Now I am old, crippled, and unworthy. Perhaps I'll look fast enough if I simply lean it against a bench, pretending I've come far; like Mark Twain, I suppose I have and should be glad to look the part. Perhaps I should paint it olive drab and scratch it up a bit.
I do promise that this will NOT be riding on Shoal Survivor's bike rack, dripping in salt. It's older sibling has inherited that chore.
PS. My wife tells me I have 2 mistresses now, both starting with "B": bike and boat. She's right. The past few nights have been consumed with tweeking and minor additions, just like the boat.