Nick— The custard, the pudding, the donuts, the tofu. I could taste the exercise on my tongue. 29inch wheels underfoot, I knew that ripped quads look good with man breasts, and I set out on a three hour tour of the local creameries and tofu fry shops, past rice paddies and dairy farms. For every tractor there’s a mom-and-pop cottage, and I like looking at the udder of the cow that gets the tug to get the churn to get the scoop. Green-tea ice cream tastes damn fine after a big hill, and nothing screams “I aint here to buy” like thumbing cheese samples in bike spandex.
Niseko mountain biking: a fat-tire tour of local snacks
June 26, 2009 by Sweetgrass Productions
Nick— The custard, the pudding, the donuts, the tofu. I could taste the exercise on my tongue. 29inch wheels underfoot, I knew that ripped quads look good with man breasts, and I set out on a three hour tour of the local creameries and tofu fry shops, past rice paddies and dairy farms. For every tractor there’s a mom-and-pop cottage, and I like looking at the udder of the cow that gets the tug to get the churn to get the scoop. Green-tea ice cream tastes damn fine after a big hill, and nothing screams “I aint here to buy” like thumbing cheese samples in bike spandex.
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