Disco Toes

I got the call-up from the Springfield Mafia consisting of the East Coast Brawler, Gunga, Skippy, Bracket and Huffy because they wanted to play BoCoMo style at Froze Toes. They arrived, we ate, laughed and went to sleep way too late.

We woke up to this:

What do you expect when you come to a CoMo race called Froze Toes?

Then I witnessed a gruesome sight. The trainer is the ultimate boring activity much like this. What does that make watching someone ride a trainer?

I signed up for my token road race of the year. Got my chip-timing device, which revolutionized my racing experience. My race was much like this. Funny pants, moving my legs to the strange rhythm of a Cat. 5 peloton and anticipating a Tasing or crash. I flatted on the backside and fixed my flat with a frame pump faster than a rider who had flatted with his CO₂. I guess all those years of practice finally came in handy. Then I timetrialed back, which was relaxing, while avoiding the the pileups in the Cat. 5 dance party.

The hero of the day was Fish. By winning the Pro/1/2/3 Froze Toes, he goes down in history and hopefully will grant me an interview.