Burnin' At The Bluff

Hello loyalistas, connoisseurs and rabid fans of the Team Seagal movement. With your esteemed author and blog Svengali, Crotch, away in the land of coconuts, grass skirts and Maui waui  enjoying the first sips of marital bliss, the task of capturing and relaying to one and all, the vivid ugly truths of this year’s Burnin’ at the Bluff has been passed on to a relative neophyte in the Seagal movement – Mr. C-Dubbs.  I will do my best to convey all that happened and leave it to you, the readers, to determine just where that blurry line of reality ended.

Following standard operating procedures, the wheels at Team Seagal HQ were put into motion long before the race with the plan to deploy an army of warriors who had been starved of meat and women for the better part of a month to ensure maximum carnage on the field. Among those signed up for the operation were defending SS team Nicwad, Leg Titty & Nadly with Sasha she-manning up once again for the full 12 hours of self inflicted pain, the Lawman shamuing once around the clock in the Clydesdale class, while Punchor of Cocks, Scooter and Gino Fellino smartly opted for the opportunity to ride all day and party all night in the 6 hour class. Winging in from the Eastern front I was in a bit of a scramble as Taggort and Schlomo Axel bailed and elected to race in the Sand in My Mangina Classic leaving me hanging like a big booger. Rather then wipe I did the only thing that made any sense (to me that is) and immediately signed up for 12 hours of self-abuse. It sure made a lot of sense – no riding for the past 6 weeks and little in the way of single track riding – maximum suffering. Thank Energor my moment of stupidity was saved by Mrs Titty and Stove who were going through a similar crisis as Josh “Mr Waffles” couldn’t decide if he should shit or get off the pot. A few calls of encouragement from Arm Baby and Toscani and the deal was sealed, Messy Marla and the Missouri Mountain Men would be racing for the rock star award.

 Thursday - Arriving in St. Louis I was warmly greeted by Senor Arm Baby who immediately set about having me translate my supply requirements before setting out to the largest Target I have ever seen where after wandering around in a daze we procured these politically correct taint wipes.

From there it was off to visit one of our esteemed sponsors, The Hub, for the usual supplies the airlines won’t let you carry on and of course one of those lovable little packages of Degree pit stick.

 Rolling in the Arm ‘Stro, stops were made at Casa de Titty to procure the necessary supplies to keep us going for the weekend, pickup the ex-Toscani/C-Dubbs St Louis based Kona Big Unit then heading to Nico’s digs for consultation on the impending weather and route to our destination – Mark Twain National Forest. Excited at the prospect of traversing the most dangerous highway in Missouri and witnessing the onslaught of Bathtub Mary’s that line the road providing safe passage I hid my disappointment at the safer Highway 55 passage but was rewarded with the sight of that beautiful blonde pedaling cars for Sparks  (link this blog http://sparkstireandauto.com/blog-2/) . If it hadn’t been for Jayson’s focus on getting to Council Bluff I might very well have had a new used car to go with my new used Big Unit.

Finally rolling into Council Bluff young Edward greeted us with the hammock city having been established (unlike previous years Campground C had been hijacked and we were stuck in the leper colony know as Campground D). Making the best of it the all important bike stand was centrally located and quickly put into action by our top mechanic while C-Dubbs and Nico went in search of wood in to fuel the eternal flame of Camp Seagal and serve up the infamous braquito.

A quick visit to drop off my own brats at Mt Kohler and it was off for the assault on Council Bluff summit, thankfully Nico had made sure I was properly set up with the right hydration system to get me there.

 Eddie showed his potential to become the next Ansel Adams with this beautiful shot of the view and this equally compelling portrait of C-Dubbs and Mr Titty. Soon after arriving back at base there was a scramble for shelter as thunderstorms swept the campground.

 Having survived the night Friday the house of Mt Kohler was pushed to it’s limit Saturday morning after a round of braquitos before we headed out to mark the course. The course offered up some spectacular views, and excellent social log at the top of the second climb and an offering from Energor in honor of Coach’s absence.

Having been so overwhelmed with view from last night we made the trip up the elevator to the bluff where Nico served up Coach summit style.

 A four hour social course marking/ride later we rolled into Camp to find most of the troops, PBR Dave and most importantly Mrs Titty. Unfortunately for Stove, arriving late has it’s drawbacks as Mrs T and I agreed he would get the first lap on race day. As should be expected when the sun went down the IPAs went down as well and the bonfire roared.

 Race day weather was akin to the turd in the punchbowl, rather then sunny and 70 it was cool and cloudy, staying warm in camp while Stove, Jayson and the crew were out working up a sweat on the trails was going to be hard work.

With smoke grenades and Sex Pistols screaming the battle was under way. Immediately I rolled up my sleeves, set about translating the day’s strategy, eating, generally fucking off and having a good time with Mrs T. Leg Titty rolled into camp with the Jerks holding onto a 20 second lead, Gino was manhandling the 6 hour race with Punchor, Scooter and the rest of the crew snapping a few wrists. Nico’s departure into battle meant Stove’s arrival at the camp and yet another jerk to party with until my first lap. Nico was in with close to a minute lead, Punchor was out after hitting the deck, registering a 7.2 on the Richter scale Lawman was crushing laps fueled goji berry brownies and Sasha was deep in the pain cave and not really liking life. Well, as the hands on the clock closed in on 9:00 Nadly, Nicwad and Arm Baby had snapped the wrists of all competition winning with almost a 5 minute lead. Gino was firmly ensconced in the PBR throne of champions with a 6 hour victory and Lawman bagged 2^nd in the Clydesdale division.

Such domination of the podium had the troops in full party mode with Scooter using moves only seen in the dojo as he danced up a storm. Perhaps it should have been referred to as a tornado and apparently the owner of the amazing boots was unimpressed with his dancing skills taking our beloved Scooter to the grass in a full naked choke hold.

The podium showers of PBR were soon replaced by the mother of a storms driving the troops back to base. Somehow Scooter managed to make it into the hammock only to find a swimming pool, showing superior attitude and super state of mind it was right to the Subaru Inn for a solid night of rest before the Sunday Cx race.

As for your author, well it was one tremendous time and I want to say thanks to Team Seagal for showing me yet another tremendous time. See you at Cxmas (one more time Gino)!

There's Something Burnin'

I can assure you that it is neither this

nor this

But it will include this

Sure just like Brett Favre, I have claimed to be retired only to come back to the starting line with a number plate on the bike. But unlike Brett, I have not been unleashing my paws on a busty ESPN correspondent

that trolls the locker rooms of the NFL looking for journalistic action.  No my paws will be all over the icy cold PBR tallboys that will be in plentiful supply at Bunrin’ At The Bluff, the 12 hour classic at the infamous Council Bluff.

Once again I am off to the sordid lands of St Louis, home to a number of interesting tidbits of information and of course Team Seagal where I will be looking to inflict maximum wrist snapping carnage, consume copious amounts of PBR, stuff my pie hole with the infamous braquito and translate as many of the ancient scriptures as one Nico Toscani can throw my direction. Stay tuned for more as C-Dubbs excellent adventure approaches.