Monday, July 17

'17 Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest: Preamble

I get off at 1:00PM as planned and meet Jim and Leaf Life in a parking lot as planned and swap my rack over to Jim's truck as planned and toss my shit in the back as planned and we took off for Fayetteville as planned and then everything from then on went as planned... so much to say that I planned for everything to go off the rails from there.

We get to New River Bikes and two of three people that we are supposed to travel with aren't inside, but the vehicle we're supposed to hop in isn't there either, so we walk around the shop and poke our noses in things.

Jon was busy getting his clunker ready for the weekend.

Clunkers are the ironic mustache and Hawaiian shirt of a mountain bike festival. 

They take security against bad hombres as serious as they take the local vampires. 

One thing about living in Fayetteville Jon never could stomach; all the damn vampires.

They had plenty of shiny new bikes but loads more bikes with what the French speaking people of Fayetteville called "l'histoire."

Silipints.  Why promoters aren't handing us non-breakable pint glasses at races that can be dropped by people who can't handle post-race free beer, I don't know.

Andy has a good supply of Backcountry Research products.  I was sure to fix his Tülbag display so all the Dicks were facing out.

I spend some time digging in the garbage, as I'm ought to do.

SRAM/Avoid product for days.  At least they're good for something, likekeeping this box from blowing away in a strong storm.

Eventually Andy and Abby (and the Wonder Bread Van) shows up but then Jon disappears and then Shanna from Endless Bikes rolls in with her sister in a magically timed manner as they were actually on their way to a wedding.

Somehow she talks us into some food products at a nearby brewery/pizza place thing and soon after it was realized that we were supposed to be on the road mebbe a couple hours ago so we leave out for the Dirt Rag Dirt Fap Fest.

We got there well after dark and set up our shelters and then made our way to what some might consider the Dirt Rag special victims area.  Beers were plentiful and tasty and everywhere and then at some point Evan Gross decided to shove me into a cooler.

photo cred: Jon
I believe this was less out of anger or mischief and more of a scientific experiment.  I think he wanted to see if I could drink myself out of drowning in beer like Bob McKenzie.

Anyways, I'm sure the evening went late, but I turned off my phone when I got there, so I dunno.  I woke up the next day feeling like I went little hard in the paint, but not too hard.  I at least felt good enough to go for a ride...

if only the thunder and lightning and monsoon rains would let up.

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