Thrills, bills and bellyaches

August 26, 2011

During a recent drive in my Raid-scented Metro, I noticed that my mirror was dangling at an awkward angle, presumably due to being "thwacked" by me and the Old Bastard as I carelessly careened in and out of the garage for exciting expeditions out and about. Speaking of excitement, I have recently come to the realization that instead of being a thrill-neutral entity, I am actually a thrill-avoider. This slightly disappointing realization occurred to me due in part to three events, which I will now address in an anti-thrill-like list:

1) Check out this crazy bicyclist. Yes, even watching Danny MacAskill in action feels a bit too thrilling for this casual cyclist. I received this video link from a non-bicyclist friend, which also shows how locked-out of the current bicycling scene I am.

2) I also viewed a B.A.S.E. jumper in action while drinking a beer and lounging fatly upon a hotel bed in the lovely town of Grand Island. The sight of a flying squirrel-like dude-man in search of thrills made me cringe in fear and avoid the television by staggering unevenly towards the hotel mini-fridge to grab another non-thrill-inducing Boulevard Wheat beer. I gawked in disbelief as a soul-patch-adorned scofflaw philosophized about when not to B.A.S.E. jump. "If a jump is not worth dying for, that's when you should call it quits," he stated. I began shivering, sucking my thumb and called the front desk to demand that they move me down to the ground floor, far away from any suggestion of falling.  Although I am ashamed not to have located the actual video footage, here is some slightly less-scary, but more photogenic footage of a more technically minded B.A.S.E. jumper.

3) This grass-hopper

rode on my recently fractured mirror from Grand Island to York, Nebraska. While refueling in York, I noticed two young women with bicycles on a trunk rack. I stared enviously, possibly arousing feelings of caution in these young Wisconis (I was too shy/sober to ask for a photo-op). Back in the Metro I noticed the 'hopper had migrated up onto the windshield

and possibly performed some type of insectoid B.A.S.E jump (in any case, my hitchhiking buddy had disappeared a few miles further) .

4) I went to visit a former college professor. Although being around 60 or so, this role model of mine had recently finished a 16 day rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. I nearly fell over backwards off the chair I was leaning back on. High waters had caused the Colorado to rise to such levels that the water near Yuma must have been more massive than most creeks in the less adventurous state of Nebraska! I wanted to cower behind my chair as he described an eruption of water known as a "haystack," with impressive amounts of "lateral force." My recent interactions with water had involved swimming across the hotel pool at the Grand Island Holiday Inn Express (where guests may enjoy free beer and wine during the 5-7 pm happy hour, which prevented me from doing my planned running exercises after work). The most extreme "lateral force" I had encountered was the enjoyably relaxing jets in the hot tub on my slightly sore knee.

In other news, here's what some people are riding to the bar these days.

Stone Mountain II, baby!  Rocky Top, suck on this!

I did not attend the Corporate Cycling Challenge event this year, although I did plan on it for awhile. I often imagine people asking me, "Why do you participate in one or more charity bicycle rides per year on average?" My response would be thusly, "Because of the wee ones! (yelling italicized words and then bursting into Groundskeeper Willie-like tears). By "wee ones" I don't mean children, I mean the wee folks, will-o-the-wisps, hobs, etc. which dwell in the tangly forests of yore. Yes, I occasional feel as if I am being messaged and/or messaged by the wee ones who guide me and link me to the supernatural powers to which my forebears were attuned via a heightened state of awareness created by a lack of modern distractions such as television, corporations and computer-aided-drafting.

Although I feel a barely detectable amount of sadness at missing the CCC, I do plan on attending an event I've been made aware of known as the "Nacho Ride" in the vicinity of the exciting town of Lincoln, Nebraska. For all you Cornhusker fans out there, this ride may include one or fewer actual Nebraska Cornhusker footballers (aka, northern North American futbol, con accento, tilda, upside-downo exclamacion marcos y itacizo por favor, tu cabron!). It takes place every Thursday. So get your cobs ready and head out for some cheesy fun in the slightly cooler late summer weather before you get all crazy with your Labor Day camping expedition! (And watch out for any lurking thrills....)