Yeah, I know. It's a jungle out there, especially if you're
a roadie like me and spend endless hours mixing it up with PIBs [People In Boxes], not to mention POBs and COBs [People On Bikes and Cyclists On Bikes respectively, never mind the challenges posed by
the immortal class].
Not such a terribly long time ago in an
armchair far away I sat down and wrote the following as part of an improbable
questionnaire: 
At the risk of sounding unpardonably smug, put me down as a
'Z'. Now, I wasn't always a 'Z'. It took a few years to work my way through the alphabet. I'm not saying you have to follow me there if you haven't already arrived or don't even care to; my request is that if you get off your bicycle and go online after a less than pleasant encounter with
Tinnus boxii or
Homo cyclicus deficiens you don't scald acf with the steam coming out of your ears. No matter how we're travelling from A to B, we're all PFS [People Full Stop].
