FRIED RUMBLE FISH

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.

Studboy Nightrider was the first to feel the fury of the female skiers, and a solid sock to the jaw had him spitting tartar sauce all over the place.

Ouch! I didn’t even see this sweet, short, left hand coming. No Mas Little Lady! 

CD probably got the worst of it with a right hook that looked like it came from the dark side of the moon. “I drove all the way from Holland to get my ass kicked by a girl? And where’s my damn Fried Asian Carp?” I think he said, blood dripping from his lip.

Flying Bats got suckered punched good and proper by one of the leaders of the gang. While he didn’t seem to enjoy it too damn much, she seemed to think it was as delicious as a full basket of Deep Fried Asian Carp and a Guiness on the side. What a sweetheart!

The only one of our group to escape this savage attack was Mike V. His dashing good looks and suave manner made them spare him. Unfortunately the gang also abducted him and we may never see him alive again.

But oh well, we all shared the basket of Carp he left behind in the parking lot. That heater in the Grandpa Van Rocks!