After much deliberation, the wise folks at coffee this morning rendered the following verdict:
Fender season is truly upon us.
If you find yourself winning sprints way too easily these days, it *might* be your fancy new gym workout regimen, OR it may just be because no one wants to chase your muddy rooster tail.
And for those with fenders that don't reach quite far enough down, I hear there are some slick-looking crap flaps for sale.
Ciao! Martin
p.s. And if my fenders are inadequate, I'll be embarrassed, but best just to tell me!
