I have a serious disability, as if it wasn’t already obvious to all of you even if you’ve never met me or even know who I am.
No, it’s not something that requires I use a wheelchair. Nor is it terminal idiocy. Nor am I Seth MacFarlane. It’s far worse.
Well, except from the last one. The last one is the worst.
See, I’ve never owned a bike. And… well, I can ride them. But I’m not very good on them. I can balance, ride quite normally and generally not immediately die – nabbing bikes from friends all the time in my youth seems to have helped.
Along with the times I used to nab bikes off friends at uni and ride them around Preston at 4am.
And the times I’d borrow the bikes from friends in Leeds and ride them around Hyde Park at 4am.
And the time that bike hit the kerb and I went over the handlebars and my knee went all gooey at about 5am. Damn stupid bike and kerb.
But anyway, I’m shit on bikes. And I’ve never owned one. And that’s pretty weird, I think. I sort of want a bike to get to and from work with, mainly because it’s not the bus and it would be a little bit quicker than walking.
But I know that, as a result of my lack of experience behind the handlebars, I would likely end up dead within a day. Maybe two.
Didn’t even want a bike anyway. Stupid bike shits.
It’s fun that even though I don’t care for MacFarlane, it’s a story in one of his shows that’s on right now that gave me the inspiration for this blog. I say ‘fun’, I mean ‘incredibly dull’.