MFXC 2013 - Now With 23% Moar Wickedness, and 13% Less Coherence!

Greetings Fellow Jerks and Jerkettes! Boy what a weekend we had here in the southern part of Missouri out in the woods. The long-anticipated MFXC was finally birthed unto this local scene. After several months of gestating in the womb of one of our brain-trusts, the storied "Senior Director of Pizza Delivery in New Pizzastan" made it happen.

After some pre-deployments were dispatched for trail clean-up, employing the "reverse landing strip" methodology of trimming, we were ready for a full ride, and with minimal weeds to deal with. To clarify, the reverse landing strip is just what you might think it is - instead of trimming both sides of the "bush" while leaving the center unkempt, this is where the central corridor is trimmed back, leaving the unkempt bush growing on either side, but far enough back so as to not encroach on the nice, bare trail for us to play on.

Prepared for distributing this time around was much schwag, such as awesome Kona mugs, tons of PBR goodies, custom batches of coffee from Middlefork Coffee Roasters in Seattle, goodies from ENO Hammocks, Velocity, The Hub Bike Shop, and oh yeah - the sweetest t-shirts this side of a death metal concert merch table. Don't forget the untold amount of free beer from PBR Dave, courtesy of one fantastic sponsor - Pabst Blue Ribbon.
modeling the shirt.

The start time was set at 9PM, from group campsite C. In typical C"Rot"ch fashion, I arrived not long before official start time - just enough time to add my tent to the shanty town/hammock district that had sprouted up on the west side of the campsite. I also found the one and only Farinella starting construction of his new wizard staff. At this point of the night, it was still more of a "wizard wand" but I knew that it would not be long before it reached it's full potential:

As launch time approached, all the non-racers started congealing at our campsite for the start. To be honest, we had hoped that there would be a few more people, but with other draws this weekend like the Show Me State Games, that fucking World Naked Bike Ride, and any number of local groups out on their fucking awesome mountain bike road trips to the western states, we were up against some formidable opponents. At least we had more beer. However, I was left to assume that all the representatives from Team Red Wheel such as Nick, Matt Stacey, Borb Jorkens, Turbo, Stoney, and all the rest were busy attending the grand opening of that Roman-style bathhouse that just opened in Jeff City. I heard that there was planning to be a celebrity appearance by Criss Angel, who was fresh off of his "Let's Put the Boys Back into Boise, ID" Tour.

Lining up with headlights on, we dispatched our non-racers into the night amidst a flurry of intestinal gases and fireworks.

This was the cue for myself, Jerkward Toscani and Mrs. Crotch and Mrs. Toscani to head deeper into the woods where we would welcome the racers descending down the hill from Hwy 32. Farinella and friends would continue even further down for further merriment. Nico took this time to engage in a lengthy nip-blasting session, despite the temperatures dipping into the low 50's: (Let me repeat that - low 50's in fucking July, in fucking Missouri)

From that station, we moved down the road, and en route came across Punchor and Jacob choo-chooing down the road, so we had to go all  Team-car on them and provide them with a mid-non-race feed-zone:

We managed to just see a few people motor through that checkpoint, and we missed the guy with the shotgun in his lap who stopped to see what all the noise was all about. So we decided to pilot the team car back up the start/finish, where even moar merriment would ensue. I feel as though I should apologize on behalf of our entire non-race party to all the other camp0rz at the CB campgrounds that night - because we kept the party train rollin' until the wee hours.

As everyone rolled into the campsite, having crushed out 28ish miles of nocturnal Ozark goodness, we let it rip:
A truly magical night!

Strove mistook a thorn bush for a rapist and attacked. Soothed only with beer held in his new awesome Kona mug.

Nice beverage sleeve!

A couple of wizards and their tools of the trade.
As the night much was discussed. Punch0r, the official sweeper, or better yet - the official "mop guy" at our Team Seagal peep show, rolled in, but we knew there were still two people left out there, having to beat off the mountain lions by themselves - Samuel Axel, and Jacob Rohter. We were asking the question, "where are they?" And the only answer we had was the same answer that the lady who tossed out this pregnancy test that Nico found the other day received:
"results inconclusive"
However, just when the alarms were getting to be at critical levels, they both rolled in, telling a tale of  going on a long vision quest of self-discovery, general disarray, and unintended wanderlust - fortunately resulting in the two of them arriving right back at the start.

