How I Spent My Dirt Burger
Monday, June 22nd, 2009
I arrived home on Saturday evening to my beloved family, suddenly realizing that I had been on some magical journey, roused by my son asking me what the heck I'd been doing in Iowa. I suppose everyone who travels to Iowa gets asked this question upon their return, but my guess is that most of them spent their time sampling Amish churned butter and frolicking in fields of corn as tall as giants.
Let's just say this was not my experience. I attended Dirk Diggler, the first ever bike event of any kind held in the state of Iowa. I wasn't even planning to go until, as if by some miracle, my lovely wife gave me what some fellers refer to as the "green light" late on Friday morning. Luckily, I had shown up for work prepared for this rare occasion, having snuck out to the garage the night before after putting the kids to bed to pack my bike and hobo sack.
After pressuring Phil Raitt into abandoning his job duties and his family to attend this unholy event with me, we were headed south on hwy 52 for Decorah, arriving there at around 4:00. Needless to say our first stop was the Whippy Dip.
We got word that a gathering of cyclists was assembled under a bridge down by the river, so we headed down there to find just that. Next thing I remember was this guy falling down in one particularly slippery patch of mud:
Not long after, Johnny handed me my first cool one:
Thank you Johnny...
Then a chill of tomfoolery fell upon the gang, inspiring us to pose awkwardly whilst showing off our tattoos:
Pie Plow materialized from a cloud of smoke with a big load of something (or was it just a dream?):
I'm not saying there weren't some uncomfortable moments. Just sayin':
These fellers looked lost:
Oh yes, I mustn't forget that we rode our bikes. On trails. Really slow.
Jesse rode the log without falling down:
Dirty Cop Rode the trails and only fell down three times (but sadly not while I was taking photos):
Boy howdy did we have us some fun!
There are many other tales to be told, but alas this is about all I can squeeze out right now, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that no one got killed, although I can't say that they didn't come close. It's like my momma always said, "the sharpest light bulb don't fall far from the shed."
I never did know what momma meant when she said that.