Difference between revisions of "MoRon 10-17-06"

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This Ride has not taken place yet.
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===Pete's Ride Report===
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::{| width="75%" style="margin-bottom:0em; center;border: 10px solid #BFA3B1; background-color:#FFE6F2;" cellspacing=2
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!colspan=3 style="text-align:center; font-size:200%; padding-top:.8em;"| '''Pete's First Ride Report'''
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|style="width:70%; font-size:100%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left; padding-left:1em;"|
  
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I rode hard. It made me feel sick. A suprised buck on the trail almost beat me up.
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|}
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===Mo's Ride Report===
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It appears that fall is upon us.  If it must be, at least it has come with some achingly beautiful days, warm evenings, and a hardcore crew of dastardly mtn bikers who seem to want to go rip up the trails and cause HOHa’s (Hateful Old Hikers) grave consternation.  The Java Hut held Jon, Dana, Pete, Ron, Karen, Russell, Fuzzy, and, at the last possible moment, Mo.  Can’t believe I made it.  Can’t believe I had *help* making it—I figured Karen would be throwing dead armadillos at my car or embarking on some salacious, seedy tale of lust and deception designed to obscure my focus in a last ditch attempt to make me late as payback for all the late fees she has paid over this past year, but no, she helped me.  What an angel she is.  What a heel I am.  You know what the good thing is about tossing dead armadillos?  They have that hard outer shell, though they may be putrid and liquid on the inside, so they keep their form in the air, but upon impact—wahoo! 
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So we went up through Tamarancho and got to the first clearing (there’s a name for it, search me….), and though we had decided to do Solstice via Tamarancho and the newly coined “Shit Barrel”, the MoRon had also secretly decided long before this point that that was not going to happen, so we stopped at this clearing and opened the bar.  Jon the British bar tender brought out super-uber-mini-kegs of beer (I think they call them “cans” in the States?) and some nice yellow cups and we hunkered down right there on the spot.  Some shots were had, nibbles shared, and as we were about to leave, …….LIGHTS…..G*A*S*P*!!  Oh, it’s just mountain bikers.  For a second, it looked like the freakin’ mother ship of all ranger endowed hover-crafts comin’ over that there horizon.  We stopped them to administer candy juice that we had recently discovered had “gone bad” or something—even those die-hards Ron and Pete were making the you-bastard-you’ve-poured-rat-poison-directly-on-my-left-kidney face.  So we gave them some of that, but not before some juvenile psycho-macho dribble exited one of their nubile young pie-holes….
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Dumb-Ass-Fucknit-Guy:  “Oh yeah….well, I’ve been mountain biking since You knew what a bike was….!.....?.....”
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Dana:  “Hmmm, well I guess yer OLD”!
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D-A-Fn-G:  “Oh yeah, well, gee, I’s jus’ kiddin’ n’ shit……”
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How ‘bout a little GRATITUDE you prick?  I am thinking that something like this might have been more appropriate:
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D-A-Fn-G:  “You people walk on water.  How do I get nearer to thee?  To what do I owe this precious gift of your presence?”
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Turns out Ron knows this guy.  Says his name is Dik.  Maybe Ron said DiRk, seems more likely, but I am sticking with Dik.  Yeah, that’s right—you heard it here girls, Mo is sticking with Dik.
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Okay, so we are about to leave *again* and here comes a solo light from the other direction.  Okay, gotta wait for this one and shoot him up as well.  Well, this one was different.  He was O.K.  We gave him a shot and he said “Great!  Thanks!  I’ll wash that (crap) down with this….” And what does he do?  Pulls out his very own Sierra Nevada from his fanny pack.  Okay, that’s it—you’re in.  We don’t know your name, or if you are a drooling child-molester—you’re in.  So we really left this time, Chris the Sierra Nevada guy in tow.  Got mostly around the loop, took B-17 up to the fire road (I could be wrong here about B-17—whatcha gonna do…) and had another little stopsy at the top with a great view of CoCoCo (Contra Costa County)—Vallejo, Benicia, Rodeo, Crockett, etc.  Ron said no, it was Fresno, Scottsdale, Escondido, and Fairbanks.  We just smile and nod at the dear boy. 
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I proudly reported—sounding like a female Carl Sagan—that from this vantage point, it appeared that one could see the oft-cited but little understood star that happens to be closest to us—Alpha Centuri—which can be distinguished by its characteristic sparkling effect which changes from red, to white and back again, due in part to its proximity to the rotating cuff of the intergalactic scallywag…I wont bore you mere mortals with the mathematical calculations which lead me to this knowledge, let’s just say it’s Alpha Centuri and call it good, shall we?
 +
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Well, I don’t know which cat had the balls, but a thin yet bold (no, not that Bold, he was still working on his geography re: Fairbanks and the emotional blowback from it not being where Six Flags Marine World is currently located….) from the dark said
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“Huh.  Looks like it’s moving”
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“Balderdash!” 
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Crap.  It was true.  That star was haulin’.  Here’s the capper though.  I was taking my hits, doin’ okay, then from the other side of the circle-around-Karen’s-tiny-tiny-toy-bike, came Fuzzy with a voice that was some sort of hybrid cross between dripping sarcasm and boyish glee….
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“Hey!  It’s about to Crash into that other star!”
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Jeezus, I thought I’d bring a sour jelly belly (lime, I believe) out of my right nostril.  Damned funny that Fuzzy.
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So, we went Sherwood out and it was a scream!  Boy, Candy Juice, even rotten, makes you ride faster!  I like it!
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Iron Springs and out. 
 +
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Love ya like a leper.
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Thanks for the awesome toast to Tuesday’s, Karen, YOU guys make my Tuesday nights SPECIAL.  (no sarcasm dripped during the writing of that sentence….)
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===Fuzzy's Ride Snippet===
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''COSTCO sales continue to plummet as the TNR snags another longstanding customer.'' 
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Chris: "I'd like to ride with you guys, but I have a little shopping expedition planned."
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Entire group thinks: "WTF? Shopping? That is SO LAME !!"
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Ron: "Where are you shopping?"<br>
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Chris: "Costco"<br>
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Ron: "Don't they close at 9pm?"<br>
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May I suggest the nickname "Costco" for our new recruit?
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---
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:'''FuzzEELexir'''
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:*3 oz Maker’s Mark
 +
:*.5 oz Grand Marnier
 +
:*.5 oz Buttershots
 +
:*Splash of Hazelnut liqueor
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:*1 oz Sherry
 +
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:Fill to 6 oz using vodka or Captain Morgans
 +
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:''Place in flask and shake 1,000 times or go on a mtn bike ride''
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===??'s Ride Report===
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===Pete's Pictures===
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<gallery caption="The Photos">
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Image:Tnr1804.jpg|Java
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Image:Tnr1812.jpg
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Image:Tnr1816.jpg
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Image:Tnr1821.jpg|Mo and her pit crew making sure she is on time.
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Image:Tnr1828.jpg
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Image:Tnr1833.jpg|Stay on the singletrack
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Image:Tnr1844.jpg|Glamour
 +
Image:Tnr1848.jpg
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Image:Tnr1849.jpg
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Image:Tnr1865.jpg
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Image:Tnr1875.jpg|Candy Juice 2.0
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Image:Tnr1877.jpg|Effects of Candy Juice 2.0
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Image:Tnr1881.jpg|Hitchhiker's Guide to Marin
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Image:Tnr1884.jpg|Star Crasher
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Image:Tnr1886.jpg|"Feed me! Feed me!"
 +
Image:Tnr1897.jpg|God.
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Image:Tnr1899.jpg|Dinner is served
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Image:Tnr1903.jpg|Like tipping a stripper
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Image:Tnr1908.jpg|"I wuv woo sooo much!"
 +
</gallery>
  
