Greetings, Loyal Team Seagal Fans, teammates, and jerks. This is an exciting time of the season for a mountain biker. The races are starting to come in a more regular frequency, and there are still plenty left for which to get hot and bothered. I know a lot of people are thinking about how little they've been able to race in the dirt this year, (for numerous reasons) but I also know that this weekend's race, I mean, spontaneous group ride, was the cure for that bullshit.
We heard a few whispers of some sort of organized, non-sanctioned, no-entry-fee event to be held in Jeff City back in the early part of the season, like at Lost Valley. Well, it was this Sunday, and you probably missed it, deciding instead to sit at home and watch the news all day, only to find out that the only other interesting thing that happened was that Billy Mays died. It's okay, I actually cried a little bit too at the loss of his magnificent beard. But yeah - you shoulda been at the race, I mean, spontaneous group ride that was loosely organized by those Red Wheel jerks.
Team Seagal HQ deployed a 6-man unit for a full-frontal assault on Binder Lake trails. Recently declassified documents show that 6-man unit to include Mason Storm, Forrest Taft, Cockpuncher, Jonathon Cold, the good Doctor Wesley McLaren, and myself - Casey Ryback. The good Doctor was somewhat hard to reach though, as he has been spending a lot of time out on the greens of the TC Man Golf Course, where there is little in the way of direct communication. I'm told he was on the back nine when he received his deployment orders.
The rest of us extracted ourselves from the places where we woke up, and made the trek over to the trailhead with *just* enough time to get our shit together and line up. (Fortunately for us, no time had to be needlessly spent paying entry fees and registering and getting one-day licenses. Not today.) After teh shortest Le Mans-style start evar, we were man-training through the woods at breakneck speed. I found myself patiently picking dudes off, which was going super well, until I came up behind one Bob Jenkins, who had that look in his eye... you know the look, where a dude is more interested in rasslin' than ridin'. I was like "No thanks Bob, I don't want to wrestle you now, I just want to get past you." He was then like "Okay, maybe I'll just 'rassle with Nick later after the race. I bet I can rip his underpants out..." (Note: dramatization - may not have happened.) I even passed the Doctor as he started to make a wrong turn, which allowed me put a gap that I *somehow* kept the rest of the race/SGR. I finished in 6th place, nearly catching up to our buddy Dan Miller who took 5th by like .34 seconds. (He modestly says that he hasn't been riding the mtb much this year, but I think that his 100% lack of body fat does something to help him go fast regardless.) Drew had a a tough time keeping his chain on - but I think he just has been spending too much time on the geared bike.
Forrest Taft didn't just pop his mountain bike race cherry, he pulled a "Gallagher" on that cherry by crushing the 3 laps, the whole time battling with teammate Jonathon Cold. They crossed the line with Jonathon *narrowly* edging him out for 21st place. If you look at the results, you'll see a 1 second gap between them:
A healthy crowd showed up to cheer on and support the 39 men and women that showed up to competitively ride in this spontaneous group ride. The weather was a HUGE departure from the most recent soul-crushing heatwave. Mid-80s, and a cool breeze filtering through the trees kept everyone super comfortable. The trail was freshly-weed-eated, and in perfect shape. HEAR THAT? NO RAIN, MUD, OR OPPRESSIVE HEAT - SHOULDA BEEN THERE!
It was AFTER the race/SGR that the real action started, though. When you take a bunch of tired/hungry mountain bikers, add PBR and 40's, add BBQ, mix with good company, and you have a great time on your hands. And a lot of homo-erotic grab-ass. Some crappy pictures I snapped off:
This group of geniuses was on their way to cram 5 people into one crap-filled inflato-rowboat:
Some of that grab-ass I was referring to, where Bob ripped Nicks underpants:
Farinella juicin' 40's with Nick:
Nick's ass, with a Gorbachev-esque spatula-shaped mark on his ass:
I'm the lyrical gangsta, and Mason was the "crunk" gangsta, and slept the whole way home:
"You want some food, Mason?"
*barely audible* "burger n fries"
Something worth mentioning that wasn't captured on film: Doctor getting tea-bagged. Not by choice.
Things that are happening this week: Dirt Crit #1 and a Middlefork ride next Sunday! Stay tuned, because you are invited to BOTH. Seriously, dude - you can even invite your grandma, who is probably looking for some excitement anyway, which is why she was in Hawaii:
-Casey F. Ryback