It's 4:16 a.m. and I've just gotten home from the first Wednesday Night Ride of 2004. A 4-Pack of riders showed up: Mark of the Beast, Power Wagon, Grave Day, and Dwight Trashed. G as in Jeezus!
A brief alley tour, followed by a nice leisurely ride down Minnehaha Creek, (on the ice, natch; I mean, shit, it's been minus ONE THOUSAND for the past three days, so what the fuck, and complete with a slow leak-to-tube change flat for me) led us to our initial base layer at Westrum's (43rd & Nicollet).
Absconding from Westrum's, what better way to kick off the Nu year, than a fire. So back to the creek, below Lyndale, for a scramble burn, and this was all fine, since both Power Wagon and myself held flasks. After some drunken calls to Chevil Knevil, McFluff, Zito and others (as the first 4 riders of '04, we've decreed that we are the Chairmans of the Board, and the time for rousting is now! Brauer, you softie! Sov-you ain't evil!), it was time to hit the bricks. Southernly for the other three lads, northwest for me. Well I didn't make it off the creek before I felt the reoccurence of a flat rear tire, and with no tube, and broken pump besides, I flailed the 34 x 17 Kona Unit home on the rim, under the influence of my I-pod. Thank god for loud music and Ritchey 2.35 Z-Max. I'm eating cold pasta and drinking carrot juice.