Evil Cycling

Which is fortunate because after this year’s running of the SSCXWC, I maybe have about five to spare.

So as you might can guess, a partial (and mulleted) cloud of evil descended on the City By The Bay and not a drop of alcohol, or brain cell was spared. It’s probably a good thing that this event doesn’t happen more than once a year, because there’s no way my body could take it.

Mud and blood and one hour of pure, unadulterated suffering was what this year’s race offered up, and we drank every last bit that we could physically afford. Plus whatever happened to come out of Loudass’ mouth.

Photo by Skotty Pawz.

I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was supposed to be in Philadelphia. But, as soon as I landed in MPLS for my layover, and upon finding out my flight to Philly was canceled due to a freak blizzard, I immediately went to work. I started by calling around, and strangely, no one was picking up. Although, if they saw my name on the caller ID, I don’t blame them for not picking up. But the erstwhile Bear picked up his phone, and offered a ride and his couch until my next morning flight to Philly. Then he informed me it was the Homie Fall Fest, that’s probably why no one was answering their phones. True that.

Bear scooped me up, we went to the beer store, and we set about catching up on the porch on a brisk October afternoon.

Then the lovely JRo and the Rabbit Costumed Brose picked me up and, on one of Bear’s almost-fits-me bikes, made our way to the Minnehaha trail to catch up with the homie. This was easy. Find the smoke, follow the smoke, and see shit like this:

There were hot laps, and I mean that – a huge bonfire got larger and larger as the night went on. Lots of beers met their deaths. A bottle of Wild Turkey in my bag slowly died as well. I hadn’t come rightly prepared, with my shiny work shoes and stupid pants, but hey, I wasn’t supposed to be here. Chewey was there, Sov, Geneo, and a host of other faces I hadn’t seen for a while, so that was nice. Bikes went in circles, over fires, into each other, and in every possible direction. It was a downright hootenanny. Until apparently some asshats made off with a couple of backpacks, and that just isn’t cool.

Before I knew it I was hammered, and no better place to go than the Sunrise! An open fryer pit with beers on tap, basically. They sold us “cheeseburgers” and “fries” in “baskets”. Moffit just looked around for food to pilfer.

This is the shittiest report with the shittiest phone photos ever, but hey, I wasn’t even supposed to be there.

Bear dropped me off at the airport the next morning and I continued eastward to the city of brotherly love. Yes, I had some cheez whiz.