An Ode to the Rolled: a treatise in defense of the QT taquito.

   

     In the library of ironies that is our modern world, one in particular strikes a hyper-acute angle near my heart: that, in order to ride one's mt. bike off-road - which is by definition the fucking over-arching point of said device - 99% of the time a car must be the primary transport to arrive at the trailhead. Now, I hear the litany of detractors lining up in their angry queue and of course, if you live within a few miles of some tasty single-track, you can leave the internal combustion coffin at home, and if you are a pro, nutfucking maniac like Yams, you can ride *100 miles to the dirt, spin off 100 more miles and then pet some goats and eat *89 lbs. of steamed carrots, THEN ride *34 miles home and punch David HasselShoff in his swollen giner; but I digress...
     I am a product of all the things I hate about the suburbs, and I will, for the sake of stabbing myself in the neck, not make a list here for all to see, however, let it be said that packing my bike/gear into a car and driving 10-20 miles or so 2-3 times a week is relatively low in that index of indiscretions. As a life-long bike commuter I can justify, to some extent, putting on the miles to and from the trails - especially if those miles are to Colorado or Arkansas. There is also the blatant factor of time and its consumption: as a 'married with child' member of society, there are only so many hours available with which to escape to the Church in the Woods, the cathartic release of endorphins and blood that is the very essence of mt. biking. So, therein lies the rotted root of our current dilemma  and contentious topic on the table of tete a' tete today: duration, and its ugly antecedent, hunger. Let me be morer clearerer: road food/coffee is a painful, but necessary evil in the race that is the travel time to the trails.
     And, in true Boner Ghost fashion, we have, after myriad pointless words and phrases, come to the crux of this dastardly diatribe: Quick and Tasty Corporation , aka Quik Trip. As a dyed-in-the-cotton Socialist, I realize fully that Capitalism at its core is organized crime and that our special blend of corruption here in the US is especially vulgar, but if I was El Presidente I would immediately upon taking office mandate that all other variances/miscellany of non-QT stores be shuttered and demolished. The Red, White and Black of QT would replace all Patriotic bullshit-propaganda so as to insure that all 50 states, not just the Central region, would be graced by the glory that is the fastest of all  fast-food/gas combinations. All portions and strata of our great nation would have the Devil-given opportunity to imbibe decent coffee and even less decent cylindrical pockets of mystery meat and infrared-heated pizza slices, all the while being able to satiate every one of their 11 children with *56 flavors of slushies. Of course, who can forget the rack of breakfast burritos and sandwiches, that, in a pinch, rival any hipster, slow-food, locavore haute cuisine. Now, let it be said that, if given my druthers, I would easily be swayed into eating "real food" and getting a double espresso at The Filling Station, Second Best Coffee or Oddly Correct, but let us be reminded of the paradox that is hours on the bike versus proper nutrition - the latter always takes the loss. Today's QT experience on the way out to the Blue River trails was predictable as usual: fast, friendly service, passable libations/comestibles and cheap diesel for my Global Warming machine; par for the course that is the race towards entitled entropy and fat pants for all -glory be to the Q and T.

Now for the normal fare of bikes, beer and moobs...

An embarrassment of ditches.

     Yes indeed, it has been more than fortnight, more than an antentwig, even longer than a nightmare that centers around Tonald Drump being ahead in the polls; no, dear reader, I have not abnegated the Cuntwat Throne in order to save the Queendom; nor have I changed my heavenly habits in any way, shape or formality: bikes, beer and bathing in the light that is the refection of all things 8Lumens...and my beautiful Oddity Cycles Twerker 29+.

Even though we here in the KC metroplex are anywhere between 10-15 inches above the average yearly rainfall, the single-track has been epic, if not Hero, and the amount of greenery/jungle is unrivaled since I began riding here in '98. The springs are still flowing with a vengeance, but at least the long-range forecast shows a 7 day stretch with no rain, for nothing is more cleansing for the soul than a wrestling match with the rocks on the Highline at BuRP.

And, since we are on the topic of forcible copulation, let us spend a few minutes on a similar experience that took place 10 or so days ago here in KC at Swope Park: yes, Single Speed Kansas City went off like a dirty bomb in a suitcase carried by a Richard Simmons impersonator in a two-sizes-too-small Jaegermeister thong.

Much has been said and written concerning the aforementioned event, and how it might have been the penultimate off-road cycling party to ever take place in our kickdick burg...and indeed it was: 3 days of murder, mayhem and Death Sauce challenges (which I lost in an epic, non- sexy fashion ) not to mention some of the best single-track in the Midwest. Chasm, El Blanco and the rest of the 8Lumens crew blew the minds of all the participants, eclipsed only by the fact the most of the entrants were mindless, fetid zombies riding bikeys that consisted of one gear. A celebration of tri-sexuality like no other...

...the below pictures are of me, the Princess Boner Ghost challenging a Texan, Wil Bloodworth - who is not of this earth - to a Grinders Death Wing eating contest ( 600,000 Scoville Units -look it up). It did not go well for yours liarly, and I failed with noble aplomb, worthy of a gold medal for fish-lipping a floppy carrot...

More bikes, even morer beer.

   

    On occasion, I will find myself perusing previous posts from this here Pulitwerp-winning blog, and I'm afraid to report, dear readers, that a paradigm rather lacking in sophistication becomes manifestly evident: drink barley-pop, ride, ride, ride and drink more ale than is legal in *34 states. With this proto-confession now out in the open, I shall in no way, shape or form deviate from the predestined path that has been paved by my genetic predisposition; there is no good reason to deny oneself the two, or maybe three things that bring exultation to the fore: breaking piano benches at The Bier Station with a boner-stem 1988 Diamondback mt. bike...

Now that the latest series of deluges have been sopped-up by the 95 degree blast furnace here in the Midwest, we can finally get back to riding single-track, which has mostly been out at Wyandotte County Lake, conveniently  nestled in the deep forests overlooking the Missouri River, and due to the prevailing winds, dries out faster than Trump's hair in a 1982 microwave. There is nothing at all technical about these trails, save for a stray, mildly rocky section, but where they lack in difficulty they make up with ultra-fast flow and steepness that can send a rider at 25mph+ through a tunnel of arboreal goodness that leaves one with watering eyes and shaking arms. But, that, as we all know as mt. bikers, is the key ingredient to bliss on two knobby tires: 2 inches from death at any given moment; a veritable metaphysical battle with the elements; a war of attrition that begins and ends with one's ability to overcome terror and trepidation. 

And now, since I am completely sober for at least the next 2 hours, the remaining photos concerning the last 10 days of festivities will have to exist on their own pathetic merit...

And, two new breweries are officially open to the public (taprooms) as of this last weekend here in Kansas City, Torn Label and 2nd Shift, both in the Crossroads Arts District. (though 2nd Shift had to postpone their shindig 'til this coming weekend) 

...took a little family vacation to St. Louis and the City Museum, as well as Alpha Brewery and 4 Hands Brewing, then south to the Johnson Shut-Ins (pictured above) and Elephant Rocks and Taum Sauk Mountain. 

Used my Oddity Cycles Slingtwat profusely on July 4th, shooting spent smoke-bombs at all the kids.