So, I’ve just come back from a lovely, late-night ride. (Aside: for those who’ve never tried it -do. It’s such a great feeling: no traffic, no crazy pedestrians, no nutsy commuters. Just long stretches of quiet and off-peak light sequencing. Don’t be tempted to stuff in your i-pod, just listen to the throat clearing of an old Landcruiser coming up behind, and revel in the silken chill of passing a park or a creek somewhere between where you live and nowhere in particular.)
But what, pray tell, was I doing out for a ride at this time of night?
Well may you ask.
I was, bizarrely, feeling motivated.
Someone mentioned that they were not seeing much “sausage” on this blog (her language not mine), so I scooted out to DISC to watch a little velodrome action in the search of suitable “sausage” in helmet. I was not disappointed. Look at that: 50% of Team Handsome. Who says cycling’s an unfriendly, lady-alienating sport?
eleanor j jackson 
oh. my boyfriend the blog sausage. good times.
Just remember lady, you da sauce. Important to the mark the territory, there's some bike bitches out there who'd pop a tube for some of that sausage. (Actually, I'm aware that neither of you eat meat, so sorry for being so gross. And since when did I start referring to ladies as bitches? God. I've had too much sugar.)