formal Raleigh

I was never one to plan my "dream wedding" as a girl, but now it's so clear. I'll sit my dad on the handlebars (or maybe install BMX pegs on the rear wheel; after all, it is a special occasion) and cruise down the aisle, trailed by flowergirls on trikes with baskets full of rose petals.

My beloved and I will do perfect trackstands in front of the minister as he reads our vows.

"Do you, Ms. Pr0n, promise to lay out your cycling outfit the night before and slip out the door quietly so that Mr. Pr0n can grab a few more hours of sleep when you leave on an early weekend ride?"

I do.

"Do you, Mr. Pr0n, promise to trust your wife's excellent sense of direction and never suggest a shortcut that will get you both lost, require carrying your bikes through a cowpasture and add ten miles to the ride, for as long as you both shall live?"

I do.

"Do you both promise to never, ever, ever, use your life partner's favorite tee-shirt to wipe extra grease off the chain of your bike?"

We do.

"I now pronounce you hopeless geeks. You may kiss the bride!"

Then the guests will look under their seats to find the first clue in an alleycat race that ends at the reception hall. The bride and groom, of course, will get a head start.