Rick and I landed in KeriKeri, New Zealand a week ago to ride the Tour Aotearoa (TA), which spans the whole of NZ’s two islands, north to south. Rick’s kiwi friend Ian is joining for the entirety, and Ian’s friend Louise, a KeriKeri local (practically the mayor), planned to ride with us the first few days. We were all going to take a shuttle up to the tippy top of the north island, except… Rick’s bike was lost in baggage, somewhere in Aukland. After three days of Ian intimidating airport staff, a godawful number of phone calls, false promises that the bike would be on the next flight to KeriKeri… An airport lady tells us we’ll be receiving a call. Soon after, she scuttles past us and right out the front door of KeriKeri airport, noticeably avoiding eye contact with Ian, and accompanied by a security guard (lmao). The phone rings. We learn that Rick’s very expensive bicycle, his baby, has been “run over.” And indeed, when the bike remains finally arrived in KeriKeri, the owner of the local bike shop for miles (err…kilometers), in writing up a damage report, declared the bicycle to be a “total loss.” Emotions were had. Stages of grief were traversed. Many logistics were logisticked. Rick has a new bike coming. (Maybe up and running by Sunday??) He likened it to getting a puppy after your old beloved dog dies. In the meantime, screw the TA. We’re stuck in KeriKeri, and we’ve rebranded to “Beer and Burger Tour.” Cycling sometimes breaks out on the BABT (Rick on a loaner), not unlike how hockey sometimes breaks out during Canadian boxing matches. (Pics are from the first week of the BABT. The present ride is just some cycling that broke out today…weird)