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rowanrhys and everybody else:
Hufflepuff. Loyal yet shy, the world could not run
without your support
A genuine Sorting Hat quiz
brought to you by Quizilla
First time I've ever been Sorted into Hufflepuff. Usually it's Ravenclaw or Gryffindor...
Counted the miles from the bike trip: approximately 138 miles for the weekend, max. speed for the entire trip 41.0 miles/hour. I'm pleasantly surprised my hands aren't more sore than they are. Being the stoker (rear person) on a tandem (two-seat bicycle) means that I don't have control over the brakes, steering or shifting. The captain (the front person) has all the control. My job is to (1) pedal and provide more power; (2) watch the rear-view mirror for cars, trucks, semis, tractors, etc.; (3) watch the farm houses for loose dogs and be ready to pepper-spray them to convince them that cyclists do not taste good, and should be left alone. (My [half-serious] suggestions of being allowed to carry eggs, fruit, tomatoes, or water balloons filled with day-glow orange paint, for use on rude drivers, have all been vetoed by my captain. Fortunately, in Wisconsin, we seldom encounter rude drivers, and the rudest ones only pass us a mite too close when there's oncoming traffic. Nobody throws things out their pickup truck windows at us...) So when my computer is telling me we're doing over 30 miles/hour, I tend to death-grip my handlebars, and hope that the road ahead is good and clear of debris...
rowanrhys and everybody else:Hufflepuff. Loyal yet shy, the world could not run
without your support
A genuine Sorting Hat quiz
brought to you by Quizilla
First time I've ever been Sorted into Hufflepuff. Usually it's Ravenclaw or Gryffindor...
Counted the miles from the bike trip: approximately 138 miles for the weekend, max. speed for the entire trip 41.0 miles/hour. I'm pleasantly surprised my hands aren't more sore than they are. Being the stoker (rear person) on a tandem (two-seat bicycle) means that I don't have control over the brakes, steering or shifting. The captain (the front person) has all the control. My job is to (1) pedal and provide more power; (2) watch the rear-view mirror for cars, trucks, semis, tractors, etc.; (3) watch the farm houses for loose dogs and be ready to pepper-spray them to convince them that cyclists do not taste good, and should be left alone. (My [half-serious] suggestions of being allowed to carry eggs, fruit, tomatoes, or water balloons filled with day-glow orange paint, for use on rude drivers, have all been vetoed by my captain. Fortunately, in Wisconsin, we seldom encounter rude drivers, and the rudest ones only pass us a mite too close when there's oncoming traffic. Nobody throws things out their pickup truck windows at us...) So when my computer is telling me we're doing over 30 miles/hour, I tend to death-grip my handlebars, and hope that the road ahead is good and clear of debris...
