Posted By:
Booker (205.229.142.218)
Date: Friday October 01 [04:43:03 PM]
Friday September 16, 1999. Fort Worth, Texas
With Washington D.C., the original site, mostly underwater – Event #2 of The Manly Games have been moved here. To the rolling hills of suburban Dallas, Texas. ; )
The next event in the battle over the fate of Andi is the tricycle race, and what a day it is for a race. It’s a typical late summer day in central Texas – damn hot. The mercury is pushing 97 degrees, with out a cloud in sight.
Having arrived early for an extended group hug, the Jambytes are already at the event site. They are all standing at the base of one of Dallas’ FAMOUS hills, looking up at the summit of the incline & trying to decipher exactly how far it is to the top.
JimW: “I’d say that’s about 200 feet.”
Jeff92SE: “No way. You’re nuts, its way farther than that.”
Juggernaut: “Yeh, Jeff92SE’s right, that’s got to be at least a quarter mile.”
Voice from behind: “That’s a good guess. I measured it out last night, its exactly four hundred and twenty seven meters. A hair over a quarter mile.”
The voice is that of Steve Richardson. Yes, the Parts Manager from Courtesy Nissan Parts Department. At Brian W’s request, Steve has agreed to guess MC the event. A thorough man with a keen eye for detail, Steve has already got everything set up. He has coned off the road a mile in each direction, ensuring a traffic-free zone. He has painted a white line from one side of the road to the other – the starting line. There are 10 tiny tricycles lined up on the start line, facing the incline, ready for action. At the crest of the hill are two orange cones. And at the bottom of the decline on the other side is another white line – the finish line.
They are standing in the middle of a sparsely traveled suburban road which rises at approximately 4% for a quarter mile, lands for about 10 feet, and then descends at approximately 5% for another third of a mile. While its no San Francisco “brake pad destroyer”, the hill is quite formidable – especially if one were to attempt to traverse it on a child’s tricycle. And that’s exactly what these fellows are preparing to do. The shoulders of the road drop off into steep, floodwater carrying, ditches. Its clear that one mistake means the end of the race for anyone who ventures too close to the edge.
A moment later, the MaximaMafia arrives. They pull up in a rented Chevy Club Wagon van and begin piling out. Wearing their traditional garb - black t-shirt with the letters “m/m” on the chest, black shorts, socks, shoes, and dark Wayfarer sunglasses.
Having triumphed in Event #1, one would think that the Mafia would be upbeat, however the MaximaMafia do not look amused. This is understandable, considering they not only are without Andi, but now have lost ST to the hands of the Jambytes as well.
The moment they hit the ground, Eben (still gloating from his triumphant limousine exploits) starts in on them.
Eben: “Hey guys, how’d you like your PROOF?”
BryanH: “Yeh, never mind that, smart guy – WHERE’S ST?!”
Eben: “S-who?”
BryanH: “ST!”
Eben: “S…E?”
BryanH: “ST!!”
Eben: “S…G?”
BryanH: “ST!!!”
Eben: “S-………I’m sorry, WHO?”
Chad: “Enough already!”
Eben and the Jambytes break out into riotous laughter. Though already down by one event, it’s the Jambytes who are loose, jovial & yucking it up. Several of the MaximaMafia are sporting black armbands. Eben immediately takes note of this.
Eben (snidely): “What’s wrong fellas? Somebody die?”
Chad: “Yeh,…you!”
Eben: “What? Just calm down.”
Maximamike: “Where’s ST, $#!*-for-brains!?”
Eben: “You know, you’ve got a pretty big mouth for a punk who’s riding around on a mountain bike.”
Woodear: “Never mind that, answer the question. What did you do with ST?”
Keven: “That’s for us to know and for you to find out.”
Steve: “Guys, guys! Can we get this show on the road? I’ve got a brand new shipment of “BAD BOYZ RACING” decals to inventory today.”
Group: “ok, ok”
Shing: “But don’t think that we’ve forgotten about ST!”
Eben just laughs.
Steve: “Alright, here’s the deal. Five guys from each group are going to race. You will start here (points down at the white line). The course is real simple, just straight up this hill, over and down the other side. There’s a finish line at the bottom of the hill on the other side. The first person from either team that crosses that line wins the event for his team. Simple. Any questions.”
Russell (doing his best JasonF impersonation): “Duuuh. You mean that just ONE guy has to make it?”
Steve: “That’s right.”
Russell (continuing the taunt): “Der, ahhhh. You mean that not all five guys have to finish?”
Steve: “Correct.”
The MaximaMafia is clearly getting VERY annoyed.
Russell: “Ummmmm. Just one guy…right?”
Steve: “You’ve got it. We clear?”
Russell holds up his hand.
Steve: “Yes?”
Russell (still as JasonF): “I don’t get it.”
JasonF: “WHY DON’T YOU SHUT UP!”
The Jambytes are ROLLING with laughter. Eben is doubled over, busting a gut. JasonF starts to make a move at Russell but is restrained by Biomax.
Steve: “Ok, who’s going to race?”
Shing: “We’re going to go with Woodear, Biomax, Maximamike, Maximaluva and Jason F.”
