Whiskey, Wool Socks, What up up up.

Most days in life don't really stand out.  Most rides tend to blend together in the long review mirror that is memory.  But it's your individual responsibility, I've come to believe, to shake out the monotony every now and again, whatever the consequence.  Even if that consequence is a rum hangover, 2 flats, and a 3/4 pound dangly thigh hematoma.

The good Doctor Dirty Nelly will see you now.

I guess that's why I night ride.

Also, I'll say this: not so long ago this ride was a brownie crit - which was short track racing and brownies.  Now, and remarkably quickly, it has morphed into a hard liquor swilling night ride.  I say you can't fight progress, so don't.  Go with it.

Up, up, up.