intervention

Nothing is more difficult than to watch, from a position of seeming helplessness, as one's friends are caught up in the slow tortuous drift toward potential self-annihilation. But this is the heart-wrenching situation we have been confonted with over the past little while concerning Penner, our beloved President, who has exhibited increasing evidence of what can only be described as self-destructive tendencies. It always seems to begin with a sort of disengagement, seemingly innocent at first. By the time a pattern of social invisibility is recognized, it is often tragically far too late.

No words have been uttered more frequently over the past 3-4 months, whether at our weekly gatherings or club rides, than the anguished refrain, "where's Penner?" And so after much soul searching and heart-felt discernment we, the devoted members of the Fort Garry Bike Club, felt that we were faced with no other option than to take the difficult and decidedly risky step of staging an intervention. We have to get Penner out for a ride. And with some pleading and carefully staged manipulation, not to mention the overwhelming support of the entire FGBC family, I'm happy to report that there is reason to believe that we might have been successful in our mission to rescue our weak but cherished friend. Last night, we managed to get Penner out for a ride.

It also gives me great pleasure to report that in spite of everything that has transpired recently, Penner apparently remains, well, Penner. Though he continues to bear traces of the extraordinary burdens he has been forced to shoulder, it appears that these have not been powerful enough to completely destroy the collection of habits and idiosyncrasies that make Penner Penner. His balance issues are clearly still there. And his uncanny knack for finding himself in trouble remains as doggedly persistent as ever. On this particular occasion, Penner's difficulties manifested themselves in what turned out to be a toothless cog. It began innocently enough, as it always does (some will recall an inocuous looking twig at Ingolf a few years back). Deep in the heart of the Ass. Forest, odd noises began to intrude into the placid winter night.



Initial investigations (pictured above) were not able to detect the severity of the problem. And thankfully we were able to ride on for a time. But before long, Penner's chain became increasingly recalcitrant and simply would not stay in place. Happily, however, by the time the old, but newly ss'd Peugot became completely inoperative, we were but a few steps away from the cozy confines known as the F&H. Jonny G and Jonny N were gracious enough to abort their ride and accompany Penner to the clubhouse, while the secretary and myself, good soldiers that we are, carried on to retreive the rescue vehicle. By the time we returned, karaoke night was not yet in its final throes, but we were nevertheless able to enjoy a pint of our official beverage, while undertaking a final session of debriefing with our dear brother. Though Penner is not yet out of the woods, we remain cautiously confident that a more serious crisis has been averted.

OTT: Dylan, Trying to Get to Heaven