Happy to be at full strength once again (despite Peat and D-Wayne having to make an early retreat,) we continued late into the night. Scooter had a few beers, and managed to outdo himself yet once again. In a state of general confusion and incoherance, he wandered into the woods, where he emerged at a horse farm. Thinking to himself "these horses look like they are out to cause trouble" he took it upon himself to sedate them with the horse tranquilizer he happened to have in his pocket, so that they wouldn't cause any more problems. Borrowing the farmer's truck and trailer, his crazy mental state at the time led him to load up those horses and take them down the road and deliver them in downtown Potosi. A handful of people drinking in the parking lot of Country Mart did not like these horses running loose, so they confronted our poor Scooter, who promptly proceeded to kick all of their asses, then vomit on their KO'd faces, all with one of his hands tied behind his back. Also, his pants were down with his wiener out. How embarrassing. Thinking that the law will be coming down on him, he realized that he had best get the hell out of town quick. But he was pretty hungry, so he hacked those horses up, started a fire, and cooked them for breakfast with some eggs. The leftovers, he mailed to Valley Meat Company so they could be packaged and exported. What a true jerk - I sure hope this story doesn't end up on StlBiking.

And what would a Team Seagal camp out ride thing be without a large supply of tubed meats?
courtesy of Travis.
That night much was discussed, from new and innovative ways to harvest jenkem, to upcoming events, but everyone was excited to hear about my new gravel racing bike:
the "Gravel Blaster"

The next day we awoke, and moving at a truly glacial pace, we ate breakfast and prepared for a lap of the Bluff, with a trip up the "stairs" to the top of Johnston Mountain, where we would then take the elevator back down. The Toscani's had a delicious breakfast, and, in a picturesque scene that looks like it would be on the cover of an L.L. Bean or Eddie Bauer catalog, decided to make that catalog photo even better by juicin' a couple of morning Stags:

On a side note, I have some big Council Bluff news. On my way to my morning constitutional, I noticed the newly constructed shitter. It was still locked, as I don't believe that everything was ready for the grand opening. But rest assured, this is sure to be a great draw to the area. I am not sure if this is simply to add capacity to the campgrounds, or to replace the older, out-dated shitter that is right next to it. I'm not sure what determines out-dated or out-moded in the world of pit-toilets, but then again, I am not in the business of primitive toilet technology. If the old shitter is to be kept around, I think that I would prefer to continue to use it instead of the newer one, as the instantaneous jenkem high I receive every time I enter it is simply hard to replicate after decade and decades of baked-in flavor. Kinda like a cast-iron skillet or wooden spoon. The flavors of past meals add the flavor of the future ones. Here they are, side-by-side:
We here at Team Seagal HQ, particulary myself, Doctor and C-Dubs, are eagerly looking forward to the grand opening. I am hoping they have a red-carpet event planned, with many celebrities showing up such as husband and wife Brad Poo-t and Angelina Jo-pee, Bruce Will-piss, French actor Gerard Depar-doodoo, Piss-topher Walken, Leonardo Di-Crap-reo, Dame Judy Stench, Paul Poo-man,  Peter O'Stool, Faye Bombsaway, and many more. It should be a brown-star-studded night.

Before long, we saddled up for a ride up to the top of Johnston mountain.
Ready to ride with my new jersey, courtesy of Strove

Scooter had never seen the view from atop the mountain, so we were all excited.  However, he nearly self-derailed his ascent by having a few too many morning beers causing numerous wrecks on the way to the top. We were worried he would "fall down the elevator shaft." Fortunately, he and everyone else - myself, ItsNotDelivery, Kitten Bottoms, Stoveward, and Drewby, all made it to the top, where fate would join us with none other than the Rolla Giant himself, Dan Fuhrmann, who was rectumfying/rectifying his inability to do the ride last night on account of failed headlights by completing the entire ride during the daylight. He made a trip to the top of the mountain where we were drinking summit beers, courtesy of Stoveward's commitment to lug them all up in a backpack. Nice work.

We safely negotiated the descent of the extra-loose elevator shaft, and continued to pinch off our daytime loop of the Bluff. We arrived back at the campground, where we would finally meet up with Lawman, who brought much good news from his recent OTA board meeting (translation: OTA float trip.) He also brought news of a nice little bait shop that just opened up less than 1/4 mile from the DD/32 trailhead. I made sure to stop there on the way home, and it is a *very* modest yet inviting little spot located on 32 just a few hundred feet west of DD/32, and it's a great spot to pick up bait or some snacks or non-alcoholic beverages before setting out on an excursion. Stay tuned for news of a shuttle service - but in the meantime, make sure you stop by to see what's up.

