OK, so I’m an addict. Please feed my addiction. Really, it’s for a good cause.
Here’s the deal: I NEED to ride a century. I NEED to ride it in less than ten hours. I NEED to ride it on one wheel. 100:10:1 That’s the goal. On May 15th. I need your support. Well technically the American Lung Association needs your support. They won’t let me ride unless I raise $75. No $75, no century.
The American Lung Association will take the $75 and throw it towards the development of some whiz bang drug to fight lung cancer, or maybe to some smoking cessation programs, who knows, maybe they’ll even lobby to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels. (Don’t hold your breath.) Who could argue with this? It’s not like I need $75 to buy the family tickets to the monster truck car-crushing extravaganza. Noooo! It’s for a good cause. Really. $75. That’s all.
In fact, let’s make it easier. $10. That’s all I ask. Just $10. I would ask for just $5 but the minimum donation amount is $10. You know, credit card processing fees and all. If I can get 8 people to donate $10, I’m in. Eight people donating $10 in five days. Piece of cake, right? $10. That’s all. The price of a couple fancy double mochas and it’s tax deductible. You can do it. I know you can. It’s for a good cause. Helping people breathe. Treating lung cancer. Cleaning the air. Reducing the incidence of asthma. Asthma in cute kittens. $10. Well, maybe not kittens. OK, cute kids. Ugly kids too. Ugly kids, wheezing, gasping for breath, sucking on their inhalers, need $10.
I’ll work hard in your name, for your ten bucks. I’ll sacrifice an entire weekend, drive 300 miles to Portland, wake up too freakin early, drive to Beaverton and then ride 104 miles to Pacific City. Ouch, my ass is going to hurt! Yeah, there’ll be scantily clad cheerleaders urging me on. But I won’t pay them any mind. I’ll be focused on Pacific City. There will be hoards of bystanders dropping their jaws in disbelief as this giant unicycle goes blazing past, a skinny guy with a blistered behind perched on top. My eyes will be glued to the road straight ahead. There will be people (2000 of them) riding…what are they called? duocycles? shouting encouraging words. But all I will hear will be the wind and the ominous sound of cars rushing by. Focus. Determination. Endurance. Aching ass. Oh, verily will I suffer. In your name. For the kids, and the kittens. All I ask for is $10. In advance. Paid with a credit card to the American Lung Association, to my fundraising account.
Here’s the page: http://action.lungusa.org/site/TR/BikeTrek/ALAMP_Mountain_Pacific?px=4183369&pg=personal&fr_id=1630
Haven’t you ever wanted to give ten bucks to that bum who is holding the sign that says “Why lie? I need a beer.” ? Huh? Haven’t you? Yeah, me too. But then I think “Yeah that’d be fun, but what a waste.” So here I am holding a sign that says “Why lie? I need to ride 104 miles. In ten hours. On one wheel.” So you give the $10. Not to me. No. To the American Lung Association. The last thing you should do is give $10 to a unicycle addict. I’d just go and spend it on a new Maggie for my KH 26. Instead that money is kept at a safe distance from me, the addict. The American Lung Association will spend it trying to stop cigarette addicts from smoking. How cool is that?
http://action.lungusa.org/site/TR/BikeTrek/ALAMP_Mountain_Pacific?px=4183369&pg=personal&fr_id=1630
Go there. You’ll see some very polite, bland, wholesome, super lame milquetoast plea for money. Guess what? I didn’t write it. I bet if they saw this sniveling panhandling they’d probably yank it and replace it with the original “suggestion”. Go there. Hit the “Donate to My Ride” button. Skip the $50 button. Cruise past the $100 button. Be careful not to hit the $200 button! Select the “Enter an amount” button. Don’t feel cheap. I’m not asking for $200. I’m asking for $10. Enter $10. They won’t accept $5. You’d pay $5. The credit card company would charge $1.50 and The American Lung Association would be left with exactly diddly squat. They need $10. From 8 people. I need $10 from 8 people. (That would just about cover the Magura brake for the KH 26, but don’t reward the addict with money. Give it to the American Lung Association. Remember the ugly kids sucking on their inhalers. I used to be one of those kids. Think of the kittens. If we clean up the air (which, incidentally, would involve my driving, oh, about 700 miles altogether. Believe me, I see the irony. No, it’s not just a bummer, it really is irony.) the kittens will breathe easier too. But that’s just an accident.)
100 miles. 10 hours. 1 wheel.
8 people. $10. 5 days.
Geoff
