skinned palms and explosives

I hit some railroad tracks on my way to class today. Usually when I misjudge a distance and hop into a big metal rail, I un-clip and put a foot down. No drama, and I continue making engine noises and yelling "IMA DUMP TRUCK!" to scare people on the bike path.

But today I was wearing my extra special shoes that occasionally and unexpectedly refuse to disengage from the pedal.

Now I have medical tape for palm skin:

After refusing to grant a frazzled-shopping-cart-pushing-bag-woman passage on the trail until she kissed my boo boo, I went home to watch a Cash Cab marathon and cry.

But my bald guy driving a mini van and asking stupid questions session kept getting interrupted by two bald guys performing a movie length advertisement for the Dodge Challenger:

And I've decided that I must go see it. The Rock grew facial hair just so I, the lowly movie consumer, could distinguish him from Vin Diesel. That's an effort that I won't take for granted.
 

FAST5 (the title isn't really all caps, but it should be) is the ideal movie. Lots of people taking themselves too seriously, going nowhere as fast as possible, and ultimately accomplishing nothing. It's just like bike racing with more explosions. Pure heaven.

Speaking of bike racing and explosions, the first West Virginia race of the year is this Sunday. But I think I mentioned that yesterday in my wildly exciting post about hexagonal tools. In any case, it's all I feel like thinking about. At least it's mostly harmless.