200 mile ass

while in seattle this summer i met a guy named Lincoln who wore cowboy boots with his workout pants. we happened to be eating at the same grocery store salad bar and then sat near each other at the two tables in the sun, shaded by umbrellas.

he initiated conversation. asking me many questions. it wasn't awkward or weird; i just had to remember not to talk with my mouth full.
when he asked where i was from i said eugene.
he said, whoah, that's a drive. not too bad i replied. just about 5 hours...if traffic cooperates.
he smiled, put his head down and didn't look back up until his salad was gone.
he then proclaimed "i have a 200 mile ass"

i just stared....

"my ass doesn't like to drive or ride or do anything past 200 miles"

interesting...

i said, "gee, i have never thought about what kind of mileage my ass gets...."

eventually he and his 200 mile tushy left but i think about his remark from time to time...especially at the end of a work week...when i have spent nearly 40 hours...on my ass!