I bought a mountain bike today. It was an act of impulse, but a good impulse. My history has dictated that my brand of impulse can be hazardous to the health of those around me, myself, and the dancers at local topless establishments. Impulse meant that I would have yet another crazy story to tell, four apologies to make, and one more credit limit increase request. Apparently, one night while I was sleeping, the gnomes who read the meters on my liver and my lungs made a startling discovery. I was not running as efficiently as those in my age bracket, so they chose to call in the union of gnomes who could rewire everything from my brain to my bowels, including my alcoholic converter.

Once these gnomes were done, I would have a new outlook, and I wouldn't smell nearly as bad, and they would have a new Shane to come to, so in case the journey back to their homeland was too far, they could crash in my insides and not marinate in booze and asphyxiate on cigarette smoke.

These gnomes executed their plan, and they succeeded. Their big dig project happened seemingly overnight, and I woke up reformed, refreshed, and with a new attitude. As of this writing, it has been two months, two weeks, six days, 16 hours, 8 minutes and 12 seconds since I smoked my last cigarette.

How do I feel? It has never felt this good to hate this much. In my eyes, there is not enough pain in this world, and it's my job to inflict it. I have nothing but extreme contempt for everything, and boundless passion for nothing, other than the death of everything that is sacred. It feels good reading that last sentence, because it seems that I've developed a bit more of a positive attitude than the one I had in the first month.

Things are starting to change inside of me, the garden that is my functioning body parts is starting to sprout branches and leaves out of the wasteland it once was, and it craves activity, like running or biking. Thinking in my typical lazy smoker mentality, I figured that at least if I got a bike, then I would get exercise and be sitting down. Not bad. I will feel better about myself, and have the opportunity to run over gnomes who are out there trying to improve humanity. Their corpses will rot on the ground fertilizing the growth of new tobacco crops to flourish and further taunt me.

During this incessant rage, there are fleeting moments of Buddhist like reminders that flash in front of my eyes, in which I feel peace. I have been told that over time, these reminders hang around longer, which is encouraging. As you can probably imagine, it's difficult to function in today's world with a Zen like outlook, only to have an urge to decimate everything in my path just seconds later. I'm a walking contradiction with a chip on my shoulder and no stains on my fingers, but at least the stink on me was free.

I am excited to hit the town on my flashy new bike, and become a fixture on all the trails around town. It's going to be a liberating experience, and experience I look forward to, just as soon as I get my training wheels off. Light 'em up kids, I'm in for a ride.