How much do you like peaches?

I happen to love them. And when offered a 92 fluid ounce bottle of gourmet peaches imported from Spain, of course I accepted. My friends Mark and Deidra Smith just moved from San Diego to Utah. There are just some things that you don’t take along on a move like that, and so they offered the peaches to me. Only problem was that I was riding my bike that day, but hey, these were gourmet peaches. So I tucked them under my right arm like a football and hit the road.

I had to get back to the VA Hospital to work, 2-3 miles away, and quickly realized it was going to take a while in the low gear I was in. But I couldn’t shift gears because of the huge jar under my arm. I thought I would just reach over and change gears with my left hand (don’t ask me why I didn’t just use the other shifter). After bouncing off the curb, unable to reach the brakes at this point, I decided to abandon ship. After a quick hop off the bike and a tuck-and-roll maneuver, I came to rest in the grass along Regent’s Road. First concern: the peaches were fine. Second: by some miracle I was uninjured. Wow! Was I feeling lucky. Until I rolled over to get up and placed my hand squarely and firmly in a fresh pile of the stuff that makes me question why they are called man’s best friend. With poop squished between my fingers, I shifted the gears, got back on the bike and headed for the VA. I am happy to report that the peaches were fabulous.