Rites of Spring

There's a certain sense of familiarity triggering the electric impulses in the lobe of my brain where familiarity is tracked and recorded. I can smell the grease, styrofoam, and obesity in the air. That can only mean one thing... NASCAR Speed Street (I'm not linking it as to do it any more justice than it deserves). Yesterday they were assembling the tents, stages, styro delivery systems, and general nonsensical infrastructure necessary to keep this beast moving for three days. As I rode around doing my job (delivering packages of massive importance like sandwiches, light bulbs, and golf balls on my bicycle) it was alot like a Three Stooges skit. NASCARneys spinning around with tent poles on their shoulders forcing me to dodge, dip, duck, dive, dodge as golf carts carrying clip board toting higher ups zipped around to ensure that there is plenty of Budweiser and paper hats for the masses. As bad as it was navigating the human shit storm it will pale in comparison to today and tomorrow.

They will come tomorrow to line up for their 8oz plastic cup full of microwave popcorn and their Trix bunny rabbit ears made of cardboard. They will wait in line to see Tony Stewart from five feet away just to tell him how much they love Office Depot and the smell of Old Spice ("My wife's wearing it right now Tony!!!"). There will be noise, and bands, and crowds, and lines, and signs that say "NO BIKES", and a greasy film that will stick to the surface of my streets till Charlotte gets a good hard rain this September.

This "festival of fun" takes place right at the heart of our city extending from the Corporate Center of our nation's largest bank in all directions a person might need to go if that person needed to deliver important packages (like baseball hats with corporate logos) for a living. At least one messenger will get stopped by the cops and reminded about the "NO BIKES" policy. We will all probably be accosted by EVENT STAFF who have all the authority to yell at us even louder if we try to ride our bikes through the heart of this symbol of everything American and Toby Keith a second time.

I love this time of year. It reminds me that eventually I will die and never have to suffer through another Speed Street again. The only good thing about Speed Street is that on Friday after I get yelled at for the umpteenth time and drop my last package (like maybe a watch battery) I get to go home and finish packing for The Burn 24 Hour Challenge. Saturday all of Wilkesboro (well at least those who come to spectate) will get to witness The Return of Captain Dick and the Throbbing Members. Stabby, Bill Nye, Bubba Cohen, Luke (who sent me an email last night to let me know he separated his shoulder last night), and I will be throwing down our best efforts to pull off a better than mid-pack finish. Luke may be down for the count, so Leyonce you MAY BE HEARING FROM OUR PEOPLE. You have been warned.

Tomorrow there will be no bloggie. I'll be up polishing my MOOTS, ironing my MOOTSkit, and packing all the crap I need to pull this off as comfortably as possible. If you haven't read my Breck Epic blog post on Mountainbike.com save it for tomorrow to fill the void. If you have read it be sure to review it in your spare time as there will be a quiz next week.

Now piss off.

Late edit: Leyonce, you're getting called outta the bullpen. Luke is out with a case of the ouchies, so we need you to pinch ride. Get a hold of Bill Nye or email me at teamdicky at hotmail dot com ASAP!!!!!!!!!!!