If you’ve followed my chronicles for any length of time, you’ve read the stories I’ve posted on The Homie, and all the chaos they contain..
If not, you should go check those out. They were pretty good.
I’ve used terms like ‘one part fire, and two parts gas’, ‘throwing me down the stairs into a kiddy pool full of booze’, and ‘a bullet train to drunkingham’, and really, from that point, there isn’t anywhere to go but down. Truth be told, this year seemed a bit quieter.. Short and Angry didn’t get into fisticuffs with GenO, One Eyed Zeke didn’t vanish into the woods in a mushroom fueled haze, Sov didn’t yank the hat off of a hapless driver’s head after he attempted to break the chain of ner-do-wells with his SUV, Linden wore no chef hat while people threw fireworks into his work space, and Emily didn’t go three for three;
Before I get into any of what did go down though, a public service announcement from Grayboy;
“Found items (see photo): blue full-face helmet, green military cap (Marlin?), left Specialized glove, left Pearl Izumi glove, right Outdoor Research glove, right Lake Winter glove, right brown suede glove, Planet bike single-LED front light, Black Diamond 3-LED headlamp, black Thermos top…not shown (Marlin?). I’ll hold onto this stuff for a month, and then it goes away if nobody claims it.
I got to the site around 10:45am, and it was still a fucking mess. Lots of stinkeye from hikers and dogwalkers, of course. Jamie (don’t know his last name…messenger who rode with B-Rad back in the day) was there, walking his dog…and shaking his head. He wasn’t at the Homie, but he still helped me pick up (4) 30-gallon bags and (1) 55-gallon bag full of evidence…plus the crap listed above, which does not include 8 full beers, $.50 in quarters, and an orange Bic that will not be returned to their former owners. Thank Jamie when you see him.
First off, I of course have to offer Grayboy thanks. We were on our way to clean up, but it would have ended up occurring about 9 hours after he was there. He’s a machine, and we are not.
Now, I have to again go on record and say that this year actually seemed to contain a dose of decorum, though not that any of that would be apparent in the following photographic evidence. I walked away with my liver, digits, and reputation more or less intact, which I suppose is more than could be said for a few folks who had the misfortune of following Saturday’s train into the woods along the Mighty Mississippi;
That’s the short version.. So really, at this point, what else is left to say but “THE END”?
There were some other things that happened as well, one of which involved hash, and the temporary loss of one’s mind, bedbugs, Schriner buying a round of bloody marts, a two and four year old having no concern for my hangover and playing the same song at top volume over and over and over at the ass crack of dawn, and Paul Zeigle proving that no matter how many various substances he puts in his body, he’s still a better bike rider than you are.
To say that it’s not an event for the weak of heart is an understatement.
If you think you’re a tough guy, give it a shot. For the rest of you, there is always the SSWC..