And now, the rest of the story

What Peter didn't mention...

So we drive to the start of the race and get there about 6:15 a.m. Parked in a big field. Soon, some people from Cincinnati who were staying at the same hotel pulled in after us. One man was wearing his bib shorts inside out.

Inside out. The red chamois exposed. As Peter said, he looked like a baboon. But none of his friends were saying anything, and although I desperately wanted to, neither did we. (Aside: When Schultz drove up and I showed him, the look on his face was priceless.)

After the ride, as we were leaving the post-ride pizza tent, he and a woman (wife? friend?) came in. So as we walked by, I stopped, pointed at his shorts and said, "Hey, I've got to ask you. Is it more comfortable that way?"

"What way?" he asked.

Then he looked down.

Then she looked down. And she started to howl, a laugh that meant either it was a complete surprise to her, too, or she is the best actress this side of Meryl Streep.

With sort of a sheepish grin, he looked up and said that no wonder he was feeling a bit of a hot spot (or something like that, I don't remember his exact words).

Needless to say, I posed, ass-to-ass, with him.