This weekend I decided that it would be significantly easier to reach my goal of completing a triathlon if I actually owned a bicycle. So Mirm and I proceeded down to the local bike shop. We had not spent five minutes talking to the owner before he said, "I'm sorry, I've got three other customers I'm attending to. Do you mind if I hand you off to my grandson? He's 21 and much better looking." Cue: eye-rolling. Fortunately the kid, coincidentally a triathlete, was a good sport and didn't get embarrassed or anything. And I have to admire the grandfather's business savvy. He knows that, statistically, a couple of young foxes like Mirm and myself are more likely to buy from a young guy. And I did. Got me a shiny, new Gary Fisher Tiburon hybrid bike...and a rack for my car. Don't worry, though. I made the kid earn his sale. After pumping him for triathlon advice and a tutorial on removing the front wheel, I made him try to wrestle the bike into my little car for a good 15-20 minutes before I finally caved and bought the rack.