- Joined
- May 11, 2010
- Messages
- 20,655
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
- Display Name
Display name:
Snorting his way across the USA
So, there I was...
Let's try this again. I'm all suited up in my biking clothes, sporting the winter riding pants that suggests that I am of a religion that I am actually not, a thermal long sleeve poly shirt, and the windbreaker even, and check the weather on the computer. WX looks good, save for the chill, winds are from the north, 5 kts. I like to ride north when the winds are from the north, because that means I get a tailwind coming back. Otherwise, I would rather ride to the south. I don't ride the same route every day, but I do frequent the burger place to the north because of the burgers, and, well, also, my Burger Girls. I believe Burger Girl Laura is working today. I like talking to Burger Girl Laura. Burger Girl Laura is a curvy little nubile Latina. If only things were different. To the south, there is a salad place. They don't treat me as well as the Burger Girls do, but it's a decent place. I do not look at the tatted up hipster with the beard and nose rings slicing the tri tip for my salad the same way I look at Burger Girl Laura.
Wait: Critical item. Set Strava to start recording the ride. If it ain't on Strava, it didn't happen, and the inability to shamelessly gloat over my riding accomplishment over the Internet (like anyone cares anyway, right?) completely negates the main purpose of the ride. The second I press the Home button on my phone to unlock it, a message flashes across the screen:
37 minutes to Habit Burger
What.... The.... Hell.... How presumptive! I didn't tell my telephone where I was going! I didn''t tell Strava where I was going! I mean yeah, I'm going there, but... I might have gone someplace else! How did it know? Maybe it knew the weather? Maybe it knew Burger Girl Laura was working today, even though I don't have her digits?
Rewind: I'm sitting there in my office (not wearing spandex displaying the configuration of my junk) but I am wearing pants, thinking. Should I go directly home, or should I stop off at the pub first? Normally I would stop off at the pub, but, alas, no, not today. The instant I turn my car on, and the telephone connects with it via Bluetooth, is the message flashing across the screen:
42 minutes to home. Use I-80.
You can't be serious! No way! What's up with this? How did it know I was going directly home? The time of day I'm leaving perhaps? If I was going to the pub, I would have left maybe twenty minutes later.
Let's try this again. I'm all suited up in my biking clothes, sporting the winter riding pants that suggests that I am of a religion that I am actually not, a thermal long sleeve poly shirt, and the windbreaker even, and check the weather on the computer. WX looks good, save for the chill, winds are from the north, 5 kts. I like to ride north when the winds are from the north, because that means I get a tailwind coming back. Otherwise, I would rather ride to the south. I don't ride the same route every day, but I do frequent the burger place to the north because of the burgers, and, well, also, my Burger Girls. I believe Burger Girl Laura is working today. I like talking to Burger Girl Laura. Burger Girl Laura is a curvy little nubile Latina. If only things were different. To the south, there is a salad place. They don't treat me as well as the Burger Girls do, but it's a decent place. I do not look at the tatted up hipster with the beard and nose rings slicing the tri tip for my salad the same way I look at Burger Girl Laura.
Wait: Critical item. Set Strava to start recording the ride. If it ain't on Strava, it didn't happen, and the inability to shamelessly gloat over my riding accomplishment over the Internet (like anyone cares anyway, right?) completely negates the main purpose of the ride. The second I press the Home button on my phone to unlock it, a message flashes across the screen:
37 minutes to Habit Burger
What.... The.... Hell.... How presumptive! I didn't tell my telephone where I was going! I didn''t tell Strava where I was going! I mean yeah, I'm going there, but... I might have gone someplace else! How did it know? Maybe it knew the weather? Maybe it knew Burger Girl Laura was working today, even though I don't have her digits?
Rewind: I'm sitting there in my office (not wearing spandex displaying the configuration of my junk) but I am wearing pants, thinking. Should I go directly home, or should I stop off at the pub first? Normally I would stop off at the pub, but, alas, no, not today. The instant I turn my car on, and the telephone connects with it via Bluetooth, is the message flashing across the screen:
42 minutes to home. Use I-80.
You can't be serious! No way! What's up with this? How did it know I was going directly home? The time of day I'm leaving perhaps? If I was going to the pub, I would have left maybe twenty minutes later.
