As I was riding down a small trail off of a harvested field at sunset, looking for a place to pitch my tent, I wondered to myself, is it deer season yet? The single shot in the distance answered my question, and I quickly threw on my flourescent yellow vest over my sweatshirt. Even though I was off my bike, after a moment's consideration I also put on my white bike helmet for extra visibility, and then began thinking about what my last words should be, in the event that an eager hunter mistook all 6 feet, 5 inches of me for a deer. I decided it would be rather Larson-esque to declare, "Look, they only call me 'Buck...'" But failing that, I figured that stating the obvious would work while trying in vain to plug
... read more
