the best and worst of mootis: week one

Many of you, dear readers, know that my cycling companion is a man of many nicknames. Perhaps the most popular nickname these days is "Mootis." So, now we're all on the same page reference-wise. At the request and suggestion of our friend Brad, I am here tonight with the first of what I hope will be an eight part weekly series: The Best and Worst of Mootis. (And heck, who says I should stop this once we get home?)

After receiving Brad's request via the Twitter, I spent the good part of the rest of today's ride thinking about what Mootis Moments from the last week really stood out. (Aside: for the record, we had a pretty decent day of riding despite waiting out the rain til after 11 a.m. - 68.1 miles total, landing us in the freight train section of a campground in New London, OH.)

So, without further ado:

BEST MOOTIS MOMENT, WEEK ONE: Two nights ago, we rolled into the Terrace Lakes Campground as the sun was setting and no staff people were to be found. What looked like what was once the bathhouse was a pile of cinders by the front gate. Mootis proceedex to walk us around the completely deserted campground, past the campers that sit empty til the weekends, until we came upon a few guys drinking Busch Lights by an end site trailer. I saw them eyeing Mootis up as soon as they saw him. Let's just say these didn't look like the type of guys who like being approached by a hairy man clad completely in spandex. Mootis staggered through a few moments of awkward explanation while I hung back semi-hating myself for being part of this sporty duo, and suddenly Terry, the sunburnred, ponytailed gentleman in the muscle shirt was giving us a ride in his golf cart back to our bikes, then we loaded our bags in the back of the cart, pushing the empty Busch cans aside, and we pushed our suddenly lighter bikes up the big hill behind Terry and his cart to a site right near the second bath house, which we'd have been lucky to find on our own, let alone while hauling our massive loaded bikes up the hill. So, cheers to you, Mootis, for breaking the spandex barrier, making a pal, and allowing me not to work so hard.

WORST MOOTIS MOMENT, WEEK ONE: This will be a less detailed description, but trust me when I tell you it's for the best. I'll just say that in our hotel room in Pittsburgh, I walked out of yhe bathroom and found our friend Mootis in a very compromising position with the Chamois Butter (or, "Chammy Butter," as we say). This substance is what we use to prevent terrible rawness in our nether regionz, by the way. My sense is that it is more essential for dudes than for girls. "Oh c'mon," you might say, "You've lived with this guy for more than two years and have been with him for more than three. How bad could it have been?" I'll just tell you that an image has been burned in my mind's eye and everything is different now.

As it turns out, both of these moments can be filed under the category of "shameless." I wonder if that will become a running theme.

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