Donkey Puncherelli

Sunday Morning, Dec. 30, 2007.
Time: 9 a.m-ish
Mileage: 40ish

Yes, there actually is a street called Chevy Chase. It's in Glendale. It also sucks. It turns into these crazy hills and I didn't know what the hell I was getting myself into untill it was too late. This ride went all over the damn place. From Glendale, Burbank, and back to I don't even where.

This ride would have been a pain in the ass if it weren't for the awesome company. Everyone is getting into the groove of training for the AIDS Life Cycle ride in June. That's going to be a 500 mile(I think), week long ride in June. Getting used to hills and getting some good mileage is crucial.
We don't want to be in San Francisco and decide this is too much to do.

I think the highlight for me was riding the side streets of Burbank while Ephemera (someone's screen name from the Midnight Ridazz boards) sang the U.S National Anthem. This was no regular anthem, mind you. It was him doing a Norweigan Death Metal version of said song. It was probably the best thing I've heard in a while.

We all got some good eats at India Sweets and Spices towards the end of our ride. A few bucks got you a plate of lentils, veggies, a samosa, some breads, and a curry of your choice. Some folks got the pumpkin-mango curry. That was some good eats! Nothing like a good meal after a good haul.

We were going to end our meal with some tasty vegan ice cream from Scoops but alas, it was closed down for maintenance. We were kind of bummed. An interesting thing happened on the way there, though. While we were maybe a mile away, some lady and her daughter decided to lay on the horn behind us. I guess the other lane wasn't enough for her or maybe she just forgot how to not be an asshole and just go around. The daughter decides to yell "Get the fuck out of the road!" From there, the chase was on. The car caught a red and was quickly swarmed. The daughter rolls up the window while Mark, yelling at his best, states we have full use of the lane according to California Vehicular Code 21000. I pull to the left of the car and stay in the way so that the car can't turn left. Plenty of others are blocking the car from moving forward. I moved so the car could roll out and then the daughter decides to open her mouth and scream, "Fuck you, faggots!" Hooray for 3rd grade insults while YOU'RE DRIVING AWAY.

Biking in L.A. is something else with hooligans like these.



That's me, eating the heck out of the spoke card for the ride. The only thing is, I have yet to develope the enzymes that will allow me to maximize the nutritional value of my new love for laminated food stuffs.



The leader of the pack, Danny (yellow jersey). This was his ride. Carla (green fixed gear) is a trooper and a half. Sunny (Raleigh) bringin' it, as always.



That's Mark (panasonicyouf's on the KHS), Lance (Cannondale), Gary (Bianchi- that bike must weigh 2 pounds-the fastest thing on 2 wheels), Steve-o, dude on a scott, and the other dude on a hybrid is ephemera on the MR boards.



I was busy being last.



Indian nom nom's at India Sweets 'n Spices. Whole lotta yum for not a lotta moneys.

There's a city in there, somewhere.

I woke up a little early today. I had an itch for coffee and fruit that only my local Starbucks could cure. Yeah, I know. I'm still beating myself up for that 6:30 a.m decision to get on my bike, participate in consumer whore-ism, and pedal my self 3 blocks to get my fix. I used to ride my bike to work in the pitch black and come home (sometimes) right before the sun came up. This is a sight I haven't seen in a while.