We all want to be a member of the club at one time or another.

It might be a casual cycling club; or a bicycle touring group; or even a racing team.

I used to go on Saturday morning rides with a casual cycling club; but finally had to stop. Our meet-up spot was five or six miles from home; and our rides started at 10 am. That didn\’t give me much time to go grocery shopping; get the load home; and then ride over to meet the gang.

Then, after the group ride, I\’d be heading home in the hottest part of the day. After I began going to the salvage store, making it to these rides was impossible. It was either go grocery shopping, or do the club rides; and I had to opt for getting my food.

You could say that I\’m a member of the century club. If I may say so, I earned it when I put in a 100-miler on an adult tricycle. Will I ever get up the gumption to train up for another century?

I also aspire to be a member of the club in another way: tightwaddery. I must admit that I\’m not doing very well at it! At the rate I\’m going, I\’ll never earn my membership card.

So far I haven\’t managed to kick my expensive Diet Coke habit. That\’s bad for my wallet; and worse for my teeth. It probably isn\’t doing my innards any good, either.

Lately I suspect that I spend a lot more on groceries than I thought. Since the pandemic began, I\’ve been bringing home bigger loads from the salvage store: \”just in case\”. Even at the salvage store, that adds up.

A member of the club? Not yet.