Gaze upon the glory of the Gillette M3 Power!

Well, gaze upon the fuzziness of a picture from my cell phone.

Really, the best part of getting the razor was having the cute pharmacist say hello to me. It’s like when I was in high school and I’d ride my bike to North Portland to go by this girl’s house who went to my high school. She had some junk in the trunk, especially for a high school girl, but it was a pleasant diversion. I never did see her when I rode by, but it did give me somewhere to go on my new Univega 10-speed. Somehow I’d keep going and make it all the way to Vancouver, Washington. After all these years, I’m not sure how I got from St. Johns to Jantzen Beach, but I do remember a lot of dead possums roadkill on the way.

Yep. That describes my high school romance (as it were), riding my bike hoping to see a girl but really only seeing a bunch of rotting marsupials. Oh, once there was a time that I met a cheerleader from Lincoln High School and kept her from riding the wrong way on the freeway (it was tricky following the bike lanes onto the Interstate bridge and she almost made it into oncoming traffic on I-5) but I was too stupid to do much about that. Other than make sure she didn’t ride into oncoming cars. So there’s the other part of high school romance. Utter obliviousness.