Monday, March 16, 2009

DBD #10 in the books...

March is psychologically a tough transitional period for the DEATH & DEVASTATION MEGA-Power Sports Community. The carefully groomed sno-jet race trails are rapidly melting, the full-on ATV season of ruin doesn’t get going for a few weeks until the grass begins to grow, the Harley-Davidson bar rides are several months away, the jet-ski season is a good three months out, and the guyz don’t get to motor in and shoot up the woods for at least five months. Also the fact that this dedicated outdoor community has lost their beloved Neo-Con leader to a liberal “intellectual” environmentalist, combined with the fact that the banks won’t lend them anymore money so they can buy this year’s new MerCruiser 30-ft. Eliminator Daytona Bass Boat with twin MerCruiser 496 Horse power MAG HO big-block V8s, have all collectively had the effect of really amping up frustration, even rage, out there on the roads.

Hence the theme of this DBD Training Report: Elemental angst felt by weighty "slednecks" over the end of the snowmobiling season, coupled with the significant time-gap until rogue ATV missions onto pristine wilderness areas and long bar runs on thunderous Harley Davidson motorcycles manifests into road rage directed at deer herd and local DBD. Deer submit while DBD responds with defiance.

Covert DBD training session #10 (10 of 15) commenced at the relatively late-in-the-day start time of 6:00 a.m. on Sunday, March 15th or 1150 hours out from the start of the Trans-Iowa. The plan was to ride for XXX hours along the beautiful shore of Lake Superior. During the course of these DBD exercises there inevitably develops a series of poignant themes. This work out session was no different as several interesting subject matters came to the fore during our XXX hour effort. They included: a) the ability of XX to exert seemingly unmerciful rigor upon XY even given the fact that XY was suffering from a severe flu like condition. XX’s unrelenting subscription to the attainment of the training goal, while fanatical is at the same time effective; b) the beauty of the spring break up within the context of Lake Superior; c) the ease with which one can ride a bicycle when not confronted with sub-zero wind chills; and d) the predacious violence perpetrated upon the wild life (and potentially to cyclists) when a bunch of hung-over “sled-necks” gather into a convoy of heavily sno-MiG trailered dual-cabbed super-charged trucks and head home from the Northland to the Twin Cities (and beyond) on a warm Sunday afternoon in mid-March.

Not surprisingly, the theme that dominated was the extraordinary violent carnage the trucks did to scores of deer that we saw blasted along the way. XX poetically laments the scene of the numerous deaths on the day after the session as he rode his bike to work, “I saw a deer this morning on my ride into work, on which I felt deep, deep fatigue in my legs. Anyway, this deer and I, our eyes met from a short distance, maybe 15 to 20 feet, we both bowed our heads as if in a silent homage to those that have passed on the Deer's Road to Baghdad, or otherwise known as the "Highway of Death". I will forever downcast my eyes upon meeting with deer in the future. It will serve as my personal commitment to honoring the memories of those lost on the highway dominated by 'slednecks.'"

There were dozens killed along our route, but two were exceptionally gruesome. Suffice to write that these were grim scenes involving freshly killed animals that took direct hits from huge trucks traveling at incredible speeds. Seeing dead deer along the roads are common sights, and both of us are tough men, but these two particular scenes took us aback, causing an uneasy silence. XX and the writer were amazed at how crazy fast the majority of these trucks (with their unwieldy huge snowmobile trailers in-tow) were going. It seemed as though they even increased their erratic speed upon seeing us on the shoulder. At one point a convoy of them passed us so close that we felt like we would be drawn into their wheels. The leader swerved at us and then laid on the horn, scaring the hell out of us. Of course we didn’t take it personal…and yet responded frequently and with gusto the universal symbol of discontent and even automatically toward the conclusion of the ride…We both feel like we are on the right track for the Spring Formal prep…and therefore thank the above community for their contribution to our training.


  1. I was hoping that gasoline, elixir for the sleds, was going to hit 10 dollars a gallon but our brave government stopped that from ocurring. Big trucks with more gas hungry vehicles in tow are once again available to all folks in Amerika.
    Maybe next time.

  2. I am "XX" and was there for all x hours of this ride and I must say that our good man's account of the vicious display put on by the "slednecks" is minimized. It was horrendous and at times quite scary.