Brad the Impaler's idea was a good one. It did not, however, come to be realized. We were shut down about 1km into the recon ride for the proposed ITT course on the not quite completed Chief Peguis extension. "Hey, hey, hey! There are chemicals out there," shouted the security guard. "Chemicals?" we asked. He shot right back at us with a new angle: "And people driving around. Like me." His argument was fatuous. He knew it every bit as much as we did. But we obliged him anyway and called off the race.
This made for an earlier than planned arrival at the Impaler's back yard fire pit. That was alright, since it was a beautiful night for a fire. We spent some time debriefing MennoCross. The general consensus was that it was awesome. Especially since the Cricket bagged the win. That we arrived at this conclusion had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he treated us to some Dark Goodness with his winnings. We also spent some significant time analyzing the quirky characteristics of some odd yet charming acquaintances of ours. We neglected to consider what, if anything, might be concluded from the fact that we have such an extended collection of exceedingly odd acquaintances. It is surely just a coincidence. And we learnt that Hummelt Hockey is not dead after all. It has just moved to Mondays.
There were no tunes. And there was nobody there to push us out the door at 1am. So it was a little bit later than usual by the time we got home.
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