Tomorrow is a good day to die

That’s what I would be thinking if I had to saddle up for the 12 hours of Razorback tomorrow. To your left is a picture of riders relaxing at the finish line at the end of the race last year. As you can see, they are very tired.

I have been waylaid by a bug, and hope to make it down to the race tonight or early tomorrow, when I will faithfully provide an accurate and entirely journalistic account of the proceedings. Either that, or I will rip around on Pa Ingall’s burly golf cart drinking beer and barking orders at race officials and riders alike. We will just have to wait and see what happens.

Ma & Pa Ingalls haven’t slowed down a bit. Word on the trail is that Man-gri-la now has “Bard Owl Pines” or something like that, a rough and rugged homemade golf course big enough to need the lumber. I’m bringing enough cash to get a skins game going. Do they use cash in Reddick?

Another compelling reason to make the event, healthy or not, is the opportunity to graze the buffet catered by the The Mad Housewife of Olive You Eat Well Catering in Gainesville, FL (Google all that and you might learn something!) That woman can flat throw down in the kitchen, or anywhere else for that matter.

Whatever happens, we all need to be rooting for J.B, Joey, Pete, and Danny, and it goes without saying, those are not their real names.

You might also be interested to know that S’quatch is down with the flu bug, and I mean the real one. Reports of a 103 fever came in this morning, and as you know, that is extremely dangerous for omnivorous humanoids. For you S’quatch, I offer the silver lining, think of all the calories you burn while you’re lying there sweating in misery. you will be back leaner and meaner than ever. If you pull through.

Have a great weekend everybody, and do something that you like to do. If anyone gives you a hard time, send them to El Juancho, and I’ll settle their hash.


3 Responses to Tomorrow is a good day to die

  1. Sickness all around me! Sasquatch, Juancho, Mrs. H. Just last week I helped send a former coworker to the Great Beyond, but that was the Big C rather than the dreaded influenza. It all puts my mere herniated disc into perspective. Chronic, but unlike the bug, no fever and I can still breathe.

    Visited mom last weekend in Jax, and took the bait on an ’05 Fuji Roubaix. I dreaded stiffing the local guys, and have no excuse: price was my god. It’s fire engine red, about the same color as Juancho’s Barbie Truck. If the road riding is truly an old-guy thing, per the comment a few days ago, this is the Ferrari of my midlife crisis.

    Now it looks like I’m alone again, naturally, for a weekend of trail/road riding in Tally. Maybe Sasquatch’s iron constitution will rally him for a few miles by Sunday.