Yes, worse than being my own dad, I'm venturing into being your dad, which is really no good. While I've been enjoying the rides, night after night, dawdling around the back, picking up jettisoned bottles and tail lights, fixing flat tires, and lighting the way for dim bulbs (yeah you know who are) word has filtered back to those of us riding in the back seat, sucking our thumbs, that there has been a whole bunch of rolling through stop signs going on (getting every advantage you can in the great race, I guess). If the stop-sign-roller-througher were any good at it, believe me I would not say a word. But I have personally seen a few near misses, and know that while God protects idiots like you on a daily basis, some day God's going to take a day off and you're going to be out of luck.
If you roll through and get hit, I'm not sitting around waiting for this thing to arrive. I have beer back at the Grandpa van and it will be getting warm. Better to shoot you and bury you back back at the Park. Believe - nobody will care. And my beer will be cold. Yeah, as cold as my heart.
So I am asking for this practice to stop. If you don't get hit, you may lead somebody through, thinking it's clear, to get hit. There's not much I can do about stopping you of course, except have you shot by a firing squad back at the parking lot. And if you don't think I can't find volunteers you'd be dead wrong. But you're going to be anyway, right?
Anyway, we roll at 6, until further notice. Weather looks a tad cooler but still pleasant - and no rain in the forecast. Charge up - load up - see you tonight. I'll bring a blindfold. Anybody still smoke?