2012 Tuscarora Enduro Part 1

On Friday night, I was standing outside the Pub watching some rednecks try to pull start a Harley with another Harley.

It started to rain. Somebody yelled "Shoulda bought a Honda!" The rednecks got the Harley started, then tried to kill the Asian kid standing outside. He was not the one who yelled about the Honda.

On Saturday morning it rained more. I met Dahn Pahrs by the turnpike. It kept raining.

When we got to Tuscarora, the rain had slowed down a little. We parked next to Ole Cinder Bloch and Stickboy the Skinny Hobbit and headed out to do a pre-ride. Stick was on the lightest gear, 36x23, and took off up the first hill. The water had saturated the gravel sections. I felt like I was trying to ride through fresh cement. The we hit the trail. The puddles were already bottom bracket deep. We finished the six-mile lap in under 45 minutes. I started getting myself ready to do that five or more times tomorrow.

Bikes loaded, we drove to the hotel. Cider Bloch's GPS took us up and over a mountain pass, where we had to stop and clear a tree from the road.

I got the key to our room from hunched over old Peggy, and Cider Bloch discovered that he didn't fit on the beds. (If you want to keep your breakfast down, I suggest scrolling through the next part really fast. You've been warned.)

Then his big toe nail fell off:

He kicked something hard at work, and his steel toe boot broke his toe. Steel still isn't soft, even when it's lining the toe of a boot. Go figure.

After I fainted and almost drowned in a pool of my own vomit from looking at Cinder Block's toe, we went to dinner. Stickboy the Skinny Hobbit ordered a portobello mushroom burger. I grinned, knowing that his communist-vegetarian beef deficiency would lead to a poor performance in tomorrow's race. While we were eating, we talked about how we were going to trade some cogs to get lower gearings. Dahn had a 22 that he would give to Cinder Bloch, and I would take Cinder Bloch's 21.

Outside of the restaurant, somebody said "Alright, ready to get back to the hotel and do the big cog swap?"

"Yeah, let's swap some cogs," I said.

The middle aged couples going into the restaurant looked at us with their mouthes open. I'm pretty sure they heard, "Alright, ready to get back to the hotel and do the big cock swap?"

"Yeah, lets swap some cocks."

The next morning, Peggy made us blueberry waffles. I covered mine in Table Syrup, which doesn't even pretend to have maples in it. To be continued.