If you listened to the weather guys on the news, you'd think that a mass purchase of bread, milk, batteries and shotgun shells was in order to ride out TS Ernesto. Granted, we don't live at the beach, but it really didn't do diddly here today. Hell, we rode 45 miles tonight and had a monster tailwind on the way home. Nothing says lovin' like a 28+ mph paceline and not having to kill yourself to do it.
This is the first time something named Ernesto has come from Cuba and not been floating on a homemade raft...
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