So I'm at the Stanford Hammer field today, working out how the &#^%*(_#%^$&# I'm ever going to actually throw the 42 pound weight for distance, and a van full of girls from the UCSB track team goes by. Today was "The Big Meet"...meaning Cal vs. Stanford, so I'm not sure why the UCSB girls were there, but whatever.

I'm a UCSB alum, see? But they didn't know that. All they saw was me...bald, bearded, somewhat large, kilted, and muttering at this pile of steel with a handle on it that frankly, is kicking my assumptions.

The van passed by one way, and the girls catcalled and screamed "HOT!", and I laughed and waved. When it came back a few minutes later I'd just finished my compromise technique meaning how I'm probably going to throw this bluidy thing, because the "spin" just isn't happening... and heaved the 42 pounder, maybe 18 feet. The van came along at about 1/33rd speed, girls hooted and the

*very*

cute brunette that was driving I'm old enough to be her father screams out the window..."Call me!"

so I shout back..."I don't have your phone number."

to my complete amazement, the van comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the street and about a dozen very fit, very trim, very pretty UCSB track team girls come pouring out. I now have the telephone numbers for most of them...

Pity.

1. I'm twice their age, and then some...
2. I'm married
3. It's a 7 hour drive to Santa Barbara

But for a small fee, you young bucks, I'll share....*NOT*

Behold ye, the power of the kilt. flippin' incredible