Condolences for the death of Betty White popped into the mailbag in a comforting, fast way after the grim announcement of her pending demise (and the photo of her crack) aired on this channel on Wednesday. Aluminum mountain bike frames are dropping like, well, aluminum bike frames these days. Maybe it's the heat. But it would seem Old Betty touched a lot of lives in one way or another, and that's all well and good I suppose. But something was missing, I reckoned, and one email really said it all.
From: Dangeorus Dan
RE: Betty White
"What? No kiss goodbye?"
Indeed, Dan, that's a valid point. Sometimes a man just needs to say goodbye the right way.
And, given the fact that I've got the next 5 days off from work, the pending 100 degree temperatures that are about to infect the right coast, and the now-voiced demand from the masses (or just Dan) for Betty White to have a proper wake (a slightly dangerous proper wake) and I think I know what's coming: a farewell tour.
I'm still brainstorming ideas for a slogan:
"Betty White to Black"
"The Golden Girls do Green County"
Big picture - it doesn't matter. The Betty White Farewell Tour is happening this weekend, loosely defined as:
This Friday, which suddenly has become today, 8 PM: Wind down the Trek demo here at the rancho relaxo, then go see if Betty White can superfly the paranormal loop like the superfly can. Chances are, probably not.
Saturday: A day of rest. And probably some epoxy. Even a dead superstar needs a rest day.
Sunday Morning: Gravel Church.
View Gravel Church in a larger map
Although the route happens to pass adjacent to a few nice churches, I can't claim it's spiritual in the traditional sense of the word. But there is a bakeshop along the way that might make you think about God, so that's something anyway.
Monday, 10 AM: The Tour De Berg rolls from Braley's pond at 10 AM. Assuming Betty White is still alive and kicking, she'll be rolling Le Rocktown Tour with the best of them, though admittedly far, far behind the best of them.
Tuesday: Brokenback to the observatory. At night, of course, a familiar route for the old girl which could be fortunate if the Tour De Berg has left her further debilitated than she started, which is almost certain.
Wednesday: Likely crippled well beyond the point of safety by this point, both of us that is, a two-fer is in order. Some kind of morning loop with the 31 year-old love of my life while our sitter chokes/entertains/chokes the tots, followed by an evening brownie crit that, if Betty ain't dead yet, is certain to finish her off.
In my head, I liken this effort to a sort of rural, 100 degree, bike personification of Weekend at Bernies.
Friends of Betty, you're all invited along. RSVP's welcomed, but not required.
Say your goodbyes. Drink a 40 or two. But, above all else, take the ride.
Like life itself, Betty won't stick around long.
Up, up, up.