This is from an early September ride.
Humid morning, partly cloudy. God beams everywhere, from the north and north east over the Catalinas, extending towards us, the Rincons to the east and the Santa Ritas to the far south. Riding East out the east end of Speedway, the guys in front, me in back alone. Tando yells “Stop. I’ve got to stop.” Val: “We’re pulling over, Moose.” We all pull over, Tando in the sandy shoulder, Val turned around the wrong direction facing Tando and me. Tando: “There’s a bug in my ear! I feel it moving! Anyone have something I can stick in there? A cuetip or something?” Me: “How about a twig?” Val: “Ah, I really don’t think you’re supposed to put pointy shit in your ear.” Tando, ignoring Val: “How about a key?” He pulls a key from his Camelbak and starts digging in his ear with his face screwed up. I look on in amazement as Val moves towards us on his bike, stops and lets rip the loudest fart I’ve heard since the Rat, years ago. “Ugh!” I drop my head down, shaking it, and finally rest it on my handlebars, laughing. I pick my head up, a bewildered expression on my face, and look back and forth between the guys, the one with a key still in his ear, grunting with pleasure, the other looking a little sheepish. “My GOD, who am I riding with? Who are you people?” Tando briefly halts his mining operation—key still in ear—to meet Val’s look. Val: “Hey, if you can’t tear a little ass on a ride, when can you?” Tando shrugs and finally pulls the key out of his ear. Me: “Better?” Tando: “Eh, just got some lint. No bug.”
~~Anon A. Moose