Jambo: “Eben, EricL, JimW, Keven and Russell will win this thing. I guarantee that those fat, outta shape nimrods don’t even make it to the top of the hill, let alone over it.”
Maximaluva: “I’ll take that bet #$%hole!”
The two teams separate and huddle into small groups. They appear to be strategizing, with lots of whispering and finger pointing going on. Steve calls them out and the huddles break. The ten men head to their trikes. JasonF has dawned a backpack for some reason. All of the Jambytes are wearing helmets, and looking like they are ready for serious war. Steve instructs them to take every other trike, so that no two members of the same team are next to one another. The tricycles are for children ages 3 to 6, and are dwarfed by the grown men. They sit on the seats and gingerly place their feet on the tiny peddles.
Steve produces a pistol out of his pocket and points it into the air.
Steve: “Take your marks. Get SET. *BANG*
And with that, they’re off! All ten pull away from the line evenly, peddling furiously. All ten are making good progress and they are neck and neck even at the 100 meter mark. 150 meters into the hill, the incline and the heat have begun to take their toll and the pace has nearly halved. Large sweat stains can be seen on all of the participants backs, as the labor in the mid day sun. The tricycle’s front wheel is about eight inches in diameter and it take a full two revolutions on the peddles to generate one revolution of the tire. All ten are panting heavily in the thick Texas air. At six foot two, EricL is at a decided disadvantage and begins to fall off the pace on the far right.
Keven on the far outside left, has his head down and is digging in for all he’s worth. Next to him is JasonF, who is matching his pace. With Keven deep in concentration, JasonF reaches back with one hand, unzips his back pack and pulls out an iron railroad tie. JasonF reaches across and crams the railroad tie into Keven’s front wheel. It catches between the white spokes, and half a revolution later, collides with the fork. The thin spokes are no match for the sturdy iron spike, and they tear out like toothpicks. Keven looks at JasonF, who’s laughing like a hyena & snarls at him. Keven’s handle bars are shaking wildly, its obvious that he cannot control his steed. The trike veers off of the road and into the storm ditch. Keven dives in head first, completely disappearing from view.
JasonF raises his hands in the air and begins celebrating: “HA! One down – four to go!”
JasonF is so caught up in his celebration routine, that he does not notice JimW, who’s creeped up on his right side. JimW reaches into JasonF’s now open back pack and begins fumbling around. He grabs the first thing he can get his hand on. JimW pulls his hand out and begins inspecting the small metal cylinder that he’s grasped. Mace. JimW taps the still elated JasonF on the shoulder. The moment JasonF turns to see what’s happening – JimW lets him have it! JimW maces JasonF squarely in the face. The unsuspecting JasonF is caught eyes and mouth open & takes a direct hit. JasonF screams in agony and jumps off of his tricycle. Rolling around in the middle of the road in pain, he’s clearly out of the running.
Unfortunately, JimW make the same mistake that JasonF did, throwing his hands into the air in victory, begins his celebration prematurely. While his hands are in the air as if he’d just thrown a touchdown pass, Biomax slips in quietly behind him and grabs hold of his tricycle just behind the seat. JimW does not notice. JimW is now pulling Biomax up the hill. Still not realizing what has happened, JimW is laboring heavily under the strain.
JimW: “DAMN! What happened to this thing? It all of a sudden got twice as hard to peddle.”
Biomax is now relaxing, enjoying the free ride. Having pulled himself AND the 180 pound Biomax about 40 feet, JimW has begun panting like a Saint Bernard. His progress has slowed to a crawl. JimW’s thighs are burning from the physical exertion, as he’s barely able to eek out each peddle revolution. Looking over, Eben sees what’s going on.
Eben (to Biomax): “HEY! Let go!”
JimW wheels around and sees the freeloading Biomax grinning at him. Biomax lets go, starts peddling and darts around the drained JimW. JimW puts forth a mighty effort and muscles out another 15 feet. But then realizes that strain of having done twice as much work as the rest of the pack is too much – he has no hope of winning. The frustrated JimW pulls out of the race and lies on the ground sucking wind and rubbing his burning legs. Meanwhile, the freshly rested Biomax has over taken the leaders and is powering towards the top of the hill.
Back on the right side of the road, EricL is catching a second wind and now has Maximaluva in his sights. Hugging the outside, he’s gaining on the weezing Maximaluva. Maximaluva glances over his shoulder and sees him closing in. He responds with a move perfected in his Maxima & swings over tight to the edge of the road, effectively cutting EricL’s path off. EricL is having none of it, he shifts left and gives it his all. A moment later he’s side by side with Maximaluva. Maximaluva balls a fist and takes a swing at EricL, but he’s too far away. His roundhouse punch misses badly. The momentum of the missed punch causes him to temporarily loose his balance and he nearly falls sideways into EricL. Maximaluva attempts to correct his fall, but over compensates and begins teetering the other way, towards the edge of the road. Swinging his arm wildly, he’s tilting toward the ditch, when his left rear wheel comes off the ground. He’s now barely hanging on at the edge of adhesion, with just two of his three wheels on the concrete. EricL seizes the moment.
