Today I scheduled my hotel room in Traverse City for this year's Iceman. I am really looking forward to it, as always, but this year it's a little bittersweet.
It seems that this will be my last Iceman. Indeed, this will probably be my last year on a bicycle.
It was bound to happen sooner or later, because this is the thing that the blue-collar workforce of my parents' generation always warned us about.
Did we listen? No.
But now, my position as a cyclist has been replaced by a robot.
I'm not sure what I'll do now, but yep, robots have forced people out of the cycling community. Next thing you know, they'll be building cars, too.
Yeah, yeah, yeah... you show me a robot what rocks a 'hawk as good as you, and THEN I'll worry.
Plus, you're grounded, for scaring me like that.
That robot is for people like me. Not you.
I've got low crotch tolerance.
I'm guessing the wedding and Iceman aren't overlapping.
I'll leave a beer buried for you in our secret place.
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