TNR Report

The Secretary and the Impaler got very wet on their ride over to the TNR HQ. So wet that they called for the alleycat to be truncated. Considerably. There was one stop, JP for KFC and the rest of us for cash. And then straight to the klubhaus, where the race ended in a six-way tie.

Our early arrival meant that we were able to catch the last quarter of the basketball game while JP enjoyed his supper.





It also meant that we were there when Cousin Thomas stumbled in, still slightly shaken from his far-too-close encounter with an errant taxi cab that occurred just before the appointed meeting time of 9:30 pm. He declared himself to be fine, although he did point to a wound just above his elbow. With recollections of the gaping hole formerly known as Graham's leg still way too fresh in our minds, this did not garner much sympathy.



His front wheel, however, did not fare nearly as well:




Despite our early arrival, we did still manage to keep the conversation going until close. We are a confabulatory bunch. And it's a good thing we enjoy each others company. Our habit of riding it out to the end as a group came in handy for the Impaler, whose tired old eyes were not up to the task of identifying the numbers on his new combination lock. Jonny G, ever the do gooder, was more than happy to help him out.



The tunes were good. Skynyrd welcomed us in, Zeppelin sent us home, and AC/DC kept us happy in the middle. Actually that is not quite right. On the way out, after the hi fi had been turned off, we were serenaded by the old air-guitar playing dude. Only this time he was not so much playing air guitar as singing a horribly out of tune rendition of a Beatles song whose title escapes me. Still, it was a nice way to end the evening.