While temperatures warmed considerably, icy conditions prevailed once again making riding dangerous-to-suicidal, especially for someone of my brittle and advanced years. As a consolation, we (Bats, Simple, Redline, Mike V, CD, Studboy, and myself) all decided to head back early and some of us went on to the Honey Creek for a few beers and some Delicious Baskets of Deep Fried Asian Carp. Yum-mee.
While the American Bar Association has erroneously declared (IMHO) that being old and riding a mountain bike is begging for a beating, we soon found that riding any kind of two-wheeled vehicle is like wearing a PUNCH ME sign around your neck.
We took our usual table and ordered a round of Delicious Fried Asian Carp and beers. Before we could take a sip or crunch a fried fin we were suddenly accosted by a gang, (not a club), of female Cross Country Skiers bent on doing us bodily harm. These "ladies" demanded our table, telling us we were just "stupid bicyclists" and didn’t deserve to live, much less have a six top to ourselves. When we didn't move fast enough the fists began to fly.
But oh well, we all shared the basket of Carp he left behind in the parking lot. That heater in the Grandpa Van Rocks!