I am humbled to report that the Church of the Holy Alliance of Mooseknucklers spent this Sabbath on a Sunday at one of our most famous of cathedrals. I speak, of course, of the Goose. A ride that has defined me more than any thing else on two wheels and that by our estimations had been way too fucking long since it had been ridden without being a euphemism.
It was also an important service of worshipping the God that is too great to have a name because one Sir Prattipus rejoined our congregation after an absence in Colorado. If there is anyone who embodies the spirit of the Church of the Holy Alliance of Mooseknucklers, it would be Sir Prattipus. So it was with great thankfulness and rejoicing that the plan was laid before us to ride the Goose on the most glorious of Sabbaths even though it was Sunday.
Through extra-terrestrial communication, it was slowly and somewhat painstakingly determined that we would indeed be engaging in the task of worshipping via our two-wheeled love machines and that the location of said worship would take place in the cathedral aforementioned. Epistles were sent via the interwebs that were given to us by the creator of all things interwebs, albeit they arrived about an hour before this service to end all services was to be held on the Goose. This may or may not have caused grief among the congregation that was unable to re-schedule their lives at 6:30 in the morning.
The sermon was prepared by the Goose and taught to us by the same. It was that all things should be appreciated and greatfulness must always be given to the great creator of the interwebs for allowing us to share things that are of utmost importance. For example, the fact that yours truly had been immortalized wearing pink socks on the sign of our chapel. A photo that had been taken at the beginnings of time by no other than Sir Prattipus the high priest of light manipulation via digital means.
It is but a strange fleeting moment that we will now always remember. I was wearing pink socks and a backpack that was way too big for jumping over cracks. I am also certain that I do still own said pink socks but they have not been worn since this day. There was a time period where I was too poor/humble to buy my own socks. So I was relegated to wearing socks that had been given to me. This happened to occur at the same time that Bryce took a bunch of pictures of me jumping off/over stuff. And for whatever reason, you could say it was destiny, I was always wearing some stupid pair of socks.
For what it’s worth, the God that is too great to have a name, has made it possible for me to now buy my own socks. All of which are black or grey, so you won’t be subjected to any more awesome photos of me wearing horrible socks. Luckily, Bryce has moved on to much better looking subjects and you can find/purchase some kick ass prints here.
Editor’s note: In hopes of not sinning and angering the cycling gods, I received zero compensation for this plug. And to be completely honest, it kind of just happened. It’s not my fault Bryce took a bunch of pictures of me and sold ’em to anyone who would buy ’em. Geez!
Back to our regularly scheduled programming…
Not only was I ecstatic to go to church, the Alliance bike shop was open late the night prior as I desperately tried to fix my steed in time for the morning ride. You know they always say, show up in whatever you have, even if it’s rags. But you always know they are full of shit and everyone will look at you funny when you walk in in hobo shorts and cycling shoes that are worn out.
I’ve never understood why, but this is disgraceful and shows a lack of planning on the part of the worshipper not willing or able to conform to the norms of having a perfectly running rig for church. I also didn’t want to be a liar. The last time my bike had been ridden was in a rainstorm on Little Creek. I had told those with me that there was no way I would be riding my bike until I had completely overhauled it.
And that’s what I did. Fork, shock, bb and drivetrain. All completely disassembled and serviced. This much I can ensure you, my ride wouldn’t have been near as fun without the preparation. There was sand where I didn’t know sand could get.
And then it came to pass, that the Church of the Holy Alliance was overjoyed with the prospects of the ride. We bowed our heads in remembrance of those who were not able to join us in our services (we know who you are and be certain that missionaries from the Church of the Holy Alliance of Mooseknucklers will soon be checking up on you). And verily, verily, it came to pass that we rode our bicycles. We went up rocks. We went down rocks. We turned left and we most certainly turned right, but not as quickly because that’s not our dominant side.
Cimarron was chosen to leave the blood sacrifice. She was chosen because of her dedication and the fact that she had a new bike. We were all thankful for her sacrifice.
And then we sat in the parking lot and enjoyed the sun that was beating down upon us. We spoke of the end times, of the apocalypses and how dog damn good Bryce’s salsa was. Our sacrament was left there under the only partially finished kiosk where the table had been moved to allow for just a little shade.
If you missed our Sunday Services, don’t fret. We will be doing a non-Sabbath day study this coming Saturday. You can get the details here.
P. L. and R.