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ENTRY #1
Descent Du Paul: 03/31/05
SlingShot has been pulled briefly out of
retirement for one more
description of something that has mostly lost its humor for him after that
little tractor incident.
Although this present episode is titled Descent Du Paul, it actually
happened on a Silence of the
Lambs ride.
Yesterday's ride: I am stronger than ever in
recent memory. There were two other writers on the ride who will
probably want to comment, so my recounting here will be brief.
After Heart Attack Hill, and soon after the Bull's on the
Corner, we came to this little hill going up to a right turn
onto a downhill. Always before, if I'm anywhere near the group, that
is where I come back and hammer everybody on the downhill. So
yesterday, when I see this all-of-a-sudden sprint to nowhere, I
think, "What is this? Some sort of fucking "B" ride?" Then I move to
the outside, marvel at the stupidity of a sprint here, and bide my
time.
Turns out
Mary
used to need that run on the hill in order to just stay in the ride.
Since absolutely NOBODY ever assumes that a survival maneuver is
anything other than an attack, there was always a sprint to catch
her, which further inflamed Mary, which in turn triggered the
sprinters again, and so on and so forth. As Mary got stronger the
sprint only intensified, becoming a tradition which Mary calls a
habit.
This is the first time I have been strong enough to be there to see
it (thank you Florida winds), so I didn't know this is where we
sprint. I just moved to the outside and readied myself for the turn.
That's when I saw
Paul go
down, followed by Grant crashing into the back of Mary, then
Nuclear Dan
beginning his journey over
Paul's
bike while quietly whispering, "Alrighty then," and subsequently
following the very direct route over
Paul
himself, or at least partly over
Paul,
but mostly onto the pavement.
Of course, I was over to the side so missed out on getting involved,
and Brand New Bruce (the former ice-hockey player) was far enough
back (prudently being so very careful) that he also missed out on
the fun.
The cause and effect came from
Paul
trying to pass Mary on the right side. Apparently he had forgotten
(or never knew) that a little gravel just off the side of a road can
sometimes be a 4 inch cliff dropping off into a chasm of deep sand
and gravel.
It was like quicksand. There was no way
Mr. Latrine
was coming back onto the road upright. He was smacked down like an
August mosquito, and he immediately curled up into his reflexive, "I've been here
before, bikes and riders are about to wash over me like a tidal
wave" fetal position.
Mary heard that sickening clatter of a bike going down behind her,
and threw on her brakes in order to look back to see if I (her one
and only) was ok. Since this was Grant's first ride with Mary, he
didn't know what everybody else knows: stay away from Mary.
Therefore, he rear-ended her. Dan really had no choice of his own,
and was probably partially mesmerized by the carnage, so he
took the only convenient route—over
Paul's
bike, then down hilling
Paul's
winterized belly.
Paul sat
in the middle of the road for some time, his legs outstretched
sticks in front of him, a pulsating crater under his left knee, his
head bowed and rotating slowly back and forth looking up at us
all standing around him, as he muttered, "Hmm...looks like the ride
has
slowed down. Did I miss something? Oh look, I can see the ligaments
in my hand. Oh look, a bunny. Did I miss something? Has the ride
slowed down?" We finally got him to lie down, but not off the road.
We regrouped and started giving all the motorists the finger who
were really pissed off at
Paul for
being in the middle of their shortcuts home and still muttering,
"Wow...how long since we dropped the acid. Look at the pretty
colors. Did I miss something? Has the ride slowed down? Come over here
little bunny."
Actually about a dozen of the commuters did stop and offer rides,
911, etc. They probably thought if they could get
Paul in
their cars, we'd clear the road, let them through, and they could throw him out with
the rest of their trash when they got home. People from the house
next to the crash brought out bags of ice hoping to remind us we
all had reason to get home, out of the cold, and off their lawn.
Coincidentally Emille was just leaving his house (on that very
corner) for his own ride. So he popped
Paul's
bike into his garage, put him in his car, and drove the addled
Latrine in
for stitches. It was a good rest for
Paul,
and he got to work on selling Emille a new
Serotta
on the way to the hospital. Paul can sell more
Serottas
in a coma than everybody else combined can sell while conscious.Grant fixed his own broken spoke
and then wiped Mary's
butt hairs off his front skewer. After that we all rode back to
Paul's.
Humberto had been on the ride earlier; but, being a master at
knowing when to bail out of a ride, he was already off on his own
ride and doing some actual training when the shit hit the skewer. Good thing too, because he
ended up catching
Brand New Bruce on his way to who knows where after
missing a turn. Humberto turned Bruce around and brought him back on
course.
Today Dan's got a sprain or something in his hand, which is a
recurring ailment. Last time was when he rode over a woodchuck while
mountain biking. He reports the woodchuck's belly was much less of a
downhill than this more recent Descent Du Paul.
Brand New Bruce is currently in talks with his management team
trying to decide if he should return to the less aggressive and much
safer sport of ice-hockey. At least you get to carry clubs.
A group of American Road Cycling riders are mounting a
petition for
Paul to finally admit he's over 40 and needs to get to an
optometrist to have his eyes enhanced. Maybe if everything in front of him didn't look like a furry
little bunny, he might avoid such knuckleheaded maneuvers.
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SlingShot |
this page last updated:
02/01/2015 10:38:48 PM |