that i should tell you a story. its a story of pain, preservence, triumph over the hated powertap, and hope for the future. its the story of the crash. its a story of good friends and good times.
the time was last sunday morning, the place was dupont. we met at coaches house (i love calling thad coach because he does almost nothing for me in the way of coaching, he's just a good dude to me. i don't mind, getting coached isn't much fun- ive been there. i prefer that he uses his time with people who care about that stuff.) anyways, we met a coaches house at the early hour of 10 am. i didnt like this because i didnt get to sleep much the night before. i wasnt hungover though, which was good. i have a roommate with a thirst, we'll leave it at that. so we eat waffles and bacon and everything else that is good and then we put on our tights and go prance around in the woods together. i was wearing white because im a virgin, and wes d was wearing black because he is not. at least i would assume not because of his kid, but you never know.... anyhow, we're prancing, spanking each other and such all over the mtns having a grand ol time riding our pedal scooters on a cool mtn day. towards the end of the ride, after wes's "shortcut" that put us right back where we'd just came from, we end up having to ride down the paved road to the next trail. im cool with this because im a roadie and id just put a fresh coat of oil on my shaven legs in an attempt to be cool like the horse tamer. did i mention the white suit. yes i was beautiful, like a mexican jesus or maybe a golden buddha. anywo, we're bombing down this road, shralping the gnar fully aero tucked-like, when chris bennett decides its time for him to feed off me. he heads on over to my airspace and gently places his hand firmly on my buttocks in a sort of nongay manpat. then his handlebar gets caught in my jersey at 35 mph and he goes down like a hooker in a dirty public restroom. boom! i got catapulted over the bars shortly (like a quarter second) afterwards. i hit the ground and exploded all over the road, i swear i was on fire or at least smelled like it. fortunately because i was dressed so splendidly, almost shimmering in my virginal glory, i was unharmed as was my bike. chris however had a few issues, like a fox fork that was now missing its brace and a blowed up elbow. bummer. we called the meatwagon to get chris home and then limped it on back to the house, but not before pointing and laughing at a small child crashing. this is because we are assholes- no way around that.
and the lord spoketh it, and it was pronounced the truth.
amen.
dano out.
p.s.- this pic has nothing to do with this story, hell its not even north carolina. but it is me. ah skeet!!
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