Point Of Ordure

[When super-sticky rubber soles with tread patterns engineered for maximum flat pedal grip don’t pass the smell test]

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Right foot. Right in it.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Wearing Giro Latch shoes with the stickiest soles. With perfectly shaped knobs for capturing pedal pins. And poop.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Before I noticed, I had mushed it into the little machined grooves of the Pembree pedals I’ve been riding.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

I couldn’t hose it off my shoes or pedals. I had to use an old toothbrush.

After hosing, and then some more hosing, and then hosing some more this is where I was at. Toothbrush time.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Standing on the side of the trail spotting my kid on a steep uphill ladder.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

It had the consistency and tenacity of the last scoop of peanut butter at the bottom of the jar.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Nina could make out the magnificent malodor from twenty meters away. Claire turned green.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Everyone was nice enough to hide their mirth, as I attempted to pick it out of my shoe and pedal with a stick.

The machining on these Pembree D2A pedals is lovely, until you’re trying to clean tenacious turd out them with a toothbrush.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

But on the bright side, my kid didn’t crash into it.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Most likely because it was “off the trail” so “what’s the big deal?”

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

Any claims that the owner, or walker, missed it certainly wouldn’t pass the smell test.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

I stepped in the rankest dog shit today.

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