Fat Tires and Tiny Glasses

Today, partly stemming from needing some sort of exercise to get the lungs going, and greatly as an exercise in maintaining my sanity regarding working with Dad on a home improvement project, I decided to ride the Goodwill Bike all the way from Loveland to Ft. Collins, birthplace of the revered Fat Tire beer. The wind was practically nonexistent, the scenery was lovely, with the foothills of the Rockies to my left, but all that still didn't get me there in time for the last tour of the Brewery at 3:30. I arrived 15 minutes late, and had no choice but to sit in the crowded tasting area and get four samples of the various beers on offer. I sat next to two lovely ladies who became friends exactly 23.5 years before. One lived in Ft. Collins, and the other lived in Travers City MI, flying out to visit. This was her first sightseeing jaunt after landing and they both, in addition to being charming company, were kind enough to snap my picture. The red face ain't from the beer, folks, it's from being perched on a ladder for the past week. I officially have the weirdest tan lines ever. After cycling around the lovely downtown Ft. Collins has, and after the beer-tasting, I rode along the Cache de Poudre River (French for Powderkeg?) and snapped some pix of the massive cottonwood trees. From there, I pedalled, much parched and much fatigued, back home. All told, I cleared about 30 miles.
On the way, I found a brand new hat along the highway. Considering the sun and also considering how burnt my nose is (it feels like hamburger) I snatched it up and put it on. I now appear to be a fan of South Carolina football. Yay Cocks!