EricL: “So long, SUCKER!”
With that, EricL sticks out one of his big size 12’s and boots Maximaluva squarely in the ribs. Already off balance, he careens off the road and into the ditch with a thud.
Over half way up the incline now, and the remaining combatants are giving it their best. Biomax is leading the pack, followed closely by Russell. About ten feet behind them is EricL who’s coming on strong, then Eben, followed by Maximamike, then Woodear. As they approach the top of the hill, Eben crosses over a man hole cover in the middle of the street and suddenly screams out “NOW!” A moment later, the manhole slides to one side and Froman pops up. Froman quickly produces a Super Soaker water cannon, which he trains on Maxiamike. Having pumped the water gun up to full force, it is capable of sending a powerful stream of water up to 75 feet, well, Maximamike is less than 3 feet from Froman. Froman lets him have it. The jet of water hits Maximamike directly in the chest so stongly, that it halts his forward progress and sends him hurtling backwards down the hill. By the time the water gun has exhausted its supply, Maximamike is 10 feet from the starting line, exhausted, soaking wet, and out of the race.
Eben is now looking over his shoulder back down the hill at Maximamike, pointing and laughing at him. This too is an unfortunate move. His work complete, Froman has ducked back down inside the manhole. However, he has not replaced the manhole cover, leaving a gaping two foot wide hole in the middle of the road – which Eben is headed directly for.
Eben (still looking backwards & peddling forwards): “HA! HEY MIKEY,….HE LIKES IT! How’d that feel, dumb ass!?”
Eben turn his head just in time to see his front tire plunge into the manhole.
Eben: “AAHHHHHHH!”
Eben jumps off of the tricycle a split second before the entire thing falls into the manhole. Eben is now standing in the middle of the road – with no tricycle. Suddenly he hears a *THUD* come from the bottom of the ladder in the manhole, followed by a screech: “OW!”
Eben leans over and peers into the hole. Froman is laying on the concrete, 13 feet below street level – out cold. There’s a welt developing on his head and the broken tricycle is a few inches away.
Biomax, huffing wildly, has now reached the crest of the hill. He speeds across the landing and starts down the other side. Russell, in hot pursuit, is about 10 feet behind him and Woodear is another five feet behind Russell. Russell crosses the landing at the peak of the hill and starts down the decline section as well. Both he and Biomax can see the cones and white finish line a quarter mile away.
Biomax is 25 and Russell about 15 feet from the summit and both men are peddling wildly. Their tricycles are at redline. Though trying furisouly, they cannot possibly peddle as fast their front wheels want to turn. Both of their legs are pumping incredibly fast and their torsos are swinging from side to side in an effort to keep up with the gravitational effect of riding the trikes downhill. Its no use however, their legs are in effect providing a braking action – the front wheel is simply too small. Its as if they were descending a steep grade in first gear.
Having just reached the summit of the hill, Woodear is watching the other two in wonder. Then, he places both feet on the ground and gives a mighty shove. Woodear then lifts both feet into the air so that he’s seated on the tricycle forming a “V” with his legs. He lets gravity do the rest.
Woodear begins gaining momentum. At the 25 foot mark, he is moving at nearly twice the speed of the other two, who are still pumping away on the peddles, & gaining fast. As Biomax and Russell labor to peddle away, they are SHOCKED when Woodear suddenly goes zooming by in a whoosh.
Russell (shouting at the back of Woodear’s head): “HEY!! That’s cheating! HEY! We’re supposed to be riding these things!”
Woodear pays no attention and continues sailing down the hill towards the finish line – enjoying his free ride. Biomax and Russell quickly follow suit and lift their feet off of the peddles, but its too late. Woodear’s head start has generated far too much forward momentum, they can’t possibly catch up. Woodear is now two thirds of the way down the hill, the wind whisking through his hair, and pulling away fast. The other two are also seated with their legs in a “V”, but are condemned to watching Woodear’s back. A few seconds later, Woodear sails across the finish line. Steve is there to witness the event.
Steve: “THE WINNER!”
The remaining Jambytes are immediately on the scene.
Jambo: “Hey – that’s no fair. You said they were supposed to RIDE them.”
Shing: “No he didn’t – he said the first one across THIS line is the winner – that’s all!”
Steve: “I’m afraid Shing’s right.”
Jambo: “Well this sucks!”
Bill99GXE: “Yeh, sucks BAD!”
Eldridge: “Well, at least we played fair. Remember, a winner never cheats and a cheater never wins.”
Jambo reaches over and belts Eldridge in the chops.
** ** ** **
After two events:
MaximaMafia – 2
Jambytes – 0
** ** ** **
Next event - Tight rope relay w/mandatory Jack Daniels shots
Signed by - theBooker, Master of the dramatic; creator/author/editor-in-cheif of the hit series, "As the BBS Turns". Shing's homie. Maximamike's nemisis. A loving husband. A dedicated father. Worshipped by men, adored by women. Sculpted biceps. An educated midwesterner, moved to Cali in 1989. Determined to run Eben off of the net for good. Secretly favoring the Jambytes. Often seen driving a 96 Pebble Beige 5-spd SE.
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