Our pedals were to the metal in hopes of catching Quang before we became lost among the peloton. Luckily, jOhn and I were both out in front of the chase group as we rounded the corner of Laskin Road. Refreshed by Power Bars and energy drinks, a shared determination to hit the tape kept us traveling at an exuberant pace. Leftover fireworks from Month Seven/Day Four addressed the clear sky with the glory of Lance on Tour De France's podium. We dual Armstrongs strived for yellow jerseys upon reaching the Hilltop milepost.Los alter egos of Quang, Malice Stooper, began the time trial with passages from a gentleman more known for his work on manicured greens than mountainous countryside. "Eighteen" (the number of Lighthouse Lagers I felt like guzzling along the Hill-y terrain), "Is It My Body?" (that spasmed into ten speeds of convulsion), "Caught In A Dream" (of eating a generous loaf of crusty bread dipped into an expensive glass de bubbly) and "Schools Out" (couldn't find the flag to wrap myself in, for it had been taken by a miffed Frenchie sweating mustard) coursed their way through the sprint like stationary biker Candice Bergen in a long-distance advert. Humor, not usually found on two wheels, leaked its way out of an inner tube. Here's a chain for you to link: ties required for club entry, jumper cables, "Don't start anything." I was rather amused by this non-musical vocalization, but former Tour champ Greg LeMond (his back turned to Quang whilst playing paper football with some grommet in a Good Riddance T-shirt) strongly objected to the car humor (supposedly, he's secretary of his local Critical Mass chapter). No matter...he's filled with hot air anyhow.
Near stage's end, the biker gang who derived its name from a '70s cycling club in Saigon inquired about intervals and gave this stranded "Sex Kitten" a ride on the handlebars. "Big bust, rubber-red teddy, leopard-print breast, lots of makeup, high heels/Lookin' for a conquest..." - Hey, every road warrior needs a navigator at times. "Don't Think So Deeply" ("...Don't go so far/Let your mind cloud over and think happy thoughts") took our minds off the combative nature of the event, as I scoured the 'Top for some draft helium. "Janitor" swept the generalizations and broken glass off the concrete slabs, ably assisted by its co-chairwoman. "No, You Don't" was a Sweet dedication to yours truly, which made me blush in the color of my frame paint. "Tie Your Mother Down" befitted Queens Elizabeth and Freddie. Despite his automobile surname, Mr. Mercury had been a strong advocate of emissions-free transport (see, "Bicycle Race"). A foregone conclusion at the finish, my friends...Quang T were the champions.
Though wobbly from the trek, jOhn and I (AKA - "The Jailer Man" and "Sailor Sam") prepared our search for another band. This time, it would be on the run. Hope the county judge won't hold a grudge...
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