"My advice would be to ransack the shit out of that shit." That was the last advice I received before Joe and I left Sacramento for the first time on the way down to Merced to race Merco. In another demonstration of the flexibility of our language, "shit" here refers to the pantry of our host house, while "shit" refers to all the food in that pantry.
I was sad to leave our host house, filled as my bedroom was with Bionicles. Luckily for me, our hosts in Merced were enthusiasts of decorative figurines, too! In the reading room, they had a number of totems:
And I couldn't forget their impressive collection of mirthfully-laughing-mothers-of-large-litters-of-children:
And lastly, my favorite of their miniatures. Guess which is the real thing:
(Nissan 350z: PRO!)
(Nissan 350z model--with spoiler! Double PRO!)But enough about decorative figurines (for now). We didn't come for the decorative figurines; we came to RACE! With a team car and everything! Unfortunately, some teams have bigger budgets than us. For instance, Rabobank didn't just bring a team car, they brought a team building!
(I'ma need to make a withdrawal.)
(Their team car was slightly less [more?] intimidating.)It was a tough weekend, and we had some bad luck with Cody breaking his elbow in the crit (heal up you fast mafa!). The 8:00 start wound up being just the way Joe described it, but it was good to stretch the legs at something bigger than a local TT ahead of team camp and Sandy Mass in two weeks. Here is some photographic evidence that I raced my bike.
(I'm winning! I'm winning!)Now I'm back in Sacramento for a few days until a Sprinter van rolls into town, bundles me into the back and delivers my arse from temptation, I mean to Agoura Hills.
