After riding about 40 miles, I proposed that we stop in at a Dairy Queen for some refreshments. We're wearing biking shoes, clicking against the tile floor. Black lycra shorts, matching jerseys advertising something we did together that has a bike in the design. I'm wearing my helmet into the shop, festooned with reflective stickers. My husband's coif, with its odd ridges and tuffs, epitomizes the phrase, "Helmet Hair". The young man behind the counter, with his name on his trainee badge, stared at us sort of incomprehendingly, and then you can tell he figured it out. He mutters, "Huh. Bikers." Ya think?
"Claire Petersky" <[email hidden]> wrote in message news:[email hidden]...
Quoted message said:
After riding about 40 miles, I proposed that we stop in at a Dairy Queen for some refreshments. We're wearing biking shoes, clicking against the tile floor. Black lycra shorts, matching jerseys advertising something we did together that has a bike in the design. I'm wearing my helmet into the shop, festooned with reflective stickers. My husband's coif, with its odd ridges and tuffs, epitomizes the phrase, "Helmet Hair". The young man behind the counter, with his name on his trainee badge, stared at us sort of incomprehendingly, and then you can tell he figured it out. He mutters, "Huh. Bikers." Ya think?