Saturday's ride was otherwise uneventful, and I actually kept it fairly short because I was feeling guilty about my dog not being able to share the weather with me. So I returned back to COMO CYCO headquarters and collected the COMO CYCO dog and GEEC and the three of us headed out to Shooting Star trail which is his absolute favorite place to run. The three of us hadn't walked more than 100 yards down the trail, when I had to stop and re-tie one of my shoes. As I did, I looked up the trail and noticed COMO dog rolling on his back quite vigorously in something alongside the trail. He, like many dogs, is a connoisseur of all things stinky, and commands an unrivaled skill of crouching down and smearing his fur-covered neck and shoulders into whatever steamy pile he deems to possess the most pungent bouquet. Saturday may have marked his crowning achievement. As I yelled to him and he came bounding down the trail toward the GEEC and me, the smell of his new trophy preceeded him in a wave of air bending motion, reminiscent of the aura Pepe le Pew carried around with him in the old Warner Bros. cartoons. His coat was completely matted in a thick green paste from his left ear to mid-body, and stank of greasy, onion-laden raccoon feces. Proud of his accomplishment he tried to jump on us and as we recoiled and attempted to dodge him, he realized this had become a game of tag and he was most certainly "it". At any rate, we carried onward and upon reaching Gans Creek, I stripped down and rinshed him off in the cold water. After the hike, I tossed the now sodden, fetid dog in the back of the car where his stench is still lingering today. We gave him a proper bath and then decided that we needed something to eat so headed down to RagTag on our bikes.
When we reached RagTag we were met with 4 bike racks all completely loaded with an assortment of locked bicycles with no more room for ours. To my eyes, anyway, this is more a blessing than a curse. I will gladly look for alternative places to lock up my bike if it means more people are riding downtown. We parked around the corner and entered through the front door. As we passed by the cluster of locked bikes, I couldn't help but notice a Mountain Bike closest to the door with an unusual decal on it.
Along the top tube was a sticker with the word "POOPDETH" on it. Clearly, this had become the theme of the day, as the GEEC and I had already had one near-POOPDETH experience earlier. Initially, I wondered if this was a new model of Shepard Fairey-decorated Trek Mountain Bike issued to commerate Lance's victory at the Leadville race this year, but I've since learned via Google search, that POOPDETH is the name of a now defunct "metal/jazz group that performed short rock operas complete with actors, props, plots and metaphors" according to the band's website, www.poopdeth.org. Here's a picture of one of the aforementioned actors/props/plots/metaphors performing at Mojo's in 2005.
Sunday's ride was even better than Saturday with warmer temperatures and more sun. As i headed out of town, I came upon a father and daughter riding down the street. I think the Dad has figured out an excellent motorist deterent strategy based on this photo I took of them.
Note the use of the day glo green markings on the tail end of both bikes. Effective, to be sure, but likely NOT as effective as the appropriate rider placement. See how Dad rides in front and all the way over to the right. He then positions his daughter, complete with side view mirror and bright pink coat in the middle of the street and slightly behind him as the decoy. Any passing car would easily clip her first, and leave him free of altercations to be able to chase the offending driver down.
After the ride, I once again, hooked up with the GEEC for a late lunch downtown. After we ate, we noticed some comotion occuring on the north end of 9th street so rode toward it to see what was going on. Low and behold, we had stumbled upon a Holiday parade. I should say that we were guessing it was a holiday parade by the many marching bands passing by wearing santa hats and expressions of disdain. But then we started to wonder if it was in fact a holiday parade or something else entirely when we saw the large "Bring Them Home" banner advancing down the street with a cyclist in front of the banner riding in circles wearing a box. He was yelling loudly "Bring them home! Bring them home!"
Upon closer inspection, the boxed cyclist had the word "Joy" written above his left shoulder.
I've heard of a 'glove-box', 'squeeze-box', and a 'toy-box', but never a Joy Box. So I felt compelled to do a little research to learn what exactly a Joy Box is.
If, like me, you are unaware of what this little number does, you will be interested to know that according to the manufacturer, with this device...
"...now you can store and protect up to three Kingsize cones in this handy Joybox. Great for those still getting their fingers around rolling, and even better for those more experienced who enjoy a smoke while out and about on their travels....The Kingsize Joybox is an incredibly useful item for anyone who has ever suffered the disappointment of a lovingly prepared smoke getting crushed in your pocket or bag. You can also use it to roll your smokes without actually rolling, as you put the coned paper inside the hole, and then simply fill the same hole with your favourite 'legal' [aka your good shit] smoking mix for a perfectly coned smoke. You can make three perfect smokes in half the time it would take you to make just the one."
So with the human Joy Box riding alongside the war protesters, we then figured this must be a hippy parade. But what followed next seemed to contradict that.
Since when did the world's largest fast-food corporation start participating in local parades, be they Holiday or Hippy in origin? Not only did they send two regional managers (both overweight and mulletted no less) to carry the giant golden-arches banner down Broadway - but they also sent the Ronald-Mobile as well.
Two gentlmen wearing Santa hats kept running back and forth from the Ronald-Mobile with hand fulls of small, wrapped items to throw into the crowd. I wasn't lucky enough to catch any, but think they were sample bottles of Lipitor.
As if that weren't enough - they sent Ronald himself, riding in the back of a convertible.
I overheard someone in the crowd saying that with Mayor Hindman not seeking re-election of COMO, Ronald McDonald has decided to throw his hat in the ring for consideration and was using this parade to make the anouncement. We didn't stick around for the stump speech, however, as after his car passed by us, a fezzed Shriner driving a mini-Indy car ran over my foot requiring me to go soak it in some ice for the remainder of the evening.
Upon reaching COMO CYCO headquarters once again, the GEEC and I were met lovingly by the COMO dog, still reeking of POOPDETH. Good or bad, as Forrest tells us, shit happens.
Pedal on!
