Metric thanksgiving.
Established some 1578.

Strategically, intentionally and crucially located in October.

Evidentially and mostly before our junk freezes.
That’s the rationale we’d prefer.

A day of justifiable excess and waist.
Second helpings and I couldn’t help myselves.
I shouldn’t have.
You really shouldn’t.

A giving of thanks.
For those of me with things to be thankful for.
A time for quiet reflection.
Reflection littered with self doubt and regret for those without.
This too shall pass.

The more horti of the culturist types have (by now) stripped the dirt of it’s fruit.

What hasn’t found temporary intestinal refuge or otherwise been disposed of, the rest, the remainder, will hit the southbound rails.
About time for the fourth Thursday in November.

Dear Pants.
Unable to consume this fowl.
Enjoy my peas please.
With Regards,
Hat.

Speaking of leftovers.

One last video posted over at SSWC09.

And that pretty much sums it up.
For me and you.  Best Race Ever.

Best Race Ever.  For you and me.
A fractional reprieve from the previous suffering endured in the Centennial State.

Today, in Dickydom, our hero ponders his continued ‘circular’ circumvention and relative obscurity.

Optimistically operating under the eternal assumption that perhaps;

her email isn’t mailing, his ringer isn’t ringing and their post wasn’t posted.

Despite the continual Dirt Rag dismissal…the boy maintains his faith.

And a plastic man-doll to prop it up with.

Together they contrive the interview that wasn’t.
The way it would have been.

Striking and direct.
Moots.  FTW!

The undeniable answer to this particular fictional question appeared only this morning on TFLN.

Predictably, 720, is Colorado.
But we already knew that.

If nothing more.
Any press.
Is press.

Dear Moots.
Olde school fan.
Do you STILL offer a frame in the size,
FAST?
With Regards,
Dickypointed.

Spanking of Colorado;

BreckEpic 2010
CONFIRMED.

It doesn’t matter what you thought…

Breathless in Breckenridge (v2).
Details later.

diSSent (Fe).
Building the list out to January…

Some might say that Thursday began late Wednesday.

Arguably, Thursday ne’er came at all.
Lost in the swirl that was Interbike, CrossVegas and the Rapha Party.

Of course Thursday was not the only thing lost that day.
That night.
The night that wasn’t.

Justin of Princeton Tec is no longer on my LIST.
ANY of my lists.

• He was removed from the ‘friend‘ list at SSWC 09 because he smells of ass.  His whole-ass-smelled’ness made the Econolodge smell.  Worse.
• He was added to the ‘people I would probably kill if I found out I was terminal‘ list when I overheard…”Karen?  Oh, we better wait then.  I thought you said Peter was still in line“.
• He was deleted as an entity altogether when he failed to show for my last night in town.  Excuse: “my phone is dying“.

RIP whatsyourname.  While you’re there, say hi to your phone.

Mike of Trans-Sylvania Epic has been put on probation.

• Despite prying him with libations at the near-dry Cross venue (by dry I mean long lines and no outside sources), introducing (and touting) he and his event to the copious and influential Psyclomaniacs in attendance and sharing a cab away from the soccer pitch of sobriety…Mike simply tucked and rolled as the cab putted past his Las Lodging.
• That’s his second strike.
• The first was forcing me to carry him (broke back and all) up the pass on day 5 (of the Breck) only for him and his squishiness to leave me on the dissent.

Either way, at 03:35 pst September 24, the journey back to the Court of Dingle began.

This note was necessary to inform/remind/warn my room-mate (as in chum, NOT in the Wild Kingdom sense, not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just, he’s kinda gross) of the impending departure.

Today is a big assed shipping day.
Catching up on orders placed in the last week.

Today is a big assed prep day.
Building and rebuilding in preparation for the final 8 HOUR.

So far…3rd in SPRING, 2nd in SUMMER, do I smell VICTORY for the Head Psycle in the OVERALL?

After crushing Dicky…ANYTHING is possible.

SKA Brewery played host to the final event for SSWC 2009.

Included in the festivus was the deciding contest for the right to host SSWC 2010.

New Zealand (blue) versus Italy (orange).

Given that Team Italy was stacked with New Zealand backers…the result was a pretty predictable pummeling.
It just so happened to take some 5hrs to life for it all to play out.
Official-like.

The remainder of the evening was dedicated to wholesome Haiku structure sessions and intellectual debates concerning sustainable individualized diversification.

Motel mates, Dirt Rag, were apparently desperate to arrive in Las Vegas to unload the wagon (their early in the A to the M movements about my floor bed made this assumption possible) and rolling out of Durango was moved up to pre 09:00.

Moab bound.

Diversion here, stop there, re-check and re-route…a relatively simple drive became an abysmal fart through a wet chamois of effort.

Early start or not, we arrived  too late to shuttle out for Porcupine so we sought alternatives.

Despite his FAIL the other day, we elected to follow Dicky’s recommendation.

Amasa Back Trail.

Moab photo’s.
Generally so much over done.
Everybody’s got some.

If you don’t.
You probably wouldn’t like it there.

Original’s THERE.

Meh.

Bah.

Pfft.

Next up.

Fruita, CO.
Mary’s Loop, Horsethief Bench…time and leg dependent, maybe more.

MAP.

The return trip for DEMO DAYS has been (slightly) elongated.

It seems that (upon reading the bolded not-so-fine print) check-in and registration at the Sands exhibit hall is required BEFORE hitting Bootleg Canyon (Boulder City).

D’oh.

But mostly whatever.

VICTORY.

Details are sketchy and results skewed (by inappropriate half lap’ers).
But that isn’t the point.
It wasn’t the point.

In case you do care and want to make a point, here’s one now:

STINKER.  CHEAT.

Like so many World’s gone by, characters were first and foremost. 
A FEW HERE.

After the dust settled there was only ONE result that mattered;

NO DNF.

Look.  Rabbits.

Well there is another ONE that matters;

Peter: WIN.
Altitude: FAIL.
Unless you count the Breck Epic.  Then we’re mostly even.

If you want to dig deeper, there is ONE other result that matters;

Peter: WIN.
Rich Dicky Dillen: NOTHING.
And NOTHING is a generous PC terminology for CRUSHED.

Whatever.

Best Course Ever.
Best Finish Ever.

I almost feel for the 2010 organizers.
The bar has been raised.

Maybe lowered.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

IN LATE BREAKING NEWS.  CANADA IS OUT.

Italy is now the front runner.
Decided (officially) tonight.

The really big day.
Following a really big night.

It was a dark and stormy night.

The kind of night that brought out only the staunchest of pre-competitors.

Like everything else to date in Durango…NOTHING is small scale.

While the Italian’s attempted to sway my-opinion by doing a cover of The Misfits…

…educated opinion and preliminary word from the street suggests that Canada, particularly the Isle of Price Edward, is in the lead for 2010.

This particular rendition of (the artist formerly known as) Prince and ‘Kiss’ was so spectacularly awful that there was only one way he could top it, strip to his man fur and crowd surf.

Victory!

New Zealand.  You just plain stank in the lip-sync.
Pity.
Would have loved to go.

The exciting hostial 2010 competition ends post race…final contest…unknown.

Incidentally spotted on exit.

Beauty.