Rumpus or Ruckus? And what of Darius Rucker from Hootie and the Blowfish? Still Alive or What?

Heads up Vet 2 40-49 Novice Mountain Bikers You just got served at the Big Ring Rumpus!

(You may now resume handing me my ass on a weekly basis.)

Wow, what a crazy day! Where to begin? OK we'll start at the start.

Dave rolls over about 7:00am, we load up, and Team Hyphenated Last Name heads off to the Big Ring Rumpus up in New Hampshire.

Ride: The Boxy Car

Weather: Primo

Bikes: Ready

Spirits: High

Highway Speed: Evidently excessive as we are no sooner pulling onto the highway as we are pulled over with sirens and lights full-on. Dave and I look at each other as if to say "Wha?" I had a bad feeling on this one. This officer, who must have been 60 years old if a day, walks up to the window and I hear:

"Son, do you know why I'm stoppin you for?"

Dave says," Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hat's real low? Do I look like a mind reader sir, I don't know. Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo'?"

Meanwhile, I'm sittin' there thinking "Oh my god, Dave is a closet gangsta! He doesn't even have a hat on." I mean if it were Glen I could have seen this coming.

Luckily the cop seemed to take it in stride and tells Urban Dave "Well, you was doin' fifty-five in a fifty-fo'. License and registration and step out of the car. Are you carryin' a weapon, I know a lot of you are."

I didn't understand what the officer meant by "a lot of you" but that sounded like profiling to me. I found it hard to believe the State Police were profiling mountain bike racers. I mean what the hell, we had a cross bike on the roof too. Needless to say I calmly suggested, "No worries, Dave, just do it, get a ticket, and we'll be off to the Big Ring Rumpus." Dave seemed to nod in agreement and I felt some short-lived relief as Dave turned back to the patrolman and retorted, "I ain't steppin out of sh#@. All my papers legit." Gulp!

Trooper: "Well do you mind if I look around the car a little bit?"

Dave: "Well, my glove compartments locked so is the trunk in the back and I know my rights so you gonna need a warrant for that."

With this last exchange the officer must have realized that the combination of Dave's street savvy and cop show legal acumen wasn't worth testing and gave us a warning but no ticket. My inner coward subsided as I fully realized that had G-Roll been in the car with us for the last ten minutes things could have taken a turn for the worse. Why? Because you will never convince me Glen doesn't have a story that starts with "So I punched this cop in the face . . . " (And I have to believe he delivers that statement like an afterthought, like there's something more important impending.)

So we drove on, Dave still with no hat, much less one pulled low, and me sorting out my new found fearspect (a non-static mixture of fear and respect) I had developed for Dave. The rest of the trip was uneventful by comparison. Dave drafted his way to second place in the Clydesdales as he explained in the previous race report that I don't know how to link to.

I, on the other hand, worked my ass off at the front for 200 meters then unleashed the winning sprint up the middle from 15.5 miles out. Bike throw not needed but in a sprint you always keep your head in the game until you cross the line.

We decided to get some lunch on the way home and were just chillin at Kentucky Fried Chicken, just mindin' our own business, eatin' food and finger lickin'. In walks this dude lookin' strange and kinda funny. He went up to the counter with a menu and his money. He didn't walk straight, kinda side to side, and he asked this old lady, "Hey, uh, is this Kentucky Fried?" She said "Yes", smiled, and he smiled back, gave a quarter and his order: small fries Big Mac."

"You be illin' ", was all I could manage to whisper under my breath as the dude walked out and was immediately mugged.

Well, that about covers it from the Big Ring Rumpus for 2011. Thanks go out to Maz for an awesome race! And those kids were super cool who were working it!