Monday, May 7

PMBAR 18: PreaMBleAR

Get off work at 2:00PM on Friday.  Start making my way to the mountains.  Voice text Watts.

"What's your ETA?

"I'm getting ready to leave Greensboro now."


Watts is at least an hour behind me.  No beers at The Hub before closing time, I guess.

Get to the venue, park the Honda Fit of Rage, set up my tiny sleeping platform, accept Jim's offer of a beer... since I brought none.  Wander around, talk to whoever rolls in to check-in at registration, borrow another beer... get real hungry waiting for Watts.  He drives in around 6:00PM and suggests that rather than eat, mebbe we ride bikes on the greenway to Oskar Blues.

We can do that?

I guess we can.

Two beer and some peanuts do not a supper make, so we head over to El Chapala where a contingent of single speeders have taken over the bar.  Novelty sized Dos Equis and a burrito.  It's becoming a tradition at this point.  All things in front of me put in my pie hole and we follow Scott back to his campsite for margaritas.

Celebrating Cinco de Mayo by accident.

Wake up in the Fit of Rage with a slight headache, but nothing that would kill me (thus making me stronger, emmaright?).  Watts makes me some very welcome coffee.  Two successful trips to the Porta-potty and then kit up.  This will be a good day.

Racer meeting and the passports are handed out.  Since Watts and I have already decided to give less fucks this year about "performance," I open my passport and actually (sorta) read it. 

Fuck me.

Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever has put together five very oddly placed check points, and a whole lotta convenient ways to get around the forest are off limits this time.  Jeebus.  Map spread out on the ground, I start placing stones and mulch on the places we need to go, so I can get some kinda visual reference.  From behind, a flurry of mulch and gravel bits are tossed onto my map.  I turn around, prepared to kill.

It's fucking Dahn Pahrs.  I don't kill him.

Back to my map, more mulch bits in places... I come up with a plan.  Watts and I get ready to go out, I hear somebody mumble about a plan that is contrary to mine in general direction.  I don't know if it sounds better or not, but I don't care.  I take his "plan" and go with it instead.  We're ready to head out, and then I hear someone say something about a "prelude lap."

What the... ?

Open the passport again.  Remember, I (sorta) read it already.


What the hell is 5061 and I thought Black just started right here at the parking lot and I think I know where I'm going...

We head up the usual way, get to the intersection where we normally proceed up Black, people are standing around staring at maps and passports, I confidently yell "READ THE RULES," and then ride away up Thrift... in totally the wrong direction.

People start coming down at us yelling "WRONG WAY."  I yell "WRONG WAY" back at them.

When enough people yell at us coming from the direction I thought we wanted go, I finally pull the passport back out (again).

Shit, we're going the wrong way.

Back down Thrift, up Black, right back down Thrift again, and back up Black one more time.  The chaos is constant with people going all directions and loads of people mumbling and grumbling in the woods.

Welcome to PMBAR 2018.