I had biked about 15 miles when I stopped for a moment to adjust my equipment. The remote country road had no shoulder, so I was perched over the saddle about a foot or so into the road with my left foot clipped in and my whole apparatus leaning to the right. Meanwhile, my left hand was zipping the underseat pouch, and my right had held my phone (which was tracking mileage and speed).
During the 2 minutes that I was stopped there, a couple cars passed me from behind. As I was about to finish my tinkering, get a drink, and mount up again, I heard a vehicle slowing to a stop behind me.
"Oh, how nice," I thought, "someone has stopped to see if I need help."
No, I was wrong.
The angry lady knitting her brow in the pilot-seat of the slowing truck only wanted to issue me a warning,
"Get yourself a toad!!" she hollered. And then she was gone--speeding up and turning to the right.
"Weird," I thought. "A toad?" "Why is she so angry anyway?" It was a beautiful day--no toads in sight. Or, maybe I hadn't heard quite right. Maybe she didn't say toad--maybe road. Maybe she wanted me to get off the road. Well, that would explain her anger. But I couldn't stop hearing the angry bark, "Get yourself a toad!" and giggling the rest of the way home.
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