The final Westside Invite has come and gone. There was one large “Cool Guy” style hill, but no somersault races were to be had. It was a weekend filled with good riding, good weather, good friends, and a couple strip clubs thrown in for good measure.
First off these guys showed up late Friday night. Instead of tracking down the shitshow we headed back to the house and caught up on old times. These guys own the only courier company in Reno, Bootleg Courier and they’re fast as hell.
Saturday we headed to the group ride, but found ourselves at the Triple Nickel first. The Seattle shitshow had arrived and was in full force. After a couple bloody mary’s and some pork sodas we aimed for the park where the main group ride was headed.
Not feeling like riding, we instead detoured to Sassy’s. I’ve been there before on a Saturday night and it was great. 1pm though? Yeck. This was all Corndog’s idea.
Around that time I got a call from the wife. My long awaited new bike had arrived and was sitting in a box waiting for me to unpack. I’ve been in the market for a new road bike and this one fell into my lap. It helped me during the mainrace which netted me a new Thomson Elite seatpost, which replaced the setback that came with the bike. It now fits perfectly, and boy it hauls ass.
New bike in hand I caught up with the re-formed group ride. By the time I arrived at Mt. Tabor, the shitshow was in full effect. From atop the maintenance shed the view was breathtaking. Grass slides, can tossing, bike crashing good times. Those with weak stomachs should not click this link.
By this time the troops needed food, so naturally we ambushed a taco truck. After which we made a move to Matt and Clair’s to watch the hockey game. Refueled, rested, and ready for more we headed to the goldsprints. That place Migration had a cool outdoor area, but man did they hate us. And why not, they had a couple hundred rowdy drunk messengers to deal with. But in all honesty, they were dicks. The goldsprints were awesome though. We made the male finalists take their pants off.
Which of course the crowd loved.
And now it was getting late, which meant most of us were ready to swerve home. One broken collarbone later we made it there – sorry Chad… The next morning we all felt a tad rough, but so it goes. We headed into the bright sunny Sunday morning and headed for the start of the main race.
Ross and I worked together, towing a large group behind us for the majority of the race.
After pushing the pace up and up during the race, we notched it even further into the red a couple blocks from the finish(Rose City Park). It was there that we were handed one final manifest directing us to the top of Rocky Butte. Utterly drained, Ross and I motored up the hill and back down to take 7th and 8th(or so I’ve been told). A couple burgers, some beers, and a rest in the grass were sorely needed. But eventually we headed into Old Town for the awards ceremony, but not before a stop at the Magic Gardens. A fortuitous stop for a couple people I believe.
Finally the night started heading to a close as prizes were handed out for various feats of stupidity and Matt showed off his underpants.
The gift that keeps on giving. And giving.
By this time it was getting old. We were all tired and each made our way to our holes for the night. The next morning at polo the majority of the Seattle shitshow had already headed north. Polo happened and some guys won some belts or something. I went home and fell asleep. The last Westside was amazing.
Fireball!
Picture from 