S24O, First Weekend In April

Joe and julie and mel and i headed out to the C&Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh for a quick camping trip. joe and julie rode down from frederick (suckers) and mel and i took our corporate jet, and met them in point of rocks. mel and i ate a bunch of ice cream, and then we all headed out.

The ride down was more or less eventlessful, aside from the roving hoards of wankers on walmart wheel’d machines. we arrived at our campsite morally stricken but otherwise unscathed, only to find 5 other people were there before us. bastards!

One couple was our age, and were immediately found to be approachable. a father and son were also present, son being stricken with some sort of stomach bug, henceforthly puking his brains out every five minutes, more or less all over the eating area, much to mel’s chagrin.

It’s 12.25 AM as i write this, so, bear with me.

The other fellow would seem on the surface to be ok: salsa touring bike, bearded, nice. little did we know…. he was a cigar smoking monologue of horribleness who trampled an otherwise almost nice evening under his cheap hiking sneakers of oppression.

This fellow, we’ll call him rick (cause thats his name) said the following phrases, more or less with out end, at least 2953 times thru out the evening: ‘…cause i ride a fixed gear single speed….’ & ‘check this out….’ followed by something you clearly did NOT want to check out, like a tale about the world’s largest vending machine, or a story about a custom van shop. a custom fucking van shop. a custom fucking van shop. let me say that again. a. custom. fucking. van shop. what the fucking fuck?

My next post will be on campfire etiquette.

Dont: smoke a huge cheap cigar.
Dont: endlessly talk about yourself
Dont: interrupt people by jumping up off your log, waving your arms around and saying, loudly, ‘check this out’
Dont: be a D bag.

Well. back to my story.

Within minutes of arriving, rangers showed up and busted the nice couple for possession of some beer and a modicum of pot. just a 500 dollar fine, but, fuck off, rangers. 1 beer and a tiny bit of hash?

They carted off puke’y mc’gee and his dad, leaving us with the couple (good folks) and rick (not good).

We ate in harpers ferry (creepy in many ways) and julie drank 2 pints of river water masquarading as beer. i didnt spell that write but, go piss up your leg. its almost 1 AM.

The morning found rick trying to entice the nice people back to his van to see his ‘tall bike’ which i still think is a euphemism for his stack of BETA cassette 1985 porn stash.

Mel got a flat. joe got a flat. we ate fried chicken and ice cream and life carried on.

Check the flickr stream for more photos, if ya want.

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