Goodbye Minneapolis, Hello Madison!

Owing to the rigorosities of my grueling (pronounced "groo-ELLING") touring schedule, the blog post into which I am typing words at this very moment will be brief, for I have aeroplanes to catch and BRAs to unhook and no time for the adding of any additional extraneous superfluous excessive verbiage.

I also don't have the luxury of thematic tangents and meanderings and need to keep to the point, which reminds me of this time many years ago when I was at the very first Lollapalooza festival at SPAC, and I left my seat to get a falafel.  When I returned, security wouldn't let me bring the falafel back to my seat with me.  Therefore, I was forced to consume the falafel in great haste so as not to miss the plaintive squealing and rhythmic gyrations of Perry Farrell or whoever was on stage at the time.  However, in so doing, I accidentally consumed my ticket stub along with the falafel (it's easier than you'd think to eat a rain- and tahini-soaked ticket stub without noticing it), and it took a great deal of cajoling on my part to convince the security person to authorize my return.

So, right, this guy:

To cyclists everywhere, he is the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork, and his ubiquitous likeness is used to promote everything from charity rides to Canadian bread:

(Fred bread)

But did you know he also has a unicycling doppelganger?  It's true, and I know this because I spotted him while wandering around Minneapolis yesterday:

By the way, it was quite a blustery day yesterday, and I should point out that he's unicycling into a pretty strong headwind:

That will probably compromise his time on Strava, or it's unicycling equivalent.

In any case, this preternaturally upright apparition in yellow has led me to advance a theory, which is this:

Somewhere in the world, each and every bicyclist has a unicycling doppelganger.

Think about it.

Immediately after experiencing this revelation, I crossed the Mississippi River:

Which was immediately familiar to me because I saw it in a movie once:

After crossing it, I descended a long staircase:

And then I kneeled at its bank and drank deeply to slake my thirst, and to experience communion with this legendary river that separates East from West:

I can't describe the spiritual sensation of imbibing the mystical waters of America's sweat rivulet, but I can describe the severe cramping, fever, and vomiting that came afterward.  Fortunately for you, I won't.  I will, however, boast about my own resiliency, for shortly thereafter I was burying my face in an enormous falafel sandwich:

I didn't eat any ticket stubs, but I am having trouble finding my cellphone.

Ultimately, this falafel was sufficient to fuel yesterday's ride, organized by Freewheel Bike Shop, as well as my BRA at the University of Minnesota Bookstore.  Thanks very much to everybody involved and all who attended, and I'm now off to Madison where I hope to see some of you here:

Wednesday, March 28
5:30pm ride
Machinery Row
601 Williamson Street
Madison, WI 53703
(608) 442-5974

Barnes & Noble 
7433 Mineral Point Road
Madison, WI 53717
(608) 827-0809

Yours truely,

Wildcat Rock Machine


cc: David Byrne
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