Racing to Assisted Living

I suppose I should say that I had another bike race this weekend. Yup, the dreaded Chicken Dinner Road Race.

Chicken Dinner is a road name by the way. There was no Kentucky Fried involved. If there were Kentucky Fried I would have stopped after I got dropped on the first lap, and , you know, ate some. But alas there was no chicken at chicken dinner. I don’t really know what happened in the race because I popped when someone accelerated as they pulled through (again) in a small chase group I was in after the hilly section.

I do know that some other dropped guys rode with racers from other categories – you know, like the race official told us not to before the race. A bit aggravating, but it has come to my attention that “if you aren’t cheating you aren’t trying” – so its ok. It may make me a moron, but I think I will just continue not trying.

The best part of the race was when Steve Parker and I sprinted it out for like last place. I would have been faster if I weren’t laughing – watch out next time bro. Wait a minute. Maybe the best part was Jesse Kroll rocking a pink mohawk – hell I don’t know.

Anyway, enough of that crap. I saw this the other day…



I know you can’t really read the window stickers, so you will have to trust me. It says…


Trinity Assisted Living
Where your family becomes a part of ours.

Wow, nothing says assisted living like an F350. A jacked up F350. And nothing says Trinity like a diamond plate tool box. Exactly what kind of assisted living are we talking about here – because I’m not gonna lie- there have been a few times when I could have used an F350, you know, too assist my living.

I guess I could call the number. The cell phone number. Nothing implies a comfort and stability like an assisted living home with a no land line?

Yeah, then I look at the plate…



Oh, for sure. That’s right – it’s a chick truck. Nothing pulls chicks like assisted living stickers. Not to mention that nothing pulls assisted livers like chick truck license plates. I couldn’t help but notice there was no chick in the truck. Just a dude who was wearing his hat sideways half the time I was behind him. It’s always good to turn care of your family over to a dude in a sideways baseball cap.

I may keep this place in mind, you know, just in case the in-laws tick me off. Where your family becomes a part of ours indeed!