After bickering about almost everything (S’quatch’s driving, the way to load the truck, what to have for breakfast, where to stay, when to ride, and whether Lindsay Lohan is a better singer than Ashlee Simpson) we actually made it to Alachua county and rode San Felasco, followed by a three hour flogging at Razorback the next day.
It didn’t feel so good. Pa Ingalls coined the phrase, “riding with the parking brake on” and that sums it up nicely. On the other hand, I felt good on the steep drops and dicey traverses around the Razorback quarry, but that ain’t going to help none during the SF 50. The way it stands is, I’m not ready and I don’t care. 50 miles is far enough that I will have time to get in shape during the ride. No matter what happens I will slink off to the Bahamas for 5 days of rum therapy immediately after the event, so the hell with it right?
Congratulations are in order for the BRC’s favorite pole-barn building frontier couple. They’re a gonna tie the knot. After 5 years of common law union and Apache fighting they are ready to secure their bond in ink. He whittled her a ring out of a palmetto stalk too, which was sweet.
I hope you had a good New Year’s Eve, with opportunity to both revel and reflect. If you want you can tell me your resolutions, thereby committing them to a public venue and a heckling horde, which may or may not be helpful.
We made a big time of it around the bigtop, with friends joining us from Bosnia, and Tampa, along with the regular tiny car full of clowns. In fact, there was so much action around here I am glad to be back at work, (not that this is working).
My resolution of the moment is to confront vigorously people who use the word “should” in reference to anyone but themselves.
you have been warned,