Where's Mah Trek?!?!?!

An orange beast slouches towards St. Louis. I can feel it in my bones. And I'm tall, I have big bones. They're sensitive. And what they sense is a furiously orange juggernaut leaving a path of terror and burned villages in its wake; to be tamed, finally, by my enormous mass and unstoppable thirst. Uh. Thirst? Since when has thirst defeated a horrible fiend? I must need some Hawaiian Punch.The path of havoc started in Wisconsin, as the terrible beast was born in carbon fiber molds and paint booths by skilled craftspeople. Not knowing what they did, the monster was set free in the world. A few bizarre occurrences in Madison, followed shortly by inexplicable catastrophes in Chicago, culminating in near-apocalyptic events in St. Louis as the orange "Mad One" nears its destination. The first Horseman of the Apocalypse is upon us! Er, make that the First Bicycle of the Apocalypse! Cower in fear and tremble before its righteous wrath! Whoa. What was in that Hawaiian Punch?!?!

In other news, poor George Hincapie has failed to attain victory in yet another Paris-Roubaix. Poor George. I kind of identify with George, as we're about the same height, and roughly the same age. I think of him as the guy who had the commitment to actually live my childhood dream of being a pro cyclist. He's managed to do pretty well for himself, but not without years of toil, strife, and poverty. I'm more of an instant gratification kind of guy. And I'm not fast on a bike, so there's that. Ol' George did marry a French model, though, so maybe the whole biology/robot thing wasn't such a wise choice in retrospect. Nah, I have a sweet orange bike on the way...George will never be able to ride an orange bike, due to sponsor commitments! Ha! Take that George! And good luck next year.