After “Party”

Late start from Charlotte to the hills.  Long-ish ride with stops for photos.  That left me pressed for time to get to The Hub before they closed.  Honestly, I couldn’t remember when they closed but I hurried anyway.

I had to settle for mountain photos on the go while I drove there.

It’s a relatively short drive to “civilization” from Dupont, but when I pulled up to The Hub they were closed.  Shit.  Where would I get my post ride beer?  You know, aside from sitting in a convenience store parking lot with a can of swill in a paper bag.  Since the start/finish for the Pisgah Monster Cross was only a few minutes away (and a really long race), I figured that there was a chance of some people still hanging around.

I was right.

Lowcountry Joel has ALL THE BURRITOS!

The usual suspects were still there hanging around, including Shanna, who was taking selfies with others…

After riding by myself for hours, I was happy to find some bike people to hang out with.  The plan was to shoot the shit for a little while, grab some food to go in town somewhere, and hit the road back to Charlotte.  That is, until I got invited to the Faster Mustache after party at the campsite up the road.

I tried to talk my way out of it.

“I should really to get back to Charlotte.  I have to get up early to do a road ride before I waste away watching football all day” I said.

But Zac dropped some wisdom on me, “What you really need to ask yourself is what would make the best story on the Internet.”

Hmmm.  He was right I suppose.  I’ve already talked way too much about road riding, and hanging out with the Charlotte crew in the hills sounded like a better time (although I’m a shitty storyteller.)  They all headed to camp and I headed to the store to stock up on beer.  I eventually returned to the campsite, where I immediately found Dicky making it rain.

That’s money in his hand.  I promise.

It was your typical campsite/party.  A fire was made, and Nick “Dip n Spray” was roasting his shoes.

You know, because Zac was holding all the wieners.

The conversations were odd and all over the place, but shit didn’t get too weird.  Well, I guess it was weird that I ended up with a picture of Dicky’s foot.

And Zac went from teasing Nick with his wiener to roasting his own ass in the fire.

At least it was a good fire.

I eventually decided to call it a night, especially since there were only a couple of us still awake.  I barely drank any of the beer I brought, so Dicky might still be wondering why his cooler was so damn heavy.  I hit the road and made the long trip back to Charlotte in the dark.  I got home pretty late so no road ride the next day.

Screw it.  I had way more fun riding by myself and hanging out with “normal” people afterwards.

Zac was right.