Yeah, somebody's up the road. I can tell by all the dust they're kicking up on the horizon. Nice attack you idiots put in while the rest of us were drinking and eating bananas at that stop sign where the horse trailer almost hit you as you crossed the road. Nice move jerk faces. So who's chasing them down? Not me. Screw that. This is a recovery night. It's always a recovery night when I've got to do some hard work. Besides I think we should turn right here. See you guys up the road. You suck. Okay there's a ride on for tonight with some of the stars of the Holland Bastard Gang joining us. What people (people meaning me) like about these guys best is that they drink better beer, and bring there own, which you can't always say about the Bastards around here. Let's face it, we drink shitty beer and are a bunch of spongers. But that's what I love about you guys. Really.
Kick off, roll-out, start-time, let's fucking get going 54321, will be around 6, but if you're late we'll wait for a reasonable amount of time. What reasonable is I can't tell you. But if you get there and we're gone you were unreasonably late.
Don't expect me be killing it tonight as my legs are pretty tired after another dissapointing effort at Grattan last night. While I should be resting in my altitude tent for recovery, I think it is important to start riding the cross bike and getting used to the bite of some dirt because before long that gravel is going to turn into this ...
If you can't see it, that crap is gooey black mud and it sucked the heart and soul out of me last year. Yeah it really hurt. I'm the guy with the red kit on. This photo was taken just a moment before I popped like a kid's balloon. If you don't want this to happen to you maybe you should hose the crap off your crosser and get your ass out here.
