There’s less than a week to go and I’m lost. I tried turning to Beautiful Wife for help.

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“I have no idea what to buy you for Christmas,” I wailed. “You don’t read the books I’ve bought you. Wine makes your cheeks flush, so you barely touch it. Clothes? Please. Jewelry? Ditto.”

BW looked at me calmly.

“Well, I have eight things for you to put under the tree.”

I guess that was her version of helping.

Me, on the other hand. Easy.

The stuff to keep me and my bike going. Shorts – the cycling kind you don’t want to wear into a store or restaurant. The padding is in all kinds of suggestive places. Tires. I only use one kind, the kind that roll fast, to make up for my aging body. Parts, as needed, particularly when you crash the bike, concuss your brain and end up spending a week screaming at the intermittent back spasms.

And books.

My mother vows this actually happened.

“You were being a little… [you can fill in the blank] …one day and I threw a book at you. You picked it up and started reading. You never stopped.”

Among the........

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