I live for it---it's what makes me tick.Not sure how it got started—sometime back in Freshman football, I guess. Going into the locker room after pr...ctice. Fifty guys all hot n sweaty—some with it literally pouring from their pits, down to the waistline. I started getting right up next to one of them to untie my cleats—getting a whiff of some ripe rank pit. The bushy ones were best—all that hair would hold in the funk better. Feet wern't too bad cause mostly new cleats with clean white socks. After a few aisles, she turned and sized me up, I said hello, and with a stupid look on my face, knew that I had been caught leering at her. She asked me “see anything you like”? To which I responded, “Miss, you have some really cool looking shoes on, could I ask you where you got them?” She said that it was none of my business, and besides, they would not have them in my size anyhow. She stared right through my eyes, and her gaze went straight for the front of my jeans, Then she said “get a. Carol looks a bit confused as she says, “Those aren’t our bikes.”“They are now.”“Are you telling me that you brought us out here to trial a new road bike? Where the hell are we going to ride? You don’t go to a mountain to ride a road bike.”“It’s a good thing they aren’t road bikes.”“They sure the hell aren’t mountain bikes.”“True, they are cyclocross bikes.”“Cyclo what?”I laugh, then reply, “In Europe, during the offseason, cyclists put their road bikes away and bring out their cyclocross. I nodded. He took off his cloak and settled it around me. Itsmelled of him, I felt surrounded. And warm. ?Better?? I nodded. He grinned, settled his arm around my shoulders as easily as ifhe?d been doing it for years. ?I?m Brant Tor, you?re Sai a?LaiJann. Walk withme?? We were already walking, but I nodded anyway. That was how itbegan. The next day, Brant asked my father for my hand in marriage. Itwas refused. By the end of the week, we were married and I was heading backhome with Brant, back.
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