24 HOURS OF MOAB

Ask me how glad I am I wasn't racing. I'm pretty glad. I'm very glad, in fact. I'm astonished by the physical fitness that is required to do a race like this. I know I will never have that kind of fitness. Not that I'm a pessimist, I just know my limits. I'm seriously impressed with the team and their racing. But for us admirers, it was fun in its own right. We just sat out in the shade and talked, drank diet soda, and ate twinkies. I wonder why I will never be that fit? Hmmm. But it was still fun. Okay, so the toilet did get clogged, and poor Sean had to put his whole arm down there to dislodge the wad of toilet paper that had stopped it up, but he being the hero that he is, it was fixed in no time. He also sacrificed his bike to the Gods of poor welding. We're about 10 miles from Moab, when a car pulls up next to us and shouts "Your bike is dragging". Doh. Yep, our bike rack had taken a header onto the asphalt moving at 70 MPH underneath it. As we approached the hanging mass of metal, I was sure we could fix it. Nope. Not gonna happen. I personally think it was a conspiracy so he could get a new bike, but maybe it was an accident. Or maybe it's the bad luck Rob and Laura have on our trips. Ahh, no matter. They're more fun than they are bad luck, so I guess we'll keep them. So another trip behind us, many more ahead of us. Who knows where we'll end up next.