Imagine a Friday afternoon. A young man is leaving his place of work on the last day of the work week. He is in a bit of a rush to get home because he is leaving an hour later than he would have liked. If he were honest, he would admit that he really wanted to put an end to the work day about eleven hours earlier – before the day really began. Anyway, he climbed onto the narrow saddle of his bicycle and peddled through the parking lot towards home. He had just crossed the highway out front (after waiting about five minutes for the traffic light) when he felt the need to “use the facilities.” As I said before, he was already leaving an hour late so he did not relish the thought of backtracking to the office to make use of it’s facilities. He therefore decided to make a go of holding it until he got home.

Herein lies his mistake.

Less than a mile into his ride the pressure began to become uncomfortable. Still, he pushed forward. Three miles into the ride he began to feel painful spasms. Five miles into the ride he felt every pedal stroke. Each time a foot would reach the top of the stroke his knee put a little pressure on his abdomen. Every pump at the pedals felt like a pump on his bladder. At seven miles he began to really regret his decision. The ride became a race with his bladder. There were no businesses on his route that had public restrooms. Living in a county that practically invented the term “urban sprawl”, there were no trees to hide behind and bleed off a little pressure. There were plenty of little landscaping trees, but he felt it might not be a good idea to take a leak in someone’s front yard. Undoubtedly there is a law written somewhere that addresses that kind of thing, and it would be really inconvenient if he were forbidden by law to live within 1000 feet of a school or daycare center. At eight miles he began to seriously think about knocking on someone’s door. At nine miles he wondered if anyone would accept a trade for the use of their bathroom, but he didn’t have any money on him. He would have offered them a kidney at this point, but he figured it would be of no use to anyone by now. Half a mile from his home, the only thing that kept him from relieving himself right where he sat was having to explain the smell to his wife when he got home, and the thought of having to clean up his bike afterwards. Finally he did make it home. He was extremely tired from the effort, but he did make it… barely.

The lesson in this is obvious. Always go with the leather or vinyl bicycle saddle… never go with the more absorbent cloth. Cloth = cramping, leather = choices.