The Genesis of the Pale Rider

Why hello, I didn't see you over there.

For my maiden adventure, I rode my bike from New York City to Trenton, New Jersey - a distance of 87 miles. Objective: DeLorenzo's on Hamilton Avenue, an establishment known for its "tomato pies" as they call pizza in Trenton. The ride took hours and hours, perhaps around 7 of them. By the end of the trip I felt like my arms and my ass were going to fall off. However, the Pale Rider presses on.

I was joined by my son and business partner, H.W. Plainview (actually, it was my friend Anish). Anish is quite the rider, not as pale as I am, supple, knowledgeable and sleek. I had trouble keeping up with my friend, but fortunately he had advised me the day before to bring some Payday candy bars as they are packed with peanuts and do not melt. They are, for sure, a biker's friend.

How was the pizza, you ask? It was good. A very non-pretentious place where New Jersey natives hang out and apparently talk about how difficult it might be to become a chess master (this is actually what the people next to us were discussing).

Anyhow, that's all I have to say about that.