[cheesy]

In an effort not to be one of those retired guys that die in his easy chair, I rejoined a bicycle and ski club that I belonged to in the 80's. Because it's kind of crappy weather for old coots to ride in, they get together on Tuesday mornings for a 3 to 5 mile walk.

Being a bit more goofy than your typical coot, I rode the Ural to the start. This older gent walked up to me as I was taking off my helmet and asks, in an Eastern European accent, "Is that an Ooral?" Then he introduced himself as Gene, an old Russian guy who's been in the US for 40 years. Then out of the blue, he asks if I'm Mike. Someone let out my secret that I planned to show up.

There were about 9 of us on the walk this morning. Gene and I did the 5 mile route together and BS'd the entire walk. Turns out, Gene was in the Russian Army and spent three years north of the Arctic Circle While he was stationed there, his vehicle was an old Ural motorcycle. I probably learned more about the Russian Army from him in an hour, than I've ever known.

BTW, not only do my quads ache, so do my biceps.