To Grimp and Not to Grimp

Here is your delayed report for the Grimps since the last post. Two Thursdays ago we had a nice showing with a couple more new riders. Brahma Mamma brought along Sandbag’s wife Robin. Also in attendance was Jay, all the way from Greensburg. A month ago he was almost a Grimpeur but missed the official ride by a few minutes and had to ride around with Phallose. I actually would have paid money to see those two together, one pushing hard from the left and the other checking from the right. I’m surprised they both came out of the mountains alive. The group was rounded out by Lord MonkeyButt himself and me, The Flanders Fat Cat.

The ladies started up the mountain a couple a few ticks early while the guys fussed about with their bikes at the bottom. I wanted to go with them, but the new Goldfish/ no one left behind rule kept me behind. Damn those rules and their unintended consequences. The Fat Cat is unaccustomed to the role of ascent bridge man. Hanger on and dropper off are more the job description. Nonetheless, by the spring turn, the catch was made. MonkeyButt and Jay, who is hereby bestowed the name “Greenie” for both obvious and ironic reasons, took off ahead and I stayed back with the ladies. Hey, as King Grimpeur, The Fat Cat is obligated to evaluate the form of new supplicants to the order. I could have taken the summit—really, I swear.

According to Brahma Mamma, Robin doesn’t do much bicycling. She is mostly a runner and helps coach cross country. Usually that sort of stuff doesn’t really translate and these runners are broken to bits by the bike. However, Robin broke the mold and did just fine, never really looking in distress. I’m sure her razor thin build didn’t hurt on the hills. I swear to you, some day we are going to have a “weighted” ride. Every one of you lean machines is gonna hafta tote around 50 or 60 lb weights to match up with The Fat Cat. Where will you be the, huh! Probably still in front of me. Excuse me a minute while I wash this donut down. Ahem, ok, that’s better. Now, as to a name for Robin—Bhrama suggested “steady spaghetti” but I can’t spell spaghetti consistently( shoulda thoughta that before I chose Brahma) and it’s “basghetti down my way, anyway. I think I’ll go with “Runnin’ Razor” or “Razor” for short.

Once we got to the mountain top, we meandered over to Bruceton on Skyline Drive, took Hileman back over to Lake-o-the-Woods (were we sniggered as we passed Sandbag working on a patio) plunged down Wymps Gap and shot across 857 back to Haydentown. Thanks to all the new riders. Y’all come back now, ya hear.

Last Thursday The Birdman showed up. We had an epic ride—to Ruby and Ketchy’s restaurant in our automobiles. Seems Birdman forget his cycling shoes. Oh well, You know the new rule. I couldn’t leave him behind. It was best that I did my Clydesdale training, anyway. Gotta keep that weight up.