This is Fort James. He is a good friend of mine. Two weeks ago he rode with me to the Hagerstown race, and he ate half a yogurt. For about a week in a half, I have had this funky ass smell in my car. For the life of me I have not been able to shake it. I though it was because I left my shoes in the car, or maybe I left a smelly jersey under the seat, but no avail. Friday afternoon, as Kerry, Wes and I made our way to work at Granogue, Kerry asks, "hey Marc do you always store yogurt in your back door?" I immediately knew what the funky smell in my car was for the past week and a half. Fort James' yogurt. If you thought it smelled bad, you should have seen how it looked.