  
−
[[:image BARF_6102.jpg]]
 
  
  
 
[[Category:MoRon]]
 
[[Category:MoRon]]

Latest revision as of 23:09, 19 October 2006

Pete's Ride Report

Pete's First Ride Report


I rode hard. It made me feel sick. A suprised buck on the trail almost beat me up.

Mo's Ride Report

It appears that fall is upon us. If it must be, at least it has come with some achingly beautiful days, warm evenings, and a hardcore crew of dastardly mtn bikers who seem to want to go rip up the trails and cause HOHa’s (Hateful Old Hikers) grave consternation. The Java Hut held Jon, Dana, Pete, Ron, Karen, Russell, Fuzzy, and, at the last possible moment, Mo. Can’t believe I made it. Can’t believe I had *help* making it—I figured Karen would be throwing dead armadillos at my car or embarking on some salacious, seedy tale of lust and deception designed to obscure my focus in a last ditch attempt to make me late as payback for all the late fees she has paid over this past year, but no, she helped me. What an angel she is. What a heel I am. You know what the good thing is about tossing dead armadillos? They have that hard outer shell, though they may be putrid and liquid on the inside, so they keep their form in the air, but upon impact—wahoo!

So we went up through Tamarancho and got to the first clearing (there’s a name for it, search me….), and though we had decided to do Solstice via Tamarancho and the newly coined “Shit Barrel”, the MoRon had also secretly decided long before this point that that was not going to happen, so we stopped at this clearing and opened the bar. Jon the British bar tender brought out super-uber-mini-kegs of beer (I think they call them “cans” in the States?) and some nice yellow cups and we hunkered down right there on the spot. Some shots were had, nibbles shared, and as we were about to leave, …….LIGHTS…..G*A*S*P*!! Oh, it’s just mountain bikers. For a second, it looked like the freakin’ mother ship of all ranger endowed hover-crafts comin’ over that there horizon. We stopped them to administer candy juice that we had recently discovered had “gone bad” or something—even those die-hards Ron and Pete were making the you-bastard-you’ve-poured-rat-poison-directly-on-my-left-kidney face. So we gave them some of that, but not before some juvenile psycho-macho dribble exited one of their nubile young pie-holes….

