For this post, I'd like to write about the Tour of Wenatchee from the perspective of my Smith Optics Pivlock sun glasses. It was a good race for me (I won the TT, took second in the road race, and won the overall omnium), but it was awful for my sunglasses -- they hardly saw any action at all. Hear about it from the source:
For the record, my sunglasses speak with a thick pirate/Scottish accent.
Stage one: YAR! I knew it! When the easterlys first started a-pickin' up, an' bringin' bucketloads of rain with them, I knew it wouldn't be a good day fer me. Though I was fitter than fiddlesticks, an' more than ready to protect some eyeballs for a 9 mile time trial, me owner hardly even took me out of me case! Oh he took me out allright, and promptly switched out my lenses to the red ones, but he nigh wore me fer more than the twenty minutes of his dastardly warm up. Then, back in the case fer me -- he reached for his fancy-pants TT helmet with its integrated visor -- AND WON THE CURSED RACE! Think of it -- me in my case, and that scurvy TT helmet a-takin' all the credits. CURSES!
Stage two: CURSES AGAIN!! Damn you, twilight criterium in the rain! May ye drift to the bottom of the drink and die like the grimy bilge-rat you are! Me clear lenses hardly ever get to smell the sour stink of battle, and this seemed like a proper-fit time for them to draw swords and march toward the sound of the guns. So I suited up my clear young lads and readied my blade.
But NO! 'Twern't but two laps into the rain-soaked hell-beast when the grit an' the grime an' the spray slopped up my lenses, rend'ring them useless as a gudgeon without a pintle. Choosin' between water in the eyes and blindness, Sam chose water in the eyes (and a goodly amount of grit and grime). He plucked me off his head, and stowed me in-pocket for the remainder of the race. Mind ye, Sam's race was cut mighty short by those Canadian scallywags, who hit out so hard in the first laps as to shatter the field and send Sam out the back in a hurry. Hardly ten laps into the race, Sam pulled the plug -- along with two-thirds of the rest of the field.
Stage three: CURSES THRICE OVER!!!!!! If there were ever a day of wet weather to rival Davey Jones last day at sea, this be it. The rain came down thicker than deck planks, an' the spray off the wheels felt like standing over the blow-hole of bowhead. I stayed in me case all the live long day. CURSES! Sam went off and took second on the stage, and wrapped up the omnium nice and tight -- while I sat in my quarters and stewed like a mutineer in the brig. Wenatchee Omnium, you'll rue the day....