As I was getting ready to ride home from work today, I got Tim Wilson's Jet Pack song stuck in my head. I really didn't feel like riding home, I just wanted my jet pack. In fact, for the first five or so miles of my ride, all I could repeat was, "Where the fuck is my jet pack?" I never did find it.
The ride wasn't actually that bad. My feet are still cold, but otherwise it was pleasant enough. I'll likely be wanting that jet pack again in the morning when it's time to ride back up. 40ish and into the wind. Joy.
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