Monday, October 5, 2009

"Burnin's" on the legs




I felt a little as if I was being dared to ring the door bell of old man Karnes house, or better yet, forced to toss the water balloon from the roof top on the folks below the graduating class at Jeff Jr High School. That is what it felt like when Eric and The Geezer rolled down the ramp on the almost completed highway 40 at Clayton Road and Skinker. We would run the entire new section of sweet smoothness before getting off at Hanley without as much as a whistle from anyone of power.

I am not normally one to be influenced like this, not after John Manning convinced me that throwing the dirt clod at Ronald Parton's car back in the 2nd grade would grant me access in to "the club". It was minutes later that Ronald, who would eventually go to prison, tossed our bikes over a bridge and assaulted Gordon, the other poor sole who listened to John's advice. We all wound up in court.

But this was different, this was a 51 and a 60 year old man telling me that it would be alright, to just go with it, shut up and ride my bike. "What are they going to do, arrest us?" I reluctantly jumped on their wheel as we made our way down the ramp and on to highway 40.

It was just last winter I did a time trial on the other side, inaugurating the newer portion of the highway. The opening happening just in time before I was to slice my wrists because of Clayton Road fury. It was so time to open that section, as it is nearing the time when the second section is to be completed. Why not poach it? We didn't get arrested, our tax dollars have indeed been put to good use, and we were able to "waldo pic" ourselves in a spot where others might not have gone quite yet.

Another thing about these two and their idea of fun. This one including Thrasher and the reason why my legs are still bloody from the Castlewood/Chubb roundabout from Saturday. Five hours and 40 miles of pain. Word to you: Anyone planning on making the way to Chubb by way of the West section of Glencoe railroad trestle should think about what it is like in one of those off-trail eco-exterra competitions. We made it but it was about the hardest thing we have done thus far, this year. The trail is not existent much more and thirty trees are down. No need to slice my wrists, my legs are battered and chewed from the honey suckle and brier associated with this sort of trekking. Paul giggled like a kid all the way to the creek, and then again at the dump, where we never did find our way to the backside of RollerCoaster.

Now, I am not advocating the use of the dump. At one time we found ourselves on the downside of the "hill" in seapage. The water, smelling of sulfur and likely glowing, entered my bloodstream by way of the open gashes on both of my legs. I don't like wearing tights on these guns. So when Eric piped up with "hey, my legs are not bad at all", I dropped him like a water balloon.

So two decent epic centered rides in a row. We are so ready for Burnin that we may change our name from "Old Fu$%##'s" to "The Three OPINKO's". Word.

1 comment:

Paul said...

Candy ass!