Visited the Front Range Boxing gym. It had the all the right ingredients for the Wombury. It's set off the road, in a hard to reach location at the base of a dead end. The facility was empty and rough around the edges, looking more like a seaside shanty that a facility. I hate facilities. Inside there was one dude and one dude only, pounding the Heavy Bag, and it was the owner, Dave. I like an owner who's not afraid to use the product. Dave told me to wait while he finished his round, proving he's not a slave to customer service. On the wall were faded, yellowed newspaper clippings detailing Dave's boxing triumphs from back in the day. On the wall there were two quotations: "Timing Beats Speed" and "Accuracy Beats Power." Concise, encouraging, pithy. Sealing the deal was the music: Dylan's Blonde on Blonde was playing on the stereo, ("Stuck inside of Mobile") loud and clear as the azure summer sky in autumn. Good music, sweaty owner, rough outside, clean inside. Sold. Sunday, 1 pm, is my first lesson.
Until then,
The Traveling Wombury
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