42 Comments


  • That looks like a totally fun time. Very sweet! And a belated happy birthday. Yeah!

    October 11, 2005
  • Hey Luke, thanks! It was a great, great time. I’m smiling just looking at the pictures again. (And you made it under the wire: it’s still my birthday here on the right-hand coast.)

    October 11, 2005
  • Giant spacegoing crabs.

    Giant spacegoing crabs?

    Giant spacegoing crabs!

    It looks like you all had a great day. Maybe some day I’ll be able to ride 20 miles without my butt falling off, and I will come to New York and ride the Tour de Bob myself.

    October 11, 2005
  • Oh, I think there was some butt-fall-offery among us: because the rally point was my house, the Tour itself was 20.5 miles; the rest of the guys rode a very impressive 35 miles! You’re more than welcome to join the Tour next year.

    Yeah, Giant spacegoing crabs. I’d say you can’t make this stuff up, but (one hopes) Petaja did.

    October 11, 2005
  • happy birthday, bob. i can think of no more joyous gift than a day like that.

    October 11, 2005
  • You’re a great tour guide, a great cook, and a great friend. Who else would we ride an extra 15 miles through deepest Brooklyn to hang out with?

    October 11, 2005
  • The 7.5 miles to get from where the Q train stopped running (Atlantic & Flatbush) to Bob’s house (ass-end of nowhere) was no big deal at all, except for the wanker with Florida plates who kept honking at us and trying to run us over on Avenue N. But try riding 20 miles and then having Bob feed you enough to keep all of Rome fat and happy, so much that it’s agony to breathe, and then ride those same 7.5 miles back to Atlantic & Flatbush. In the dark.

    It was a great day.

    October 11, 2005
  • Thanks, Maggie. Yeah, it was a pretty damn good day—good enough to blur the sensation of the odometer ticking over another notch.

    October 11, 2005
  • You know, I completely forgot about the Q train not running until I read it here. Since you guys arrived at the house I’ve idly wondered why you’d only take the train as far as Atlantic Avenue. I really should have been wearing Laura’s short bus socks.

    October 11, 2005
  • Aww, thank you. It was a delight to spend the day with you guys, and to cook for such an appreciative audience.

    October 11, 2005
  • Oh, man, bravos all around. Wish I coulda been there (for the cooking and eating part).

    Say what you will about the giant crab monsters, that’s a mighty cool cover there. “So, puny humans, now I show you how to make real bisque.”

    (And, my god, Laura’s just getting even lovelier and lovelier.)

    October 11, 2005
  • And here’s the route for those of us who rode the extra mile (or 15) for the Tour. Well worth it!!

    October 11, 2005
  • In the dark. And it was raining. And it was uphill.

    But still wonderful.

    October 11, 2005
  • Well, the rest of the guys seemed to enjoy the eating okay—I personally ate until I was ready to moult my shell like a giant, pink crab.

    They are a delightful bunch.

    October 11, 2005
  • Gah! It looks so much further in red.

    October 11, 2005
  • “Honey, does this color make my route look long?”

    October 11, 2005
  • Sounds like a fantastic time. You all look great- remarkably un-sweaty and awake. Bob, when did you have time to cook?

    October 11, 2005
  • That’s so sweet! Good friends you have there, sir. And a happy birthday to you.

    Chris

    October 11, 2005
  • Ha!
    “Does this route go with my padded lycra biking shorts?”
    “Honey, nothing goes with padded lycra biking shorts.”

    October 11, 2005
  • I was partially anesthetized with Valpolicella—I have no idea how the rest of them managed to be so bright-eyed. I made pasta; started the sauce early in the morning, before the Tour.

    October 11, 2005
  • Why thank you, sir. Yes, they’re inexplicably nice to me. I’m lucky in my friends.

    October 11, 2005
  • Bob’s being modest. I was tremendously impressed by his ability to keep a nine-quart pot full of bubbling marinara sauce balanced on the back of his bike.

    October 11, 2005
  • Oh, that was easy. Keeping the rigatoni from getting overdone, now that was a challenge.

    October 11, 2005
  • The Tour de Bob looks wonderful. Of course, next year you’ll have 150 participants, and the year after Lance Armstrong will show up.

    Are those the same camo pants you had when we were married? If so, they have to be getting old enough to vote.

    October 11, 2005
  • And then Armstrong will win the damn thing because he’s injected himself with mare’s sweat. As long as he brings Sheryl Crow, I don’t care.

    Those BDUs are old enough to drink in New York State. I know you could not possibly be objecting to my garmentage, because: A. Camouflage goes with everything; and B. I know somewhere in your extensive trousseau you have finery that was venerable when Cato was wearing short togas.

    October 11, 2005
  • Oh, har de har. Only some pairs of shoes. And a sweater. And this one skirt…

    And then all the vintage stuff.

    October 11, 2005
  • Boy, that stretch of Ocean Parkway seemed endless. Now I can see that it was.

    October 11, 2005
  • I was most impressed with the freshness of the duck, and the deftness with which Bob speared it in the Gerritsen Inlet.

    October 11, 2005
  • We work freelance, too, and we’re available for parties.

    October 11, 2005
  • 😎

    I’ll give you a call….

    October 11, 2005
  • Anonymous

    Gee, and all I got you was a lousy phone call. I guess I am the lesser of the three Bills.

    Bill the Lesser

    October 11, 2005
  • Tell me if this conversation is at all familiar:

    “Bill, do you have a bike?”
    “Oh God no!”

    I would be daunted by the prospect of running all the way to the Silver Gull and back. Now I know you’re made of sterner stuff than me, but still. You have eleven months and twenty-eight days to buy a bicycle. The clock, she ticks.

    October 11, 2005
  • Yes. You have pencils older than I am.

    October 11, 2005
  • Um, Bill, that was in Dead Horse Bay, and it wasn’t duck…

    October 11, 2005
  • <holding my sides>

    Bill the Mustachioed

    October 12, 2005
  • Oh my. There always has to be a neighsayer.

    October 12, 2005
  • Not to mention all the little old Jewish ladies throwing themselves under our wheels.

    October 12, 2005
  • That is, hooves down, the worst pun atrocity I’ve ever seen.

    October 13, 2005
  • Isn’t that the punchline to a very filthy joke about a rabbi, a priest, and a kiddie pool full of Astroglide?

    October 13, 2005
  • That was my mane goal.

    October 13, 2005
  • I think this Tour De Bob thing is awesome!
    I hope you do it every year and it gets so popular thousands of people do it and they show it on ESPN and even after you move away or don’t even participate people will still do it and say “Now why is this race called the Tour De Bob again?” (and of course, someone will know the answer regaling all your wonderful other ideas that were never actually put into practice)

    October 28, 2005
  • Hey, thanks! I don’t relish the thought of cooking for thousands of participants, I have to say. Not even to get on ESPN.

    November 09, 2005

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