The Rim Race Nationals went down like an atomic bomb last night, and I am still recovering from the absolute mayhem that ensues when you voluntarily remove the rubber from your velocipede...I have more cuts and bruises than Lindsay Lohan on a coke bender, and still have a b.a.c of at least .20%. And to think I was winning the criterium stage of the race when my rear rim cracked in half and taco-ed under the weight of my PBR-filled belly. Joel was cheating as usual and used his BMX bike and its 3" wheels to stay afloat on the pave'; only the Gawds above could be more corrupt in their envy...
Jevon fondles the infamous Boner Ghost podium slayer...
Forgot I had an old Rocco's Pizza sticker from my days in PDX...
Perfection achieved...
And then I rode home with my muddy, bloody, broken iron horse strapped to the trusted Kona Ute cargo bike....the wind and rain had ceased and the streets opened their arms to the victor.
Long live the Princess...
No comments:
Post a Comment