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Got Viagra! ... And Two Broken Wrists.
Sorry fellas, this is no titillating sex post, though there is a wrist involved...
My right wrist. The one where all it's at, supposedly.
Yep, I am the guy who gets 36 mpg and asked to those who claim 45, "how do you do it."
I normally go 75-80 and often above, and generally have fun with my 2007 America -- that's what I bought her for.
But the lousy mileage was a concern, and to see how much the right wrist was to blame, for the last tankful I drove at skateboard speed.
Shifting up at the last moment, killing the engine softly with my low revs. Elderly oriental gentleman and blue hairs zoomed by, other bikers probably thought I should get a Vespa. Not safe either, if you do 55 around the Beltway you are not keeping up, not a good thing...
Anyway, before, I hit 132 miles when the engine went put-put, and I started this morning's commute at 129 expecting to finish the 18 miles to work on the main tank.
Gee, there goes that theory. It took me only to 137.
FIVE lousy miles is all I got from all that suffering and humiliation.
It doesn't even take me to the nearest strip club. Screw that.
So much for "it's all in the wrist," guys.
I'm back, world.
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