Photo blatantly stolen from Brendan's site So, after a weekend full of "bailouts" from the group I ended up getting a pretty good burn on with Brendan and Scottie of the coveted DRJ team. The term bailout is used for those who agree on a ride and call just before or, sometimes even after the roll out. There are various reasons. Very few legitimate. It is more of testimony to the difficulty of the days ride. Sometimes we are just not up to it. Sometimes we stay up too late, sometimes the wife is bitching and we know it is simply better staying home and cleaning the garage. I say that's fine, but who in the heck is watching out for our fitness? I say guilt is power. Get off your ass, off the couch and get on the bike. Don't conform to domestication, get one of those cool farmers tans, today.
"dude, I hurt my leg sliding in to home base on last nights drunken softball triple header".
"Hey Ralph, I just realized that I just simply have too much to do, you know how work kicks our butts, don't you Ralph"?
"Man, I had some bad Chinese last night, I am still not over it".
"I think I have Lyme disease".
"My mother in law, nuff said".
"Prom".
It doesn't matter what the excuse is, really. Because I choose to capitalize on this sort of thing. You see, I am old and fat and won't stop until my body fat is 10%. And, after yesterdays 105 mile ride with Scott and Brendan, I am thinking I got some serious, turbo fired one-up goodness on those who will go un-named, you know who you are.
The route was quite nice, three ferry crossings, which are somewhat of a pain in the ass. You have to wait thus losing your heart rate. Too much time waiting. We would have had a decent average without the waiting, Brenden did say that we beat the time of his last one by 7 minutes. Through St. Charles, to Golden Eagle ferry "to the right" after the climb out from the river, down a long the river past the apples. Then down and back up to the main road up to Brussels, then to Hardin, to Pere Marquette crossing at Brussels Ferry, and back to the apple road to the Golden Eagle Ferry. It was a solid ride, should have been done in 5 and change but there were a lot of stops due to the ferry crossings.
I have never seen so many people cussing, yelling and hollering at us, screwing with us. At one point, climbing up out of the river towards the apple orchards a group of motorcycles buzzed us and clipped Brendan in the arm, came by real fast and revved those motors up real good. Brendan got all pissed off and tried to chase them down to catch them at the next ferry. Scott was a little fatigued at that point so I went up to Brendan to get him to calm down. I didn't feel like fighting so I did my best to slow him up by sitting on his wheel. Let's face it, I am 45 years old, and while indeed I am certified in around 20 martial arts and greco, chinese, UFC type belt winning octogon type stuff, and my hands are registered with the CIA as weapons, lets not forget it was a century ride and I was tired.
He kept hammering so I sat on his wheel in order to get him to wear his ass down. Never happend. I was worried that he might catch them and be by himself, should things escalate. I was also worried because I didn't really feel like an altercation. We made it to the ferry and it was already half way across the river, fat-assed Harley riders spittin sunflower seeds off the back, laughing, pointing out the veins in Brendan's legs, relieved that we didn't catch dey-ass.
We had another, a family coming home from church yelled at us to get off the road. We returned fire, unleashing a furry of "share the road" commentary. The guy actually pulled over and got out of his car, Sunday best, wife and kid dressed up real nice. I was thinking: What is he going to do? Pray with us? He ended up screaming: "I have a kid in the car". I am thinking that he was referring to some of the commentary from our group, that came about after him drawing 1st blood, screaming at us from his car window. Now, I wouldn't write about this normally, but the dude really made an ass out of himself, in front of his family. All I could think of was those Amish people last week, those cleverly disguised Destroyers posing as God fearing fundamentalists. I am thinking this guy was a destroyer disciple, because he fit the same mold as the Amish, cunning, loud and ready to fight. They are dangerous, the Destroyers, beware, everywhere. The family of churchgoers followed us for a while and then disappeared in to the Heritage Days festival at the Riverfront in St. Charles, where other destroyers were beating pieces of hard steal in to armor.
"dude, I hurt my leg sliding in to home base on last nights drunken softball triple header".
"Hey Ralph, I just realized that I just simply have too much to do, you know how work kicks our butts, don't you Ralph"?
"Man, I had some bad Chinese last night, I am still not over it".
"I think I have Lyme disease".
"My mother in law, nuff said".
"Prom".
It doesn't matter what the excuse is, really. Because I choose to capitalize on this sort of thing. You see, I am old and fat and won't stop until my body fat is 10%. And, after yesterdays 105 mile ride with Scott and Brendan, I am thinking I got some serious, turbo fired one-up goodness on those who will go un-named, you know who you are.
The route was quite nice, three ferry crossings, which are somewhat of a pain in the ass. You have to wait thus losing your heart rate. Too much time waiting. We would have had a decent average without the waiting, Brenden did say that we beat the time of his last one by 7 minutes. Through St. Charles, to Golden Eagle ferry "to the right" after the climb out from the river, down a long the river past the apples. Then down and back up to the main road up to Brussels, then to Hardin, to Pere Marquette crossing at Brussels Ferry, and back to the apple road to the Golden Eagle Ferry. It was a solid ride, should have been done in 5 and change but there were a lot of stops due to the ferry crossings.
I have never seen so many people cussing, yelling and hollering at us, screwing with us. At one point, climbing up out of the river towards the apple orchards a group of motorcycles buzzed us and clipped Brendan in the arm, came by real fast and revved those motors up real good. Brendan got all pissed off and tried to chase them down to catch them at the next ferry. Scott was a little fatigued at that point so I went up to Brendan to get him to calm down. I didn't feel like fighting so I did my best to slow him up by sitting on his wheel. Let's face it, I am 45 years old, and while indeed I am certified in around 20 martial arts and greco, chinese, UFC type belt winning octogon type stuff, and my hands are registered with the CIA as weapons, lets not forget it was a century ride and I was tired.
He kept hammering so I sat on his wheel in order to get him to wear his ass down. Never happend. I was worried that he might catch them and be by himself, should things escalate. I was also worried because I didn't really feel like an altercation. We made it to the ferry and it was already half way across the river, fat-assed Harley riders spittin sunflower seeds off the back, laughing, pointing out the veins in Brendan's legs, relieved that we didn't catch dey-ass.
We had another, a family coming home from church yelled at us to get off the road. We returned fire, unleashing a furry of "share the road" commentary. The guy actually pulled over and got out of his car, Sunday best, wife and kid dressed up real nice. I was thinking: What is he going to do? Pray with us? He ended up screaming: "I have a kid in the car". I am thinking that he was referring to some of the commentary from our group, that came about after him drawing 1st blood, screaming at us from his car window. Now, I wouldn't write about this normally, but the dude really made an ass out of himself, in front of his family. All I could think of was those Amish people last week, those cleverly disguised Destroyers posing as God fearing fundamentalists. I am thinking this guy was a destroyer disciple, because he fit the same mold as the Amish, cunning, loud and ready to fight. They are dangerous, the Destroyers, beware, everywhere. The family of churchgoers followed us for a while and then disappeared in to the Heritage Days festival at the Riverfront in St. Charles, where other destroyers were beating pieces of hard steal in to armor.
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