Life in the Fast Lane

Utah is hot. And it's not just the "Sheri Meyer" kind of hot, but the "hotter than the devil's sweatpants" kind of hot. I'm pretty sure I just got too used to the SoCal weather. Every morning you woke up with that apprehensive feeling in your stomach thinking, "Hmmm, will it be 74 degrees today, or just 72? Or maybe somewhere in between?" The suspense just consumed you. Quite different right now in Sandy. It's so hot here that at this very moment I'm not sure where my bottom ends and the where the chair I'm sitting in begins. I think they have just melted together into a type of bootylicious alloy that has now made me bionic. And given me 4 more legs.

But I digress. The real reason for this post is to talk about my daily commute. For most people, commuting is a very drab chore that they must endure every day. For me, it's a non-stop adventure full of near-misses, mystical escapades, and death-defying feats. Yes, people, I travel with "The Great Gorrag" every day.

"But I've never heard of The Great Gorrag!" you foolishly reply. Probably because every time his name is spoken at least 3 of your eardrums collapse and someone from Chrysler gets fired. You see, The Great Gorrag is the bike I ride to TRAX (July's theme, "Coming in 2017: air conditioning!"). But he's not just a bike - he's nearly human. He has more of a soul than I do. Probably because he consumed mine.

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Before I show you a much-coveted picture of The Great Gorrag, let me explain one thing. Last month I borrowed my brother Steven's bike to ride to the train station. And within 2 days, it was stolen. Really, it was stolen. I guess Elder Steven Meyer should look forward to more walking when he gets home from Germany. And so, from that moment on, I decided to call upon the powers of The Great Gorrag:

Let me explain some of the awesome, Chuck-Norris-like features of this bike. Note the mountain bike tire in the front, and the street bike tire in the back! That's for either riding on the road, or riding along the backs of venomous orangutans. Next, note that I've taped up the handlebars in slick black tape. That's because some of The Great Gorrag's Black Juices started oozing from the handlebars. And something that is much more subtle is the gear changers. Amazingly, Gorrag has transformed himself from an 18-speed to a 3 1/2-speed.

This is the pinnacle of Gorrag's radicoolness. The seat not only provides the comfort of a wooden church pew, but shapes the booty into a toned masterpiece. Observe below:

But my adventures don't end once I get to the train station. Once I get on board, I get to experience the full and refreshing scent of public transportation. And without fail I end up sitting next to this guy:

'nuf said.

So the next time you talk to an eye doctor and blurt out, "Wow, you and your wife are both doctors? You must be rich!", just remember that at any given moment you may find yourself facedown on the pavement with two different, and very mysterious, bike tire tracks. Maybe I should take this to work:

Like I said, it's very hot in Utah... :)