I had been toying with the idea of partaking in a grand purchasing scheme to acquire a long coveted mountain bike. I wanted to be able to accompany my children on long trail rides.... at least that is what I hoped. You know, make them pump and pump at the grueling pedals until they not only sweat bullets, but their feet give out.
Cut to the chase.... soon after torturing my kids on my previous trek on Missouri's Katy Trail, I decided my bike needed a name; but lets back up a bit. As my brain was being consumed by evil thoughts, the word Elvis suddenly was stuck upon my neurons....presto : ELVIS!
Anyway, if you happen to gaze upon a father hoisted atop a mountain bike with the most god awful paint job that some would categorize as despicable art,then you might be in for either a treat or disaster. Here is this piece of precious equipment for my legs to rotate on so I can make myself stronger as in Zuess like proportions, while the Greek godess Nike hands to me a few points for reaching myself into the land of cross-training!