In the meantime, we continue to hope that Valley Meat Company can make progress in their efforts to bring much needed jobs to our great state. In the the meantime, please check out the newly energized Team Seagal Arizona blog - specifically the comments section.

-Casey F. Ryback


From the non-desk of the non-race non-director:

Huge thanks to all of those who came out and donated money to the peeps at OTA, shredded some sweet trail at night, and made it totally worthwhile to put in the time and money to get this ready.

Thanks to Titty and Drewby for helping clear trail. Thanks to Stove for clearing and marking the course with me (and carrying the beer to the bluff on sunday). Thanks to Coach, Nico, Farinella, and others for providing on-course mayhem guidance. Thanks to Lori for taking money and keeping the hooligans in line at registration. Thanks to Puncher for designing and buying those mother fuckin bad ass race t-shirts. Thanks to Tom Petty for leaving the heartbreakers at home to sweep the MFXC course with Cockpuncher. Thanks to Scooter for helping flatten out some of the bumpy spots in the trail on Sunday with his face. (If the trail looks smoother near the bridge at the connector please thank scooter).

The nicest team in mtbing swept the raffle prize podium with Maria, Peat, and Dwayne of Team Noah winning the $300 Hub Gift Certificates, ENO hammock, and Velocity Blunt SL rims respectively.

Numerous non-racers jerks will have a successful morning bowl movement thanks to bags of beans from Middle Fork Roasters. Many others will better be able to receive service while not presenting service at any establishment having a "no shoes, no shirt, no service sign" thanks to PBR and many t-shirts. Many large trees were drug from the woods late at night/early in the morning thanks to cases of PBR.

Hopefully everyone is enjoying their Kona Beer* Mugs. When all of your friends become jealous the remaining mugs are available at the Hub Bicycle Co in Webster Groves for the same $10. All money still goes to the Ozark Trail Association. After the weekend the total is hovering a little north of $300 we will donate.

And Finally the Top Ten:

1a. Peat "I probably don't need a last name anymore" Henry
1b. D-Wayne! Goscinski
3. Strove Friedman
4. Matt "I wish I knew how fast singlespeeds are sooner" Johnson
5. Scooter
6. E. "i didn't get the singlespeed memo those in front of me did" K.
7. Luke "when is gino riding at matson?" N.
7. Hunter H.
9. Maria E.
10. Dave H.

Thank you all and GTF!

-Mayor of Pizza Town

*if you aren't drinking beer right now because you are currently a roadie in training who recently appeared on the cover of the Webster Kirkwood Times most other beverages are acceptable except for zero calorie water flavoring drops. No. Never. Just no.


MFXC 4: Final Update

Those of us at Seagal HQ are more excited about this weeked than Criss Angel was the summer he got hired as a  counselor at Camp Weeno Dubac Groundcheks...

The weather is looking totally amazors for July in Missouri. Today's little bit of rain should make the trails perfect. Don't forget a jacket so you don't upset your mom, there will be a chill in the air overnight.

There will still be water at one point on course just in case. We will also have a fire or two going at the start/finish to warm up to or throw some food on if you want after the non-race is over.

One last time:

Start/Finish in the Council Bluff Campground off of hwy DD in Iron County. Starts at 9pm.

Be there.

There will also be a group ride Sunday morningish around the lake with a trip up to the bluff. A not miss for those that haven't been there.


MFCX 4: Buffin dat trail

With MFXC 4 only 6 short days way Team Seagal HQ dispatched 3 jerks to check on and clean up most of this years race route. Many points of interest occupied the day from rye whiskey to the plight of feral cats stalking your favorite OT parking lot to the quality of meat in Hardees breakfast sausage, but the main goal of the day was to snap the wrists of any trees impeding or slowing the flow of Middlefork trail goodness.

Many a tree was rolled off the trail, snapped in a half, or brought down to a lower level. And thanks to the patented Reverse-Landing Strip* applied to the trail by the AmericaCorp mowing crews and the OTA the MFXC 4 route is getting ready to shred. If you want some of this, you will have to head to your favorite Northern Arkansas race next May.