Dumb-Ass-Fucknit-Guy: “Oh yeah….well, I’ve been mountain biking since You knew what a bike was….!.....?.....”

Dana: “Hmmm, well I guess yer OLD”!

D-A-Fn-G: “Oh yeah, well, gee, I’s jus’ kiddin’ n’ shit……”

How ‘bout a little GRATITUDE you prick? I am thinking that something like this might have been more appropriate:

D-A-Fn-G: “You people walk on water. How do I get nearer to thee? To what do I owe this precious gift of your presence?”

Turns out Ron knows this guy. Says his name is Dik. Maybe Ron said DiRk, seems more likely, but I am sticking with Dik. Yeah, that’s right—you heard it here girls, Mo is sticking with Dik.

Okay, so we are about to leave *again* and here comes a solo light from the other direction. Okay, gotta wait for this one and shoot him up as well. Well, this one was different. He was O.K. We gave him a shot and he said “Great! Thanks! I’ll wash that (crap) down with this….” And what does he do? Pulls out his very own Sierra Nevada from his fanny pack. Okay, that’s it—you’re in. We don’t know your name, or if you are a drooling child-molester—you’re in. So we really left this time, Chris the Sierra Nevada guy in tow. Got mostly around the loop, took B-17 up to the fire road (I could be wrong here about B-17—whatcha gonna do…) and had another little stopsy at the top with a great view of CoCoCo (Contra Costa County)—Vallejo, Benicia, Rodeo, Crockett, etc. Ron said no, it was Fresno, Scottsdale, Escondido, and Fairbanks. We just smile and nod at the dear boy.

I proudly reported—sounding like a female Carl Sagan—that from this vantage point, it appeared that one could see the oft-cited but little understood star that happens to be closest to us—Alpha Centuri—which can be distinguished by its characteristic sparkling effect which changes from red, to white and back again, due in part to its proximity to the rotating cuff of the intergalactic scallywag…I wont bore you mere mortals with the mathematical calculations which lead me to this knowledge, let’s just say it’s Alpha Centuri and call it good, shall we?

Well, I don’t know which cat had the balls, but a thin yet bold (no, not that Bold, he was still working on his geography re: Fairbanks and the emotional blowback from it not being where Six Flags Marine World is currently located….) from the dark said

“Huh. Looks like it’s moving”

“Balderdash!”

Crap. It was true. That star was haulin’. Here’s the capper though. I was taking my hits, doin’ okay, then from the other side of the circle-around-Karen’s-tiny-tiny-toy-bike, came Fuzzy with a voice that was some sort of hybrid cross between dripping sarcasm and boyish glee….

“Hey! It’s about to Crash into that other star!”

Jeezus, I thought I’d bring a sour jelly belly (lime, I believe) out of my right nostril. Damned funny that Fuzzy.

So, we went Sherwood out and it was a scream! Boy, Candy Juice, even rotten, makes you ride faster! I like it!

Iron Springs and out.

Love ya like a leper. Thanks for the awesome toast to Tuesday’s, Karen, YOU guys make my Tuesday nights SPECIAL. (no sarcasm dripped during the writing of that sentence….)

Fuzzy's Ride Snippet

COSTCO sales continue to plummet as the TNR snags another longstanding customer.

Chris: "I'd like to ride with you guys, but I have a little shopping expedition planned."

Entire group thinks: "WTF? Shopping? That is SO LAME !!"

Ron: "Where are you shopping?"
Chris: "Costco"
Ron: "Don't they close at 9pm?"

May I suggest the nickname "Costco" for our new recruit?

---

FuzzEELexir
  • 3 oz Maker’s Mark
  • .5 oz Grand Marnier
  • .5 oz Buttershots
  • Splash of Hazelnut liqueor
  • 1 oz Sherry
Fill to 6 oz using vodka or Captain Morgans
Place in flask and shake 1,000 times or go on a mtn bike ride

??'s Ride Report

Pete's Pictures

  • The Photos

  • Java

  • Tnr1812.jpg
  • Tnr1816.jpg

  • Mo and her pit crew making sure she is on time.

  • Tnr1828.jpg

  • Stay on the singletrack

  • Glamour

  • Tnr1848.jpg
  • Tnr1849.jpg
  • Tnr1865.jpg

  • Candy Juice 2.0

  • Effects of Candy Juice 2.0

  • Hitchhiker's Guide to Marin

  • Star Crasher

  • "Feed me! Feed me!"

  • God.

  • Dinner is served

  • Like tipping a stripper

  • "I wuv woo sooo much!"

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