Sunday, September 12, 2004

The Bike Classic

Sure I'm slower than Mr. Mustard, but Eryn and I needed to watch the Vikings game.

First of all, I should note that it's Klund's Birthday, and while I'm annoyed that we're not going to Christo's again (any reason to go to Christo's is a good reason), I have to feel a little more sad for Mr. Mustard than for myself. It seems he stood outside his home all night getting a bike ready just in case Klund showed up to ride the Classic with us. I entitle this picture Mr. Mustard Weeps At Sunrise - it's difficult to see him, but he's standing there in front of his house alone, working on his bike and a bike for Klund, the tears of disappointment washing the dirt of hope from his sidewalk. Off to the right, just around the edge of the house where it's darker, his wife is lurking, making sure I'm not a bad influence on her husband, or espousing my right wing hate speech in her front yard.

Mr. Mustard will also be disappointed to know that I have this picture, and he does not. I'm not even sure he saw me snap it. I call this, Sandy and Christy do the Booty Shake On the Old Indian Burial Mounds - I think the title instills both frivolity and solemnity in equal portions.

But wait, there's more. This picture was taken almost immediately before the nuclear explosion that cleared the path of cyclists so that we could finish in time for Ming to make it to the Vikings game before kickoff. You have to really respect the dedication he embodies in that he was willing to go to the game just to do some field research for CDFFL and that he was willing to procure the components necessary to create a field-operative device to clear the way. If that doesn't get Homeland Security after him, I'm sure mentioning them directly in this post will.

And this is my bike during the Classic. And my foot, and my hand. Note that both feet are on the pedals and at least one hand - that's the key to finishing 31 miles, not getting off the bike while you're cycling.

And now pictures you'd sort of expect. Like Ming stealing a child's cookie.

More pictures of Viking-helmeted cyclists neither Mr. Mustard nor myself know.

And a series of yet more on and off the bike pictures. Sandy, Erik and Christy near the top of a hill (right before Como). Sandy finding a snack at Burial Mound stop. Erik showing Mr. Mustard how he used to warm up for swim meets and why he can still land the women with lines like "My friends call me Mr. Bendy." Mr. Mustard cruising up the final hill.

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