Fifty Frickin' Pounds?

Just weighed the bag of tools that I organized today. It's fifty pounds on our oh-so-precise bathroom scale.

If my camera hadn't just decided to puke on its memory card, I'd post a photo of all the tools laid out to be counted. Maybe later if I can give it some pepto bismol or something.

So I hope I don't have to use any of those tools, except for the 16mm needed for the oil drain that I plan to use in Whitehorse and Anchorage. If anything else gets used, let's hope it's to help a stranded rider or an ambitious Morris Minor.

Cleaned out the door pockets. Urgh. Such grossness. Stale sunflower seeds, ancient fuel receipts and a bag of gooey substance that probably should be put into a biohazard bag.