I see that bike laying on the grass in someone's yard in Iowa next July. It's about 100 degrees out and we're sitting under a tree drinking a 12-pak. Across the street Lance Armstrong is riding by but we don't even look because we're staring at the team Gourmet babes dressed in spandex running under the firehouse sprinklers.
It's 10 am and we got 7 days, 50 more 12-paks, 10 pork chops, and the entire state of Iowa to go.