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Making a Trail

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

Our hotel near Sanur in Bali had a bunch of bikes you could use for free. Becky had the idea to go cruise along the beach boardwalk on them. In large part, this was a good idea.

We saw some fisherman doing their thing:


A guy flying a hilarious penis shaped novelty kite:


And we just got to enjoy the views:


Now, let me preface this next part by saying I don’t fancy myself Lance Armstrong. Not just because I have two beanbags, but because ever since I got hit by a car on my bike in seventh grade I’m pretty much terrified of biking near large vehicles. Like, can’t squeeze a blade of grass between my buttchecks scared. Anyway, I think I got over that fear a little and we had a great ride for about an hour.



Little did I know Becky is the worst adult bike rider I’ve ever met. She crashed into a Swedish dude. Fell inexplicably in a quiet alley. It was funny and endearing. She forgot how to use the brakes so she would slowly glide into stationary objects. When she passed people on the boardwalk she would nervously steer and overadjust again and again, barely missing them. Unfortunately she adjusted a bit too much one time and ended up crashing into the sand. She almost ripped her entire big toenail off when she tried to dig her foot into the edge of the boardwalk. Gross. But she was a trooper, and besides the bruised ego, she even Macgyvered a pretty good field bandage with a maxi pad and her hairband; well done doc.


After the crash, we walked the bikes home and I went and got band aids from the pharmacy. She’s doing a lot better, the toenail will likely hang on, and she should be good to go for Machu Picchu.

I love you babe. Hopefully some day you’ll be the mother of my children, but it’s clear now, I’m going to be the one that teaches them how to ride a bike.