Half of a grocery cart, laden with a passenger, being towed behind a bicycle makes a pretty distinctive sound. A grinding, rattling, metallic rumble, sometimes accented with whoops, yelps, shrieks, and cursing.
Like this, basically.
We’d convened on Friday night as planned in Korruption, a fine and choice dive bar in the West Bottoms. It’s in an *awesome* old building and has a really, really pretty tile floor:
It also has a really fab tin ceiling.
Jonesie was so inspired by it as a potential venue that last I knew, he was considering it as a possible spot for a future stationary sprint race. Apparently, they do burlesque shows in there sometimes. I’m going to have to find out when the next one is and go, ’cause there ain’t much better than dancin’ girls, if they’re good and campy and have cute outfits.
Danimal’s chariots were like the Cadillacs of the shopping-cart chariot world.
This one is basically like the Chevy Vega of shopping cart chariots. Not as explosively dreadful as a Pinto, but rather sad and pathetic nonetheless.
Jevon prudently and uncharacteristically be-helmeted, hitches up behind Christi for a wild ride.
These two chowderheads tried to take off while hanging on to the same rope, but it didn’t really work out too well.
Here’s Joel greeting Jones with typical exuberance.
A piratical Danimal brandishes the bopping stick.
F.C. can be observed recovering from plowing smack into Christi’s extremely solid folding bicycle. I’ve never known anyone with such an unbridled disregard for his own personal wellbeing as F.C. This guy will crash headlong into all sorts of inadvisable objects and pop back up, still grinning.
Would you want to tank into this? I thought not!
Corrina’s showing Brian the ropes (hur hur hurrr)
Danimal probably won the most races of anyone, so he’s the theoretical champion. I say theoretical ’cause this event was pretty ad hoc and nobody got it together to keep score or anything, and I didn’t come up with any prizes, ’cause I’m a shitty “promoter.” But Dan & his brother invented this sport, and so he gets major props just for that. And he’s a REALLY good charioteer and driver. I rarely feel like I am going to die when I’m riding behind Dan, and he doesn’t cross up on you, overtake you, or slingshot so much that he knocks your rear end out from under you. As I said, he’s ace at the sport, so he pretty much deserves his theoretical championhood.
As predicted, Melissa took to chariot racing like a duck to water and was equally joyful as driver or charioteer.
There were two minor injuries. The dude who dinged his knee hit the pothole and endo-ed, which is a hazard in the parking lot where we started. After we got run off by the cops we found a much better parking lot where we’ll race again next time.
Anyway.
Jevon’s injured elbow happened for much more colorful reasons. He was riding behind Jones in the chariot, clutching Jonesie’s camera and taking pictures of their career around the track. Jones took a corner a little hot & slingshotted Jevon into a rollover. ‘Cause Jevon wasn’t holding on or really steering, he had no chance of saving himself and rolled ass over teakettle along with the chariot. But he saved the camera AND got his shot.
So, I hope this kind of tells the story of the night of Sweet Chariot Racing. We were disorganized, there was mild drunken mayhem, a visit from a very nice policewoman, lots of chariot racing, and plans for future, better events.
Verrrrry cool!