After a few minutes of limbo in my Neanderthal based brain, I found myself pulling up to the start line for a second go. As I got past the first turn, things were looking much better than the first run. Midway through the second section a brown Impala passed me. The only problem with the pass was that the driver then immediately hit the brakes to turn into a driveway. When the brake lights lit up, I knew I was in trouble. When I came out of the aero position to get on the brakes, I found them to be of no use as everything was wet, and the stopping distance I needed was too short. Thus, I slammed into the rear corner panel, up onto the trunk then finally landing in a gravel driveway mud puddle. When the driver got out, it was somebody's grandmother, and she was frantic. She had no clue that I was traveling that fast. While I laid there in pain, she kept wanting to call an ambulance for me. As I looked out onto the road from my wet, gavel recliner, I saw a junior racing passing by with his dad in tow...good thing they weren't on this stretch of road a few minutes earlier. After doing a quick survey of the body, I noticed I had nothing more than some scrapes and swelling.
Once I could stand, I asked her if she would be able to get me back to the start, so I could start over and complete my second run. It's all about points isn't it. While trying to convince her not to call an ambulance, her husband rolled up in his farm truck, he had no problem with getting me and my bike back to the start. Luckily I made it just in time as they were starting to breakdown everything. I got the nod to go and set out on the course for a third time. When I passed the drive way I was previously relaxing in, I started laughing...what the heck am I doing out here? Why didn't I just call it a day?
As I approached the finish line, I saw the junior rider and dad once again. I was gaining ground on them rather quickly...so much so that we crossed the finish line at the same time. Since there was only about four feet of road at the finish for all three of us, and a semi was coming head on in the other lane, I had to take to take the rumble strips. The next thing I new my front wheel went out from underneath me, and I went sliding across the wet pavement at 35 plus. When my perfect t-ball slide came to an end and my old and newly acquired road rash was sprinkling red, I started laughing once again. Who wrecks twice during one 20K time trial? Why didn't I just call it a day earlier? Mike Jones was kind enough to ride over and make sure I was okay while junior's dad put my chain back on and got my bike all situated.
Thank goodness the rumble strips have been replaced by some smooth tarmac. I'm not sure about grandmas whereabouts for this Sunday's race, but I have come to the conclusion that nobody can drop it like I can when you hit the Bong. One thing you can always count on is for one of your teammates to come up with a witty one liner for your performance. That's just what Mr. Speed did..."B, just take your Bong as a double hit and don't stop after the
first hit, keep right on rollin' until you complete two hits in one
shot".
For those of you racing this weekend the weather forecast is looking good. The way people are riding this year...I wouldn't be surprised if a course record falls on Sunday...Bobke agrees. Jam Master Jay don't forget the Nutella au jus for the donuts and watch out for the brown Impala.
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