Dear Sea Otter Classic,
For the first time in many springs I won’t visit you. I think it’s for the best. You and I, we need a break. For, it is a love-hate relationship I share with you. While I’m at your venue, I loathe you. Your fickle weather, your traffic jams, your over-priced food, your out-of-area-code parking, and your threatening timing-chip policy fill me with a disgust matched by no other. But after I’m gone and my body has recovered, my bike fixed, and my wallet restored, I easily forget the turmoil of your springtime event and yearn for my next return. Memory slips away of how you take so much and give so little. Although, because of the visual scars, I’ll not soon forget the poison oak you gave me last spring and the spring before that. Nor will I forget the bronchitis that has followed your chilled winds and icy rainstorms. Or the hours upon hours upon hours upon hours of washing and working on nearly destroyed bicycles from one day to the next. Oh Sea Otter Classic, oh Sea Otter Classic, oh Sea Otter Classic, I am finally free of you.
The Great Sea Otter Classic Storm of 2006, otherwise known as Chain-suck Week.