It's obvious to me that the ancient MTB gods have gathered together to taunt me mercilessly.
Why yes! I can see them now posing just as they appear in their constellation in the Western Hemisphere!
There's Toppus Tubius; He’s always trying to bust my balls.
And of course, his inconsiderate brother, Downus Tubius, who always seems to leave my water bottle covered in whatever disagreeable filth I happen to be riding through that day.
Behind him is the lovely Seatstaythia, bless her heart, who never fails to support my ass.
Of course that's the rather shifty Gripshiftocles over there speaking with Knobbus Tyrus, who really digs the dirt, and the unconventional Coggus Biopacius, who speaks of my somewhat erratic cycling patterns.
Hiding in the background there are Spokius, Crankus Armelius, and Droppernicus Postocles, all of whom have important jobs, yet they all laugh at me and conspire to prevent me from laying hands upon the object of my unabashed ardor.
Oh, Great Shimano's ghost, why must they torment me? For the love of Tangus Chromolius and all things XT, someone please help me before I lose touch with reality........
...........er.................so soon since my recent break with reality.......
...........ah................not that I ever had much of a keen grip on reality.....................
................................Reality? Bah! Over-rated.
Hmmmm, he pondered craftily while rubbing his hands together in a sinister fashion. Maybe if I simply increased my offer to the seller.............<insane laughter follows>