The Bureau of Livestock and Mining, indeed.

Here I am on my trusty steed, a retired Yosemite rental bike. Bullwinkle, Potter, Ammon, and I used to wage “Bike Wars,” coming at each other gladiator-style (head-on) on our respective rides. Basically, if you put a foot down, you scored a point; the goal was the lowest score possible. Potter would sneak up from behind and once rammed me so hard he taco’ed my back tire. Ammon, too, had an aggressive technique where he’d put you in a headlock, and then ride you into a wall or parked car. Bike Wars came to an end when Bullwinkle tried to kick me over and I accidentally sucked his foot between the front wheel and the fork. This bent the wheel and the fork . . . and broke Bullwinkle’s foot, ripping off his toenail!

Funny stuff. Maybe I’ll go climbing this weekend. It’s good to know my old friend Renan is still living the dream, and maybe even getting paid a bit to do so. I can only presume he’s gotten weirder in the last 6 years, a frightening thought.