Final course length looks to be about 28 miles with 9 miles of that on gravel. It's a little longer than wanted for a night non-race, so there will be a marked optional bail out of about 23 miles (a little over 9 on gravel) for those that worry about being out too long.

Not having a Lawman with us and his certified sawyering skills leaves you to hack away...

DrewB working out some frustrations

Titty approved!

My grandma could ride over that now

Using found objects as directional arrows

I think you need new gloves Mr Mammary

Found on an old North Trace section a couple of years ago

*all clean where you're looking to go, all bushy and overgrown off to the sides


MFXC 4: Teh Prizors

For those of you planning to be at the Council Bluff campground in 9 days, you know the reason you will be there: Team Seagal puts the party in "late night underground non-race awesomeness" (I'm sure there's a party in there somewhere, but if not it's still awesome and here's a "p" and "y" to help you out)

For those of you not spending the weekend getting ready to set your new PR at the local Y on Sunday,   here's some more reasons give the OTA $10. You could win any one of these prizes:

1. ENO Hammock

2. Pair of Velocity Blunt SL 29er rims

3. $300 worth of Gift certificates to the Hub Bicycle Company

4. Bags of custom roasted PNW Coffee beans from Middle Fork Roasters, Seattle WA.

Plus every $10 will get you one of those manly Kona thumbs up mugs.

PBR will provide beverages and other items as PBR Dave is known to do.

For those who can't be bothered to read any posts below this...


Saturday July 27, 9:00PM

Council Bluff Campground

Length: approx 25 miles


MFXC 4: Moar details

It's time to release more details about the upcoming MFXC 4.

Like all non-races participation is always free, but there will be some differences this year. For one, no registration is required. Just show up with an acceptable bicycle and some lights (this is a night non-race after all). Not all bicycles are considered acceptable.

There will also be a raffle with this years MFXC. Tickets will be $10 with prizes from ENO, Velocity, the Hub and others. Every non-racer must purchase at least one raffle ticket to ride in MFXC 4. Plus Kona Bikes will be providing to every non-racer one of their brand new beer mugs*:
actual mugs stand upright, if it looks like this you've had too much. team seagal always reminds you to drink irresponsibly

Guess what the value is of each one is... yes, $10. Which is coincidentally the current value for a tanker truck full of jenkem. Sorry Coach.


So make sure to spread the word (yes this even means the facebooks) to get as many jerks and jerk-affiliated peoples down for MFXC 4. If you don't have lights, borrow some or buy some. Your going to need them for Burnin' this year anyway because you are going to Burnin. Right?

MFXC 4: Saturday July 27, 9:00PM

Length of about 20-25 miles this year, so that people aren't out on the trail until the middle of the night.

It's in the first post on MFXC4, but the start will be from the Council Bluff Campground like last year.

*while quantities last, total of 50 will be available


2013 Noah Memorial Ride

Greetings, Team Seagal Campionissimos! What a glorious set of weekends we've had. Last weekend, you may remember, we engaged in another Vampire Century, leaving us dozing off in the saddle, and drinking IPAs on the Arch steps. This weekend, a select few of your heros joined forces with another, potentially even more badass cycling entity, Team Noah, on the 2nd Annual Noah Memorial Ride.

This year, the goal of this ride - a full century - would be a no-drop ride, being kept at a talking pace for the entire time. Last year, the ride put the "balls" into "balls-out," and when the organizer of the ride ends up left behind, that is no fun at all. What is more fun is being able to enjoy the ride and comradery of your fellow lycra-clad dudes and dudettes all in a group for the whole day.

I was especially excited to find out that pace would be something that I could maintain the entire day, being more man than I used to be. Not only that, but with the infamous Peat as our wayfaring guide, the route was no doubt going to be a glorious path of cycling centuriosity.

