rewrite this content and keep HTML tags
Further to yesterday’s post, I remain trapped in a frozen hellscape:
The weather notwithstanding, I really do like it where I live. In fact, I recently received an email from someone wondering if he should move up here, and I offered a robust and heartily enthusiastic appraisal of the area. I mean sure, there are innumerable reasons not to live in New York City, but if you are going to live here it seems to me you should at least live someplace where the riding is good, and I’d argue that you’ve got better access to good riding from where I live than from any other place in the city.
Plus, we have one (1) whole protected bike lane:
And there’s even free Western-themed art for the taking:
It’s signed by the artist and everything!
Anyway, all of this is to say I had real estate on the brain yesterday as I headed out for a little lunchtime spin, and as I passed through the wild and remote portion of the neighborhood that overlooks the Mighty Hudson a sign caught my eye:
I was immediately arrested by the photograph, and it was clear from both the phone and the expression that while Charles Sciberras may be busy at all times making deals, he’s never too busy to throw a smile your way:
Around these parts we call that “class.”
But what was Charles Sciberras selling? A nearby arrow offered a clue:
I followed the arrow to another arrow, and then to another arrow, and then to yet another arrow, and from the sheer height of them all I began to suspect that, in addition to being an affable wheeler-dealer, Charles Sciberras was also a giant:
As I drew closer, the street narrowed and its surface deteriorated into something vaguely resembling gravel:
And, finally, there it was:
So if you’re reading this, person who emailed me about the neighborhood, I found you a house. I also looked it up, and they’re only asking $1,450,000. Just make sure when you buy it Charles Sciberras knows I sent you, because I plan to hit him up for a finder’s fee.
In fact, I may even become a real estate agent myself:
BRING YOUR CONTRACTOR AND YOUR RENE HERSES!
Nestled deep in New York City’s exclusive gravel district, this rustic retreat will make you the envy of all your riding buddies! They’ll beg to borrow your garden hose after the big ride so they can wash off their dirty Crusts before they head back to their tiny Brooklyn apartments. Spacious backyard is ideal for entertaining. Can you say “Barbecue Bro-Down?” Fill your Fab’s Chest with meats from the kosher market and then fire up the hibachi! Spare rooms aplenty for visiting cycling media influencers. Minutes from the OCA, walk to worship, and only one bus ride and then two trains after that to Lorimer Street. Bronx address confers instant street cred, actual location ensures no interaction with the rest of the Bronx. Open house this Sunday, RSVP only, bring pre-qualification and proof of #whatpressureyourunning.
Now all I need is a sign:
I asked the AI to make me a “Sign advertising a real estate agent named Tan Tenovo, with a photo of Tan Tenovo smiling and talking on a cellular telephone” and that’s what I got.
I’m sorry if you’re the person with the number is “8585-360-3 333,” because your phone is going to be ringing off the hook.
Meanwhile, in competitive cycling news, a bunch of riders recently quit the Etoile de Bessèges in protest:
Apparently there were cars on the course:
So basically professional cyclists can breathe all the carbon monoxide they want when they’re on the clock, but if they do it on their own time they’re in trouble:
This is probably for the best, because it was only a matter of time before some aspiring Cat 3 decided to try Zwifting in his garage while his Hyundai was running in order to prepare for the big Fondo:
Come to think of it, has anybody checked on Geoff?
