'Cause, y'know ya just can't turn in early on a Saturday night in Austin, we had our pre-Roses warm up at The Continental Club with The Hot 8 Brass Band. The Conti is one of those joints that stamps yer paw on the way in, and last nights stamp fittingly enough read "Fuck Cancer". Now the Hot 8, I gotta tell ya, needs to be seen and heard. These guys are Nawlin's bred big-bell brass - three trombones, two trumpets, a suzaphone and two stand-up marching band-style drummers. Their version of 'Sexual Healing' is as good as it gets. With horns ringing in our ears we turned in around midnight, bouncing awake at 6:45 when the phone rang to let us know the alarm hadn't gone off and our ride was waiting outside. A few wrong turns later and we made it to the staging area just in time for our group to roll out. Two miles in, Bro-Ler on his recumbent had a flat. Got that repaired fairly easily and jammed up the road trying to catch another Fireman's Cruzer I saw passing by. Couldn't close the gap, and soon realized Bro-Ler and Bruiserella (formerly known on this site as TT3, but now there's roller derby and Bruiserella - a whole 'nother story...) were no where to be seen. Sat up and eventually stood on the shoulder, taking the opportunity to doff the arm warmers and smear on some sunblock, figuring they'd had another flat or some such hang up. Bro-Ler rolled up and confirmed, right after they got moving, Bruiserella's slicked up Hardrock also flatted. The two of us rolled on to the next pitstop where we all regrouped and proceeded with no further incidents along the rest of the 40 mile route. Now, my knee's will tell you that 40 miles on a fixed gear, especially a 24" running 2.5" Hookworm's and a 18x36 gear, is not the best feeling in the world at around mile 25 - but it sure was a gas! And when you see folks rolling along with 'Survivor' on thier jerseys it really puts things into perspective. I even saw a guy on a Crupi Racing 24 (not fixed) who was a survivor - yeah buddy. Say what you will about Lance, when you roll with six thousand folks and all the volunteers and cancer survivors who come out to cheer, it really makes it a great thing he's started - something that goes way beyond the name, the legend and the bike. Brusierella had rigged up a 'kick me it's my birthday' sign on my back, so getting tons of happy happy wishes from other riders made it a real treat. Having dad and ma-in-law at the finish capped it. Crossing the finish line, I blew a kiss to the heavens for my mom, and we rolled on to the feed tent for some chow before packing it in relatively fresh. Had some IceTurbo and a little Sunday afternoon country-western at Jo's and banged out this post. Viva Austin, Fuck Cancer forever!
Recent Comments