It really takes a while to recover from Vegas. It's been, what, three or four days, and my head is till buzzing from the pinging sound of those one-armed-bandit machines. Or was it Chris ringing a bell in an uncharacteristic macho moment?
Yes, really, he whacked that weight all the way to the top, as Deb and I jumped up and cheered in unison (that's why the picture is blurry). Only in Vegas. In real life, Chris wouldn't be caught dead participating in such displays of prowess.
Vegas has a shifty geography. It's enough to make everyone's head a little askew.
You really have to enter at your own risk. Why is it, for example, that when you are staying at a premium hotel on the strip, the cab ride there from the airport takes you through several freeway overpasses, and costs $35, and when you stay at a business class hotel a mere half mile away, you can get there in less than ten minutes for under ten bucks? Why is it that when someone says a place is two blocks away it takes you 45 minutes to get there?
Like the bike polo match that was supposedly just around the corner. By the time we got there, it was too late to take a decent picture.
I believe that the giant Vegas casinos sit on tectonic plates, and actually change position as you fruitlessly try to navigate its streets.
Interbike is no less confusing. Before I get to the important business of telling you about the great new finds, I'll leave you with a few impressions.
Take this frame, for instance.
Really , the perfect vehicle for your fishnet stockings, don't you agree?
Lusting after an Airstream?
Well, you could always do a pop-up while you let your savings account grow.
Does this message (ahem...) stop you in your tracks?
Well, maybe this one will get you going?
The excesses and the silliness of Vegas sometimes overshadowed the fact that we were really there to celebrate the vehicle that will save the world. Give me just a little more time to recover, and I'll tell you how.