Saturday afternoon I arrived via the Amtrak in Alpine, Texas and despite an oft’reinforced reputation for tardiness, arrived 5 mins early. I was there collected by Neil who, along with 5other merry minstrels, would be rockin’ out hill-billy style at the famed La Kiva restaurant/bar Saturday night. And so, shoehorned into the back seat of the pick-up truck, Neil Chris, their buddy Matt and myself drove the 80miles to Terlingua. Within a couple of hours of arriving, I was down at La Kiva, hootin’ an’ hollerin’ and stompin’ my feet to some down’n’dirty country music!
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It was there that Sandi shamed me, with one disgusted look, into doing what I knew I really couldn’t miss. I’d been waffling about riding The Stupid Race the following morning; my lame excuses being that I had neither bike, nor helmet, nor shoes. Plus, riding with a Camel-back would be pretty uncomfortable with the back tattoo still healing. But, there really was no good reason to miss the the Stupid Race, except perhaps, for stupidity.
As we are all well aware, there are races for cancer, for heart disease, for MS and for just about every other killer disease, but nothing for the greatest threat to the human species, stupidity. So, as has long been tradition, on the first Sunday of December, folks on bikes meet at the Starlight Cafe at 10:37am ready for some serious racing. Well, no, not quite. This is, after all, the race for stupidity and the winner, invariably, is not the first person to cross the finish line.
Although a mountain-bike race, there have been years when the winner “raced” pushing a wheel-barrow full of beer. Another year, the winner rode on the back of a single-speed tandem. Yet another year, the winner left the house telling his wife he’d be home in an hour only to return more than four hours later. This year’s “victor” was Erica who’s “victory” was assured when she rode off the wooden bridge, driving herself chest first into the ground on the other side. Though no harm done, with over 25 costumed fools looking on, it really was a spectacular bail. Well done Erica! Oh, did I mention costumes?
In keeping with the theme of stupidity, most folks were dressed up for the grand occasion. There was Minnie Mouse, a flying squirrel and a bizarre-looking space ranger. Patrick, our race organiser, was looking pretty in [a] pink mini-skirt and torn stockings. Taking advantage of Sandi’s big ole bag of costumes, I donned a blue wig, red lipstick[to match my plaid knee-high socks], a blue/violet too-too. Add an awkwardly fitting helmet, my sandals and a green Kona Caldera mountain bike kindly loaned to me by Desert Sports and I was ready for the Stupid.
For more than 15 miles and 5hours, the stupid competitors road some beautiful yet challenging desert terrain. At times twisting, turning and narrowly passing by the deadly ocotillos; at times pushing our bikes up soft yet still rocky climbs; at other points, stopping for strategically placed beer coolers, all under blue skies and the warm sun. Yup, mountain-biking just doesn’t get much more entertaining than this; certainly never more stupid!
[oh, and in keeping with the theme of the Stupid Race, I neglected to bring my camera, so will have to wait to find pictures taken by others]