I have exactly 666 followers on Twitter. Check it out! @joev3 Not just 665 or 667, exactly 666. (cue the Twilight Zone music now which sounds like do do do do, do do do do, do do do do) I am seriously jazzed by that concept. What a fantastic number to stop on. I think I will keep it right there. If you join up with me, I might just go in and delete the same number of old deadbeat followers to keep it right there. I kinda like the symmetry of the number. It is a small number that I can deal with. Feels intimate, kinda homey. A bigger number just feels like someone is going to start a fight or something. Dangerous. Sort of like drinking a beer with your neighbor in the garage, while looking at your bikes or motorcycle. No girls allowed - man stuff.
Some people think that 666 is the sign of the devil. I like to think of it as the inverse of 999. Sort of like being a bat and hanging around the shop upside down. Makes the blood rush to your head. And, completely eliminates jetlag, but it does make you feel like your head is going to explode. Maybe that is why vampires look like they are going to jump you at any time. Think about the last time you were around a vampire, and I am sure you will agree with me. See?
Saturday came and went, trainer workout, dog walk, working on the motorbike session in the garage, Oatmeal and IPA etc... you know, just stuff like normal people do. I still have not gotten to the serious garage remodel and paint freshen that I need to. Summer took it's toll on the man cave. I love the garage, and no Garrison did not build it for me. Oh, I did get to a coffee shop - that just proves I am alive though. Funny how Saturdays just seem to pile on after Friday. It is like it is part of the calendar and the way of worlds or something.
I am feeling a bit like Rod Serling. If you do not know who he was, look it up - Twilight Zone, creepy stuff. I will describe what I see as weird and crazy. Things that could catch you in an alternate reality. Like Cyclocross or racing a goofy road bike over terrain that isn't really mountain bike worthy, but isn't a road either. It is in the twilight zone of bike riding surfaces. A surface that is meant to bump and tether. A surface that is neither round nor square, straight nor crooked, left nor right - it goes through the picture as it would if it were living a parallel life. Sort of oblique.
So then the Sunday came next. Part of the Regional Championship on the course from the state championship the day before on the course of the national championship of the season prior on the course of the National Championship of the season to come, making Verona part of the nation officially. (And this has nothing to do with the Green Bay Packers.) As the forecast called for rain mixed with snow and 37, I am sure that I would want to race, but alas the vicious Kanga has eliminated that possibility. "Stay away from the cans, he hates cans". (As that has nothing to do with Kangaroo's or Drop Bears, I just thought I would throw that in.) But, mud boots and frites with the sound of cowbells is what we will all be about on the Sunday. Visions of Belgian sand run ups in my head. <Belgium is the Wisconsin of Europe after all.>
It was cold. It was slippery. If you were not from Wisconsin, and had to ride in this. Ugh. I wish I could have ridden it. Looked like huge amounts of fun, even though it is just a silly sport. Sort of like going to Camelot - a silly place.
But, there were people handing bacon out on the side of the course to the racers. Gotta love a sport that has that going on.
Be careful out there people. Drop bears are everywhere.
Out,
Joe
If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have those cabinets in the garage, though. And if you tried to enforce a 'no girls allowed' policy while you were hanging out in your garage, you'd be out there alone.
And it does so snow in Kansas City.
Posted by: Punkass | December 11, 2012 at 08:44 AM