Liverdance 3, Part Two

If you haven't read Part One yet, go here.

When I picked C-Note up, he had a couple of snide remarks about our method of transportation to Boise.
"I thought your Subaru was a little rough around the edges, but this, it gonna make it?"
That was comment one about Captain E's 1984 Toyota Camry. Rough is an understatement, admittedly. The windshield really does need to be replaced, but most of the cracks are on the passenger side. We have to be careful when loading the trunk, avoiding the hole on the side. That hole is comparable in size and shape to the hole in the muffler, giving the car a "throaty growl". Oh, and it's got over 300,000 miles.
His concerns were unfounded. The car ran great, delivering around 30 miles per gallon for the duration of the trip. It was no problem to maintain 75-80 miles an hour.
The second snarky comment was in reference to the studded snow tires. Now, one of the reasons we headed SOUTH was to get a brief respite from our 5-month winter, if only for a day. That seemed to be a good plan, and I was almost giddy anticipating sun, 50 degree temps, and maybe even see a little green grass.
Twenty miles from Boise we hit snow. Wait, snow is usually light, airy, fluffy- even when it's a bit wet. This was borderline freezing rain, and a lot of it. Within seconds visibility dropped to about a hundred feet and what we could see of the road was glossy, shiny ice. Trying to pass a semi led the car into two inches of cake frosting. As good as the tires are, they were just not big enough and the car just not heavy enough to keep headed in a straight line. With mere miles to go, and text messages from Charlie telling us to hurry or we'll miss last call, we struggled through cascading ice from truck tires and rapidly diminishing visibility to make it in town at 1:35 AM.
Rounding the corner, we see a shadowy figure standing next to a shiny fixed gear. Three items stand out: Tall cans of Budweiser. Yep, this is the right spot.
A quick illegal u-turn followed by terse greetings and opening cans of beer lead to bikes quickly getting assembled to make last call.
At the Neurolux we finally get a chance to talk (yell), C-Note gets to formally meet Charlie and we take advantage of the remaining twenty minutes to pound a couple shots of Maker's Mark and drink a pitcher of PBR. I'm relaxed!
The bar closes, and we head back to the apartment.

Later, Race Day!


Singletrack Mind said...

"but most of the cracks are on the passenger side"

What DNA is failing to mention is that there is a convergence of the relative dearth of cracks right in the field of view on the drivers side, which when struck by afternoon sunlight, produces a prismatic effect focused right in the driver's eyes.

That being said, I take back all snide remarks as El Tigre got us there and back with a minimum of fuss and a minimum of petrol.

And... Ninja + TallBoy = Coming through in the clutch. Slamming beers and then racing through a city I've never been to in the middle of the night to get to a bar to make last call set the tone nicely for the rest of the trip.

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