The target time was 7AM at Steinberg Ice Rink, a most glorious of starting areas. I looked around, and found that our group was comprised mostly of mountain bikers reluctantly mounting skinny tires and drop bars for the sake of paved efficiency. This is no surprise, as Team Noah itself is comprised mostly of mountain bikers, such as D-Wayne, Peat, Brett H, new-ish to StL Maria, and others. We had an excellent group starting out, and if you'll look closely, you'll see the hulking masses that are Dr. Roland Sallinger, the Punch0r of Cocks, and myself, Crotchward F. Crotchback:
photo courtesy of Brad Baum

It was most excellent, rolling out early in cool weather, rolling through the Loop, up Midland, and out to Creve Coeur Lake, while making sure to stop fairly often for water/natural breaks. This early on a Sunday, the roads were empty - empty like Punch0r and I were wishing our bowels were for the first hour. Fortunately, our saddle pounded those gopher heads back into their dwellings. Punch0r started out the ride having had a quick onslaught of pressure, while the pressure I was feeling had slowly built up like the caldera of a Volcano slowly rising, waiting to blow.

Before long, our group shaved itself down to the core centurious club, and after wo-man-training through the Creve Coeur flats (and getting totally served by some hardcore broski with a Sora triple laying on his rest-bars) we ascended Hog Hollow and regrouped at the gas station at the top.

Continuing on, we found ourselves on a short section of the Vampire Century course, but we would soon detour onto some secret gems that Peat found hidden away in the suburban neighborhoods. Unfortunately, D-Wayne would come to break a spoke on the backside of Orville, however our very own Punch0r of Cocks came to the rescue and landed him a replacement wheels after a short detour to Casa del Punch0r.

During this period, I found out that this was only Maria's 3rd time riding road with other people since moving up to the Mound City, and I must say she was in luck, being able to experience some of the best roads that our region has to offer - such as one of the Death-By-Hills Highlights, Babler Forest. I saw 53 mph on the way back down that hill. We regrouped with Punch0r and D-Wayne at the top of Wild Glue-bag Creek Road, before descending down Reiger.

Our next stop was the Mobile at Old Manchester and 100, where Punch0r, exhibiting a most Superior State of Mind, procured a sixer of Double-wide IPA, in which both he and I partook, though Peat served us both by showcasing a new parlor trick by inserting a straw into the neck of the bottle in order to more efficiently engage in pounding. Kind of like shotgunning a glass bottle. Meanwhile, Dr. Sallinger was spotted eating a salad. Whether or not he ate this salad to wash the taste of hobo-balls from his mouth is still unclear at this time. Departing this station, we choo-chooed around Ridge Road, passed Zombie Road, once again getting foiled by being unable to see downtown from the Ridge Road lookout due to the heavy haze in the air.

It was around this time that Punch0r reminded me that I definitely do put the "rot" into "Crotch." I could not have been happier. My happiness subsided briefly as I had to winch my ass up St. Paul Road, but it was not long before my happiness reached new heights when we had an unexpected run-in with the esteemed Tom Albert and his wonderfully hospitable family! What an amazing moment, as even though Tom may seem like a very responsible, upstanding, well-respected citizen and member of society, do not be fooled. This guy knows how to party. And from a fellow StL bike scene dork like myself, being greeted by Tom like this kinda of sums it all up:
Why I most certainly will drink that Shift!
His wonderful family recognized our state of mind in this wings-a-blahzin heat, and emerged from the house bearing a massive tub of ice, a flowing garden hose, and most amazingly, ice boners:
The self-lubricate as they're inserted.
Peeling wo-man train away from Das Albert Haus, we continued our mission up the hill. Peat, being a raised in suburbia like myself, knows that the best way to get around out there is to know the neighborhoods, and use them to get places. And this knowledge was most certainly employed to great effect, as we barely touched a single non-neighborhood road before doing a short loop on the actual sales floor of the Trek Store on Manchester Road. (No really, the automatic doors opened and we flowed through, passed the clothing racks, said hi, and left through the same automatic door.

Negotiating a hair-raising left turn from Manchester Road onto Mason, we took that to Ladue, and then up the rarely-encounter "Ladue Widowmaker," and then continuing into Clayton. Realizing that we were going to come up short on mileage, we called an audible and diverted to an ascent of the last granny-ring climb of the day - Southwest. We would then pass by Orin "Mason Storm Is My Landlord" Boyd's house, ride through The Hill, back into the Park, complete a loop, lose Peat as he had to go chase down a lucky lady, and pinch off the loop to give us a full hundo.


Arriving back at the Punch0r Mobile, I was amazed that we stayed together as a group of about a dozen people for the entire ride - pretty amazing. so to celebrate, I was elated to find delicious hot dogs already grilled up and ready to put in my face. Old Guy Extrordinaire Rich Pierce had prepared amazing black beans and torillas in an iron skillet, Maria hnad brought gooey butter cake, there were donuts, beer, fizzy sugary drinks, OH MAN.

