Since Rivendell hasn't already snagged the name, the Elephant fat bike should (obviously) be called the Oliphaunt.
Though we men of Gondor would prefer "mûmak."
And Pat? One does not simply ride onto Glen's lawn. His black door is guarded by more than just small dogs. Not with ten thousand Pugsleys could you do this.
Ghoulwe1, I just want him to take the intermediate step of buying a cheap one with any old (surly) logo on it. But if he *were* to build on, well . . . now we're talking.
Boredamir, I would welcome the opportunity to beta test a prototype Oliphaunt in the jungles of Far Harad and provide my humble feedback to Elephant Bicycles Corporation. Assuming that I ever actually re-emerged. Of course.
And let me just come clean here and add that without the assistance of google, I would have had absolutely no clue about how to respond to your comment. We live in good times.
And it's not so much the dogs I worry about at Glen's, as that freaky band of cats. I am relatively certain though, that I am once again out of my element and know not that of which I speak.
4 comments:
Or two.
Fatbikes are just screaming for an Elephant logo!
Since Rivendell hasn't already snagged the name, the Elephant fat bike should (obviously) be called the Oliphaunt.
Though we men of Gondor would prefer "mûmak."
And Pat? One does not simply ride onto Glen's lawn. His black door is guarded by more than just small dogs. Not with ten thousand Pugsleys could you do this.
It is folly.
John, of course.
Ghoulwe1, I just want him to take the intermediate step of buying a cheap one with any old (surly) logo on it. But if he *were* to build on, well . . . now we're talking.
Boredamir,
I would welcome the opportunity to beta test a prototype Oliphaunt in the jungles of Far Harad and provide my humble feedback to Elephant Bicycles Corporation. Assuming that I ever actually re-emerged. Of course.
And let me just come clean here and add that without the assistance of google, I would have had absolutely no clue about how to respond to your comment. We live in good times.
And it's not so much the dogs I worry about at Glen's, as that freaky band of cats. I am relatively certain though, that I am once again out of my element and know not that of which I speak.
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