DBD III : Adventures on THE ROAD to nowhere...
Eki and I embarked on a classic DBD ride on Saturday, 97 miles in tough conditions. [Disclaimer: Dedicated readers may recall that DBD is an acronym for a secret tactical planning force in quasi-collaboration with many high level, mega-classified super important federal agencies that make it their sole business to protect our national security. I am sure that you all understand, therefore, that much of the specific details surrounding these DBD exercises must be suppressed in the name of keeping America SAFE from those that would do it harm; especially those who question our God-given hegemony over the rest of the world.] So given these vital security restrictions the following is an abridged version of events—
Armed with a shot of good coffee, we left my dedicated DBD training partner’s house (Tim Ek) a little pass 6:00 a.m. into darkness, complete with a weird swirling fog…Yet, prior to leaving Eki’s secure compound I could not help but to be impressed by his decision to forgo winter over-boots in favor of a little neoprene toe cup-like thingy. Especially given the fact that I was sporting my new top secret set-up that will insure toasty feet throughout the AH 135. Later as the day progressed and Eki’s feet progressively got colder and colder, he embraced the pain proclaiming, “I deserve the punishment.” Also worthy of note was Eki’s decision to ride on cyclocross tires that are designed for fast conditions on a dry golf course on a sunny fall day in Saint Paul. With at least 70% of the roads ice covered with one 40 mile section being scary for me on my studded front tire and two-inch rear mtb tire, it was a miracle that he was able to keep that bike upright for the whole eight hours. Most of the ride was along a bleak desolate snow, gravel, and sand covered ROAD...seemingly at times-- a Road to nowhere...from which there is no return...(think Cormac McCarthy)
During the course of this bleak epic ride, my partner and I discussed a multitude of manly topics including the flagrant overt acts of desperation by the eunuchs that drive their snow-jet laden bank-owned mega-trucks over the backcountry roads of Northern Minnesota. One guy in particular came by us going at least 100 miles an hour pulling a cart full of toy-colored snowmobiles and purposefully swerved scary close to us…then inexplicably later down the barren gravel road he was parked and working on the sleds. Being a friendly sort, I yelled out, “hey howz it going.” Silence…so it goes. Yet, in contrast on the same road, a guy carrying a huge load of freshly fallen timber gave us ample warning and room, coupled with a Minnesota-nice wave!!!! Of course, Eki and I have been at it long enough to never take any road abuse personal. Itz all part of the game! Perhaps Eki sums up the whole affair best; “What an epic, one of my best ever! Man just think about it, a ride of that magnitude in the winter just for training, cool.”