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| Don't spend the night with some man in a van (whether the there is a river involved or not) |
Arva was looking way to fresh to have ridden today |
Preparations are at some point nice, but when Mother Nature decides to turn on you the only thing left to do is find comfort and shelter under the corn seller's tent.
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| Why can't they these guys replace the Bud Bus |
Rain has been a much-needed commodity in the heartland this summer and freshly roasted and/or boiled corn on the cob is a highly desired commodity in the stomachs of Martinis. It may have seemed like a bad way to start the evening, but in there were few complainers. There were also few complaints coming from those under the pie and beer tents. By the time the storm had left the town it was prime bar hopping time for the trio. The hateful music truck made its way to one local establishment, where not only were you bombarded with aural garbage, but you can't get chips without a greasy pork
sandwich. A nicer place off the beaten path would be needed and was indeed found. The jukebox, not the DJ will always find a way to give you hours of listening pleasure. The Grateful Dead, not the "I would be grateful if the loser who requested Journey was dead." When you are in the right environment, the right people with naturally navigate towards it. Such is the case with Scott and Shawn of the Team River Ratt. In exchange for towing a bob this year
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| You will only find the good people at bars that don't have a fucking DJ |
they were subjected to the aforementioned rain and the bonus of hail. If it weren't for abandoned houses where would these riders find shelter? Also, where would Cheever find polyester? The night progressed with lively conversation between old and new friends; Jen attempting to obtain enough schwag to choke a horse; one girl looking to make out with many boys; one Ed trying to put holes in walls with his head; and couples using the men's restroom for a quickie.
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| Just proof we were here |
Night falls too quickly during these times of joy and rest must be had, which is why the Martinis found themselves on the River Ratt bus for just one more before bed time. It may have seemed odd, but for some they could not stop hearing a George Harrison song playing all evening. As for pitching a tent at this time of night, that idea was quickly discarded for sleeping in the back of van.
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| No one the list yet...yet |
The windows of the van were covered with the morning dew and something was a moving inside one of it occupants. How the city of Osceola managed to keep those kybos clean until the next day was a testament to how good a host they were. The site of a bagger bike still parked out in front of a bar let the casual passerby know that sticky floor of a saloon is the same as a hotel for some riders. After early morning shot of latte and orange juice at the crafty craft shop the trio was getting ready to end this year's expedition in kiddy-looper fashion when another blast from the
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| Ray wasn't letting whitey suppress him |
recent TeaMartini past appeared: Ray. The year of 2001 had now exceeded the fifty percent mark for inclusion in this year's ride. As with all good things, the end must invariably happen. With Laurie in her SagBug, Rick in the Saturn of Sag and Jen in the Tent-o-Van, the ride for the Martinis concluded.
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