. So, true maggot style, he transferred from my seat to his the plastic bag that he didn't care to bring himself. Which tells us that he doesn't give a shit about a) people and b) bikes. Oh, and c) love. Because you just cannot miss the fact that any pre-war ride is kept running by a loving owner. And this particular owner happens to be especially attached to his saddle, a beautiful Lepper in faded brown leather, probably as old as me and plusher than a Cadillac. It is constructed to carry asses around town until the end of time unless, of course, it is ruined by some random infidel. Yes, you are sensing testamental fury here... maybe because this trick was pulled TWICE on me this week? I am full of love for bikes and people, but I do solemny swear that I have something medieval coming for the sorry bastard who is caught in the act. He WILL know how bad a wet ass can be.
For now, let's make something out of this. Here's a shameless plug for a friend who tries to make a living designing cool stuff for bikes. He channeled his hate for the wet ass into the Fendor Bendor: a cheap and foldable rear mudguard that is shipped worldwide. More WIT works can be found here & here.
Today it rained. Biblical showers, but hey, they're not REALLY the end of the world, are they? That is, until a certain someone had to come along. This spiteful whimp obviously didn't feel very much like cycling home on a soaked saddle. So, true maggot style, he transferred from my seat to his the plastic bag that he didn't care to bring himself. Which tells us that he doesn't give a shit about a) people and b) bikes. Oh, and c) love. Because you just cannot miss the fact that any pre-war ride is kept running by a loving owner. And this particular owner happens to be especially attached to his saddle, a beautiful Lepper in faded brown leather, probably as old as me and plusher than a Cadillac. It is constructed to carry asses around town until the end of time unless, of course, it is ruined by some random infidel. Yes, you are sensing testamental fury here... maybe because this trick was pulled TWICE on me this week? I am full of love for bikes and people, but I do solemny swear that I have something medieval coming for the sorry bastard who is caught in the act. He WILL know how bad a wet ass can be.
For now, let's make something out of this. Here's a shameless plug for a friend who tries to make a living designing cool stuff for bikes. He channeled his hate for the wet ass into the Fendor Bendor: a cheap and foldable rear mudguard that is shipped worldwide. More WIT works can be found here & here.
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