What an excellent way to spend the day. And it won't be long before we try to get a double-berryman in the books with D-Wayne. It has to happen. An awesome day, awesome ride, and I am happy to say that almost no cars screwed with us, which is pretty surprising considering that our large group was usually taking the lane. In fact, the light at McCausland and Southwest had our group receiving probably a half-dozen drivers voicing their support to us, which was super cool!

Thanks to the Goscinski Family, Peat in all his bearded (and lycra-clad) glory, the Heurrings, and everybody who came for making a glorious day, one which we'll all be looking forward to next year!

-Casey F. Ryback


It's Back!!! MFXC 4

That's right Team Seagal aficionados, it is time for another MFXC non-race: MFXC 4, it's twice as much number 2.

Saturday July 27th 9PM

Start: Council Bluff campground

Route: estimate of 25-30 miles (still in progress)

Stay tuned for more details.


Second Official Vampire Century Down the Toilet/In the Books

Greetings, Team Seagal Muchachos! This past weekend yours truly (Coachward F. Crotchington) along with a like-minded, highly-trained strike force completed this year's first nocturnal (near) century. This being the prime time of year to embark on such an adventure, being that these are the shortest nights of the year, and it is into the hottest days. The irony about this is that this weekend we saw some of the coolest temperatures in weeks. We may have actually dipped below 60 degrees.

The temps may have dipped below below 60, but the humidity stayed steady hovering in a very St. Louis-esque 90-150%, making sure to keep our arms sensuously glistening with sweat in the moonlight as we climbed up every Missouri Mountain in our sights.

We managed to put together quite the Murder as we met at Los Casa del Crotch-O a little earlier than last year, at about 10pm. Setting sail from Porto del Ryback, I was joined by the following posse:
-Gino "Let's Wake Up Steve Friedmann" Felino
-Nico "The Best Birthday Gift This Year Was Penis Free of Poison Ivy" Toscani
-Samuel "Wicked Witch of the West" Axel
-Jonathon "Quintuple the Size of Last Year's Tires" Cold
-Orin "Last Minute Entry" Boyd
-Cock "Wearing a Jacket With Shorts" Punch0r
-John "This Is How I Spend My Vacation" Lake
-Emily "You Mean We're Only Doing One Lap?" Korsch
-Hunter "Dark Horse Singlespeeder"
-Tyl0r "I've Reproduced" Bicknese

Notably absent from this year's ride: Tom "Ask Me How My Cycle Is Doing" Marsh, and Jack "Tubed Meat Specialist" Tagg0rt.

Embarking through the lit-streets of South StL, we took a path up Gregg Road in honor of Gino, passed Little Chinatown (formerly inhabited by Lt. Col. Austin Travis, Stoveward P. Stovington III, DA9SPDR, and Jerkward) and then westward down Clayton to Conway, where we enjoyed quiet, car-free county riding until we passed 141, where we experienced a cloudburst that was enough to have us seek shelter in the St. Luke's parking garage for a little while:
With our chamois' soaked and our lenses splattered, we continued slightly further upon the termination of precipitation to seek out some beverages to lift our moral at the nearest gas station:
2x4's were procured, and with one left over, Jerkward offered it to the wheel-chair bound toothless clerk, who respectfully declined, being a man of good work-ethic. Instead, we found a young, confused dude, possibly having emerged from his "office" behind the dumpster to see what the commotion was, and upon being offered this beverage, promptly took it and retreated to his office to await another client.

By this point, both Tyl0r and Axel peeled off, either being called home for familial duties or because water might speed up the melting process. We pressed on, out on Wild Horse Creek Road (although it would be Wild Glue Creek Road if I had any say in the matter) and took a quick "Leroy" onto Old Eatherton, where our course would merge with the Death By Hills course for a few miles. This means an ascent of Orville, and a lovely ride over the smoothest surface this side of the ass of the boys being held in Criss Angel's Pit of Anal Despair. We zigged and zagged until we found ourselves heading southward on Strecker until we reached Hwy 100. At this time of night, the usually-murderous stretch of 100 was as docile as the doped-up boys in Criss Angel's Pit.

