To paraphrase Groucho, outside of a dog, a bicycle is man’s best friend; inside of a dog, it’s too dark to cycle. On the long, slow climb (of course there’s a head wind!) to the town of Boquete in western Panama, I no longer feel as though my bicycle is my best friend. In point of fact, I hate this bike. Specifically, the seat, which I feel is not, er … appropriately distributing the load, as it were.