Continuing the fine tradition of pressing hams on windows, the RIT Cycling Cadre sped across the dusky New York landscape, running a record 16 deep men and an RIT standard zero women. Before reaching the hotel, we managed a drive-by mooning of the Stevens team, to which they responded by pulling off the road, obviously blinded by the pasty radiance of our bare bottoms.
The next morning promised to be hotter than normal, seeing as at 7 in the morning the weather was "perfect." We set up in the parking lot, but not before Peter made a point of driving around the elementary school parking lot a couple of times in a looping, meandering sort of way that confounded or angered other vehicles figuring out a way to park. He was probably showing off for his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peter, who were kind enough to show up, watch races, cheer for us and bring us food, but most importantly brought us ice for the cooler. We headed off to the team time trial, Jake very, very antsy about not getting to wear the aero helmet. Turns out he didn't need it, seeing as we bounced across the cratered road into a tidy 2nd place.
Getting ready for the road race, we took advantage of seeing the sun for the first time in what felt like several weeks by working on a nice golden brown exterior. I cleaned up my bike and covered my fingers in brake dust, which I used to write " 'SUP" "GUYS?" on my calves like a very friendly triathlete. The road race itself was, like the TTT, bumpy and dirty. Once again the D field had no idea when the race ACTUALLY started after the neutral bit, so we winged it and started racing when it certainly had to have been running. The hills can best be described as a progression of "that wasn't so bad," followed by "really? REALLY?" and finally "OH COME ON!" I fell off the pack in the second lap and pulled a Stevens kid for a ways before hitting a major hole on the moonscape of a course and flatting out. I threw an OK tantrum (I can do better), expelling curse words and deflating and throwing stuff around, to the delight of Jesse, who had suffered a similar flat fate in the C race. I apologize to any families that were around. Meanwhile, on the course:
The next morning promised to be hotter than normal, seeing as at 7 in the morning the weather was "perfect." We set up in the parking lot, but not before Peter made a point of driving around the elementary school parking lot a couple of times in a looping, meandering sort of way that confounded or angered other vehicles figuring out a way to park. He was probably showing off for his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peter, who were kind enough to show up, watch races, cheer for us and bring us food, but most importantly brought us ice for the cooler. We headed off to the team time trial, Jake very, very antsy about not getting to wear the aero helmet. Turns out he didn't need it, seeing as we bounced across the cratered road into a tidy 2nd place.
Getting ready for the road race, we took advantage of seeing the sun for the first time in what felt like several weeks by working on a nice golden brown exterior. I cleaned up my bike and covered my fingers in brake dust, which I used to write " 'SUP" "GUYS?" on my calves like a very friendly triathlete. The road race itself was, like the TTT, bumpy and dirty. Once again the D field had no idea when the race ACTUALLY started after the neutral bit, so we winged it and started racing when it certainly had to have been running. The hills can best be described as a progression of "that wasn't so bad," followed by "really? REALLY?" and finally "OH COME ON!" I fell off the pack in the second lap and pulled a Stevens kid for a ways before hitting a major hole on the moonscape of a course and flatting out. I threw an OK tantrum (I can do better), expelling curse words and deflating and throwing stuff around, to the delight of Jesse, who had suffered a similar flat fate in the C race. I apologize to any families that were around. Meanwhile, on the course:
Jake Yundt at X-Pot: A Play in 1 Act
JAKE: Oh god I lost my water bottle give me yours.
(Teammate hands Jake water bottle; Jake grabs it, drinks from it, hands it back, does not fall)
JAKE: (amazed) I just did that!
(scene)
JAKE: Hey, where's the pace car? Is there a breakaway? There's a breakaway. Joe, is there a breakaway?
JOE K: There's no pacecar, so I guess there is.
JAKE: There's a breakaway! C'mon, we can catch them!
(JAKE shoots off in front, pushing the pace)
JAKE: Hey, does someone else want to pull? We gotta catch that breakaway.
PRINCETON RIDER: No. Why should I do any work?
(Under his breath, JAKE profanes PRINCETON RIDER and probably PRINCETON RIDER'S MOTHER even though there is no need to bring her into this because really what did she ever do to him. The PACK catches up to the breakaway, because no breakaway existed. JAKE falls off the PACK on the hill)
EPILOGUE
JAKE: I went for the breakaway but nobody would come with me!
EVERYONE ELSE: There was no breakaway, you are an idiot.
JAKE: Whoops. Sorry!
(JAKE looks out towards audience with a screwed-up face while a slide whistle plays a silly noise)
FIN
The only other notable mention is a certain teammate who decided he was going to walk up the hill instead of ride his bike, and he deserves all the heckling in the world. Oh, and Chris got first, which is a pretty big deal, I guess, considering he did it with a broken hand so he couldn't do anything cool with the finishing photo.
We spent some more time moving past the golden brown stage and into the pinkish-red stage in the sun before heading off into Boston to see the sights. The sights we saw were Mission Hill, where a woman yelled at Peter for driving too quickly on a street, Qdoba, and the Northeastern Campus. We split up, some going to Penguin, a place which by all accounts is very good, and others packing tightly into Jason's Focus wagon for a grilling party with the Northeastern team. The interscholastic bonding that took place warmed us, although that warmth could also be blamed on the intense red burns we were all sporting. On the drive home, we stopped at a red light and had a very civil conversation with a group of ladies in another car, an historic first for any male RIT student.
Sunday brought, once again, the sun, and the heat, and the burn, and I, once again, was too stupid to apply any suntan lotion to my firm and well-toned body. I netted a prime in the crit and worked to try to block for a Jakeson break on the last lap, but I'm bad at blocking and they were caught, resulting in no RIT kids finishing in points. It was otherwise a very good race. The Intro men continued their points-grabbing from the previous day, with Chris once again pounding his very stylish Schwinn around the course. The C Men did an Exciting Thing by breaking early and staying out, netting bunch of prime points and were only overshadowed by a Princeton guy doing the same thing to them, only alone. Tigers out in front, or something.
By this time we had all developed very silly tan lines (Pat's being by far the worst with a stunning deep burgundy chest), Don found a bug to play with and the port-a-potties were ruined. What the hell do you people eat?
The ride home was the ride home, pockmarked (yes, this is the best word to use) by Jake's insertion of Emilio Esteveze jokes that are neither funny nor clever but very entertaining if you've been dropped on your head multiple times, as most of our team has been. Lo:
Which one of Charlie Sheen's brothers should be checked regularly for lumps? Emilio Breastevez!
Which one of Charlie Sheen's brothers drives a white 15 passenger Ford Club Wagon? Emilio Molestevez!
Which one of Charlie Sheen's brothers did Charlie Sheen sleep with? Emilio Incestevez!
Which one of Charlie Sheen's brothers keeps my teeth pearly white? Emilio Crestevez!
Which one of Charlie Sheen's brothers saw me naked? Emilio Impressedevez!
And so on.
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Not far from the end of our trip, our illustrious captain decided we should display our posteriors for a young girl and her mother. Yo-yoing back and forth with this car, the third time past we preferred to exhibit some modicum of decorum, disappointing the girl who by this time had her cell phone camera out. So we took another run, making her day that much brighter with our celestial bodies. Luckily, nobody was wearing anything that could identify us to the police.
The question then is, where did the pace car go??? I blame UFOs...
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