I know coded language when I see it. The Don, what he really says to me is, “I’ll check in with the bicycle la cosa nostra and see what is done to these yellow straps that do not show no respect for our thing.”
He also says:
“…I just happened upon your blog last night…”
Shuddering and on the verge of a panic attack, I lookup one of my old blog posts and I read this shocking passage, by my very own decrepit cloven hoof no less:
“Perhaps Trowbridge is too busy for a quick email, "Thanks, I'll check into this and get back to you soon." Or, perhaps the pedestrian/equestrian portions of his job are amazingly important and utterly demanding of his time that spending the three seconds on quick response would cause complete failure of pedestrian/equestrian infrastructure of this dusty southwest state.”
Realizing now to my absolute horror that I may have offended The Don, I meekly respond to The Don:
“Blog is tongue in cheek humor. Thanks for being a true sport. Most of us bike commuters are in agreement that the straps are difficult to work with.”
Hyperventilating, in code, what I really says to the Don is this, “God father, I meant only to be funny. Thank you for your benevolence, but us bike wise-guys, well, we are having many problems with the yellow strap.”
The Don, he writes back and tells me:
“No worries. I don’t own a car, so I’ll add it to my favorites!”
What he really says is, “Fah-get-ah-bout-it. You owe me a 1975 Lincoln Continental Town Car. I’m gonna keep a eye you from here on out.”
I will now request a meeting to kiss The Don’s ring and show my respects to his benevolence.
Perhaps now I have blown my respectful request of The Don for a Railrunner car devoted only to bike commuters, with hot tub on the upper deck, Al Green and the Peaches and Herb and Barry White playing on surround sound throughout, white shag carpet, disco ball and dance room on the bottom deck, and lava lamps everywhere.
Sorry NM bike commuters.