And the winner(s) are Darin Oar and Angeline (I may or may not have spelled that incorrectly) who stomped on all the competition on a couple of cruiser bikes taking the Mooseknuckler Cup by about five minutes. There advantage? Local knowledge. As Darin put it, we pretty much hit the whole thing through alleyways and side roads. I guess it’s a huge advantage to know where the fuck you are going which is also why I never officially compete and the route isn’t revealed until we are ready to go.
But let’s back this freight train up a bit. The Mooseknuckler Cup Mystery Event (which really meant wear your costume and show up whenever the fuck you want, start times are just a suggestion) was held this past Saturday at 8:24. There were five stops, count ’em five. Two were pretty well known, three required most to search on their smart phones, one was closed, one wasn’t even there anymore and then there was a rub and tug.
As these things go, I was getting ready with plenty of time to make it to the start time, including some time for the possible flat on the way in. This included some bike prep meaning that I moved the flask cage from one bike to the other. And I was ready.
I don’t like to be late and especially not for my own events. As such I arrived about 15 minutes before the start time and Mikey was already there, waiting, jonesing, wig and all. Well, I thought to meself, I guess it won’t be just me riding through the streets of SG tonight. We rode around in circles waiting for the crowds to descend upon us.
Unbeknownst to me, this Saturday was also Homecoming at DSU. This happened to be where it was that we were meeting for the Cup. So as random as it may have seemed to the other people on campus that cyclists were showing up in costumes, they looked just as random to us, in their cocktail dresses and tuxedos.
And then of course there was Mitch.
Who showed up with his lady in tow (her bike is the feature photo above). They were a pair of captains, she with her boat and he with his plane. They were immediately declared the costume contest, that was unannounced until that point, winners.
The rest of the group gathered, well actually, we kept waiting as texts beeped on my phone until about half of us were there. Then those of us who had arrived at the appropriate location transitioned to the parking lot as the “others” were readying their steeds. This included Mustache Contest Winner JD Franz who at the last minute decided to pull his kid trailer and had to assembled and attach.
And then we were off. There was some confusion as to which direction to head as most had no idea where the majority of the stops listed were located. I did my best to lose the group so as to even out the odds of winning. Apparently someone else had the same idea and headed into what someone yelled to be a “trap” and then everyone was off in opposite directions.
Stop one on my loop.
Stop two consisted of the most conspicuous rub and tug in the world. I mean, you’re really going to open a “massage parlor” on SG BLVD? The busiest street in the most conservative city of one of the most conservative states in the nation. Yea, that sounds like a winning idea. Nonetheless, as I peeled around the outside and through the hotel located next to it, there were clearly patrons who just had to have a massage at 8 PM on a Saturday.
Next for me was Eden’s Keep which according to Google had moved to Washington, but if you use a different search engine you can find the original location and where the Gate is located.
From here I started my descent to Dixie High School which I swear has migrated West since I attended there in 2005. I did find the school, but was a little surprised that I couldn’t find a giant sign to signify that I had, granted I only looked for like thirty seconds after all this is a race.
From here, I once again had to pull out my phone to figure out where my last stop was located. Until about three hours prior, I had no idea that there was a place in SG called the Children of Hope Academy. I still don’t know what it is, but I’ve been there.
It was at this point that I started to get concerned as I hadn’t seen or heard from any of the other competitors. As that thought was rolling into my brain, Spenny and Mikey rolled up having nailed everything but Eden’s Keep. They were convinced it was in Washington. I gave them the address and they sped off in search of their last stop. I rolled back toward campus and took a call from JD who also needed said address.
I was contemplating the fact that I had just ridden a big loop around downtown SG wearing a red cape and sporting a flask attached to my bike and how that might have looked to the cars that passed me and that I passed, but before those thoughts could make it to their logical conclusion what appears in my path but a dude in full tuxedo, including bow tie, walking a terrier. WTF? Oh yea, it’s Homecoming.
I roll back to the fountain, no one is there except a girl in a sea foam cocktail dress tuned in tight to her phone. She’s all alone. Oh yea, it’s Homecoming.
Darin and Angeline roll up first providing the proof and story of how they had made it to all the stops completely crushing the competition. The rest of the group begins to appear with stories of turning left, of seeing others going the wrong way and of course their struggles to find Eden’s Keep. As we were waiting for the last of the group to roll back and tell their tales, the firework display that I had planned went off. JD swore that it was just because two of our participants were making love and every time that happens fireworks go off because they are so beautiful, but we all know it was for the Mooseknuckler Cup.
The Mooseknuckler Cup has written in its mission statement that all events must end at a locally owned establishment where folks can get a drink. Darin mentioned some live music at Jazzy’s and the plan was laid. Joey and I headed back through the city pedaling. As we neared Main Street it occurred to me that we needed to rouse some Mooseknucklers from their almost comatose state. We rolled up to the Chacon-Pratt residence and started yelling at their door. Cim was quickly in. Prattipus had to find his shoes, his bike, cut his foot and a 12 year-old unfinished project and then we were off.
There wasn’t quite enough room to get everyone in the photo without standing up and I wasn’t about to stand up so you get disembodied arms and missing folks, but what can you expect. Shelby looks pretty stoked to be there…
We listened and drank and listened and screamed at each other across the table trying to be heard over the drumbeat and screaming coming from the other side of the restaurant. The crowd slowly dispersed and then we rode home.
If you have been following the saga of the Mooseknuckler Cup you will have noticed the blatantly obvious exclusion of its photo. This is due to me completely forgetting it until I was almost to DSU. I vow to get it signed before the next event and to never forget it again, unless I do and then we will have to renew that vow.
Remember if there isn’t cycling culture in SG, it isn’t anyone’s fault but your own.
P. L. and R.
