It was a fast and vicious NPR. Records broken, strong men reduced to tears, badass biker chicks flipping they elbows in the face of the sausage strokers, Wankmeister riding with the strategy of Custer’s Last Stand, and Pillsbury stomping the dicks off of all comers. A few whiners longed for the good ol’ days of Admiralty, where every twenty yards the pack would stop and let the wankers catch back on, but the sick, the twisted, the depraved, and the downright addled loved every minute of it.
So…here’s who did what!
Bucks–after the turn on the last lap he came up to me with his front wheel just behind mine and said, “See, I’m at the front.” “Like fuck you are, dude, you need another five inches. Your girlfriends used to say that, too.” He jumped out of the saddle, put it in drive, and took a monster pull, cranking all the way up the rise after the turnaround. Nice!
PShon–took a way legit pull westbound on lap one. Big ol’ sprinter boy can pull it and bull it. You listening, Big Steve?
Wehrlissimo–flailed and flogged like a madman, as usual. Multiple minions of the SBW persuasion followed Wehrlissimo’s lead, but a couple were downright wankers. Talk to your troops, general!
Prez–flawlessly attired in black and white Castelli tights with little brown spots near his, um…and a lovely white and black Assos jersey with matching white Assos shoe covers, an integrated white LAS helmet, a pretty white iPod earbud cord stylishly draped into his back pocket, all perfectly coordinated with a matching black and white bicycle frame. Major style point deductions for the blue brakeset (yuck!) and the yellow stripe on the water bottle (gauche!). Additional deductions for taking one solitary pull the entire fucking time and still only pulling 3rd place out of his ass in the sprunt.
John Tomlinson–couple of good rages, pulled away but reeled in. No problem, just went again. And again. Bastard. Ouch!
SBW dude–little SBW Hispanic dude laid down some serious smackdown westbound. Ouch! And eastbound. Ouch!
Kristabel–totally shamed all the sausage strokers. On lap 3 after the turn there was a big lump of sausages and a thin hard line of about seven dudes driving at the front. Kristabel was in eighth wheel, jamming it while most of the mansplainers with all that good advice about gears and training and wattage were cowering on her fucking wheel. Then she held wheel towards the front westbound on the rise where it was fierce and nasty and snot-filled and groaning under the sweat and agony of a hundred flailing limbs. Mansplainers in the rear whimpered and sucked their thumbs, imagining all the technical mansplanations they’d compose for her and post on her Strava file, which would be 4mph faster than theirs. Yo, sausages! She NEVER CAME OFF. And she, like, only weighs 30 pounds. Time for another mansplanation? I don’t think so.
Davy Dawg–lit it up on lap one when I told him about the hookers and blow at the turnaround, then big hoss’d it at the end, but rumor has it he settled for second in the sprunt. **NEWSFLASH** This just in!! Davy Dawg actually took the sprunt for first. FedEx tracking #111111111hookers&blow for overnight victory package.
Beammeup Scotty–this Ironfly dog can pull the fucking sled! Lap three up the hill westbound he crushed it, kept it at maximum effort the entire way, nothing left to come around him after he swung over but a bunch of limp, dirty dishrags. Fuck that hurt.
Pratfall–least fit guy in North America, rides his fucking bike twice a year, was not afraid to feel the pain by taking multiple hurtful hits at the front. Why can’t you other wankers take a page out of his playbook? It’s only pain, wanksters!! No shame in flaming, just don’t cower and quiver like a CPOS.
Pillsbury Raging Red Bull Doughboy–Wike slapped out some good stuff on the bike path, exploded with a huge attack on lap one up the hill, and followed with a rocket launch after the turnaround on lap 2. Took 400 people working together and a bus to reel him in. Ouchies! Coiled like a venomous snake, the Doughboy popped Davy Dawg in the sprunt. Like a gentleman stud, he denied winning. **NEWSFLASH** This just in! Eyewitness accounts confirm that Doughboy did NOT, repeat NOT, win the sprunt. Untrustworthy, unreliable, news source will no longer be paid under the table for last-minute finish result information.
Terrible Teddy–Going with the Green Rock Racing look today, he attacked just before the turn on lap one by swinging way out into the right lane, maybe trying to replicate that move of two weeks ago when he did a u-ey in front of a fast moving, pissed off bitch who almost t-boned him. But you know what? AT LEAST HE SAW THE FRONT.
Hockeystick–last lap on the rise after the light at the turnaround made a major suicidal move by following me and Somo in our trademarked “Flail & Blow” getaway gambit. Note to all wankers: He who follows a Wanky attack is doomed to fail! Hockeystick pulled like a champ, blew like a bad light bulb, but gave it his all, and watched as we got caught, compacted, and incinerated by the group. (Note: Them red shoe covers is ’bout plumb wore out, pardner. For $6.95 you might could get a new pair.)
Backpack Eric–usually, ah, the, um, big backpack thing isn’t an indicator of, uh, cycling seriosity. Unless you’re Backpack Eric, who flails and flogs with his 46-pound rock collection and three-piece suit stuffed into a backpack. Very nice attack up the rise on one of the laps.
*Notes from underground
Gooseman down! Manny G. got picked off by a douchebag in an SUV on the way to NPR, and he’s now strapped down at UCLA with a busted elbow, snorting morphine and getting ready to go under the knife on Friday morning. Major suckage, as the boy was going well and bringing the pain the last few editions of NPR. Heal up, buddy! Email Boneyard Yule for tips on how to rehab an elbow (or spine, shoulder, back, leg, jaw, wrist…contact Prez for rehabbing multiple bruisings of the brain…chat up Stern-O for toof replacements).
Dave L. busted up on the Switchbacks! Possible tire failure on the Switchbacks downhill into the fast turn sent Dave off his bike at speed and into the ditch and then into the hospital with a broken hip, broken collarbone, broken ribs, and broken shoulder. You can’t use the word “fortunately” in a case like this, but fortunately he didn’t go into the opposite lane, didn’t have a head injury, and none of his buddies went down with him. Heal up!
G3 in jet coolant phase! In response to my inquiry re: G3’s attendance at Thursday’s NPR, I was advised that this is a “rest week,” hence his absence from the flailfest. The use of this phrase can only mean one thing…he’s training with Elron!! Which means, a la Roadchamp, G$, and others who have enrolled in Elron’s School of Pud Knocks, that G3 will soon be translating his tremendous ability and little orange fuzzy thing into huge RR wins.
Roadchamp post-REMR sighting!! Spied our hero returning from the REMR at 7:59 sharp, looking lean and dapper and fierce and fast, as usual. Oh, Little Town of Painlehem a/k/a San Dimas SR, coming up.