Chasing My Trail

Gin is a spiritual drink for me because with Gin I throw up the least.
Of course, I drink Gin most frequently because of this, so I throw up the least most often.

I went mountain biking.
It wasn't erotic, obviously, but it was something that may have turned you on.
Myself, cascading over little paths with rocks on them.
Mud splashing everywhere.
Mountain biking I can do somewhat confidently because I haven't grievously injured myself on a bicycle yet.
Andie suggested that we take some path or another because she's into the concept of exploring.
And I say that's all fine and good and whatnot, but it's very difficult to explore while you're wearing your pajamas.
Unless you're exploring the jewelry section of Wal-Mart at 8pm, but that's another sort of thing.
I'm a bit of a homebody, granted.
I tend to not risk or...participate, but that's because I received so many participation ribbons while growing up.
So, according to the trophy case, which only contains participation ribbons, I have participated enough.
Not so for Andie, however.
She has this habit of pushing forwards at the precise time I want to go home.
Like, at Mad Rock the first time that we went there?
Mad Rock is the place in Bay Roberts that you never go to as a kid because it's way out in the east end, and paddling your bike beyond your piano teacher's house would be crazy.
Anyway, she wanted to get right on down there by the rocks.
The slippery ones, y'know what I mean?
Wherever the signs tell you not to go. That's where she's headed.
In Banff - this is unrelated - in Banff they had signs around the hotel because you weren't allowed to go into certain areas.
Wanna guess why?
Oh, come on. Guess. It's not like you're doing anything important at your job.
Unless you're the mayor.
Is this the mayor? Denny? I forget what he likes to be called.
He officiated a wedding I was at once.
Anyway, Denny, if you're reading this, you can get back to the slush funds or whatever.
The rest of you?
Anybody?
Snails.
They found special, endangered snails that you weren't allowed to trod on.
Then some idiot tourists wandered in there and got into trouble because tourists are idiots.
Ever been travelling elsewhere?
You were an idiot at the time.
Don't feel bad; my family owned a motorhome when I was a kid.
We were a tribe of idiots right up and down the eastern seaboard.
When you're on vacation - wait...I think I wrote about this before.
Try this post, I think. 
My theory is that when you're on vacation, since it costs so much money and since it is for such a brief, particular amount of time, people tend to lose sight of themselves while vacationing.
And, when you lose sight of yourself, you tend to forget about other people.
And, when you tend to not think of others, you tend to be an asshole.
Hence...
Banff was a real tourist town. I witnessed a lot of their habits, all of which were annoying.
"A postcard town" is the tab you want to hit for more Banff stories.
Most involve me not closing the deal with women and getting high a lot.
Anyway, Andie goes into dangerous places.
If you're on a hike with her, you're going to get your boots wet.
Inevitable.
So, on the bicycle I was sort of going for it, and she liked that.
And I liked that she liked that, and I liked going for it because I never go for it.
Like, when I was a kid, Dennis would always build ramps for our GTs (sleds, if you're from the mainland), and he'd immediately goad me to go first because he knew that I never would.
I always hesitate. I always avoid fractures.
With the missus, though, I go out of my comfort zone a little bit.
I second-guess less.
I still pay close attention to the signage though, as that's something she tends to miss, and we don't want to kill any snails that are in short supply.
I'll upload a photo of us on our little bike go-about.
We crossed a brook twice!
You'll see in the picture that, by Warford standards, I am smiling.
It's good to get out sometimes.

Oh,this is just an aside, but check out this picture.

I already put this on my social media bullshit, but here it is again.
Foodland parking lot here in Pasadena.
That's the keys to the car, and the window is open.
I'm used to Newfoundlanders leaving things unlocked, but even this was a bit far for me.
That's a Mercedes SL, which means that, even by Mercedes standards, it's expensive.