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So, back in 2002 or so, before we were married, Mr. Clodfobble bought a rather expensive mountain bike, thinking he would really like to take up the hobby. Unfortunately he rode the bike a grand total of six times, and it has been hanging out in a series of garages ever since. We tried to sell it in 2005, but got no takers.
Completely out of nowhere this morning he decided that he wanted to take a ride on his bike (he's taking some vacation days from work today and tomorrow.) As he was leaving, I casually told him not to crash and get run over by a car.
About 15 minutes later he calls me.
"So what if I crash and dive headfirst into a stagnant pond instead?"
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