Our sights were set on an exhilarating night-time descent of Woods Road, but before getting ripped on that, we had to stop at the On The Run for some more Talent Juice. We found that the rain we had experienced earlier had most likely been a spot shower, as we were experiencing wonderfully dry pavement. And the only thing to make the night-time descent of Woods even more awesome was being able to pass right by the entrance to Bartizan. Quickly juking onto the bike path, we marched towards the Al Foster Trail where we would see our only gravel for the night, as we would turn up Zombie Road (now known as The Rock Hollow Trail) where I treated all the youngin's to some spooky ghost stories of old Zombie Road urban legends. The (wo)man-train choo-choo'd up the 2 miles of climbing until we pooped out onto Ridge Road, where Gregward had the great suggestion to make a mini-detour up the road for a viewing of Downtown StL from 30 miles away. Unfortunately, we were unable to see through the haze of the night. If onlywe were like The T-800:

Bummed out but not crushed, we mot0red down Pierside, and then onto Kiefer Creek, which was the one fucking road that did not have a less traffic on it at 3AM as opposed to during rush hour. Taking the "easy way" to Big Bend by climbing up New Ballwin instead of Ries Road, we chuggalugged passed Tagg0rt's house and then onto Sulphur Springs, which deposited us right onto the Valley Park river path. This brought us to the one big effort we had to contend with: the "apartment climb" at the base of Marshall Road. ascending that to Big Bend, we went to Old Big Bend/Craig Road, and made the Leffingwell connection to Grants Trail, and yet another QT.

Riding Grant's Trail at 3:30AM may be the best time to do so, as we did not see a single roller blader, recumbent, ElliptiGo, RowBike, Treadmill Bike, or shirtless ski-blader. It was pretty awesome. We found our way around through some neighborhoods, and into Jefferson Barracks Park, for a little connection to the new trail that goes behind the other pit of despair. This left us to wo-man-train up South Broadway (where we were unfortunate enough to pass by a recumbent after all) to the arch, for a vague, cloudy sunrise:

What does accomplishment taste like, Jerkward?

The end was in sight. By this time, some of our t'aint-al regions were feeling as though someone had given us the "minivan:"
But fear not, for we departed once again to pass by the "other" casino, where we had some encouragement from below:
Note the preferred pavement tire of Nico: 35c Panaracer T-Servs.

Our spirits were clinging to life, though our bodies were crawling into their metaphorical pajamas. Meanwhile, someone's baby had crawled out of it's diaper and left it behind:
This diaper had us later wondering if we'll ever find an adult diaper discarded onto the road.

We snaked our way up MLK, through SLUH, were glad to be with friends through the Central West End, and made a small arc through Forest Park, before funneling through the Hwy 40 Tunnel. At this point, we parted ways with Hunter and Kitten Bottoms, and we set our sights finally for a traversing of The Hill, and back into the "arrivals" area of the Crotch Airport.

Our t'aints were very glad to be back in dry clothing, having been marinating all night from the rain we'd gone through. My body felt pretty funny - like 6-finger-kid-in-a-Mi-Ranchito-wall-painting-funny:
Mrs. Crotch knew of this impending weirdness, and did bake us a bunch of delicious breakfast food, eliminating the need for tube meats. It was after this that sleep became a welcome companion, and enveloped my body, starting with the t'aint, like a group of juggalos envelops a van selling meth:
Beer and orange juice on the same table.

I know that the Brothers-Jerk and B-Squared would be jealous of our escapes from up in Seattle, but I can only hope that, even though we aren't keeping very good tabs on his ass, that the Tropical Depression Mason does not revert back to his fruit-booting ways - admittedly being a reformed roller blader.

What a great adventure.

Now, in other news, we have a great announcement to make. We are officially adding Valley Meat Co. of Roswell, NM as an honorary sponsor. Or rather, we would like to honorarily make ourselves an honorary sponsor or supporter of this company. Please read:


We would like to start a process to suggest a site for this new, proposed slaughterhouse. We are thinking somewhere in the vicinity of, or located within, Greensfelder Park. Imagine. An old, less-sure-footed horse snaps his leg somewhere while riding some super-muddy Greensfelder Trails, and is somehow dragged out of the woods. Normally, a broken leg for a horse results in that horse getting shot in its long face. Why not put this horse to good use and feed it into the supply chain for this new business?

Besides, I'm all out of tire glue, and I need to install new tires for this coming CX season.

-Casey F. Ryback