In some places they cockfight. In Perris, they race pigs* instead. Who doesn't love a pig race?
Joey and Destry rock out on the fake Dumbo ride.
I was sheepish to ride the high-speed bullet train, but Ryder was A-O-K with it.
Speaking of sheepish, this poor guy was a bit out of step. That's what I liked about him.*
Who doesn't love a fun house?
"Am I tall enough for the fun house?" asks Ryder.
"Yeah, I'm tall enough! I'm tall enough! Psst. Destry, you might want to stand on your tippy-toes"
Although slow for a kid who has already ridden Thunder Mountain and the Matterhorn, Ryder found great joy in the spinning platform. Joey**, on the other hand, managed to sprain his ankle stepping from platform to platform.
He sprained it so bad that Destry and Ryder had to help him down the stairs of the fun house. This time Meredith was along for the ride, so I didn't have to call her to explain the ankle injury. While we're on the subject of Big Hair, apparently she didn't get the memo when she dressed Destry in a navy blue sweatshirt.
On Sunday there was a cross race in Palos Verdes so I drove alone to the race instead of car-pooling with Christie, Steve, and/or John Rubic. I don’t really hate the earth. I just needed some alone time. Sorry earth.
As it turns out, I needed some alone time on the way home too because I got freaking pummeled in the race. As I was getting pummeled I also managed to weave my rear derailleur into my spokes compliments of some sticks. Sheer brute force, anger, and some instruction from two spectators helped me bend the mangled component back so I was able to at least finish. Did I mention on the first lap I clipped an edge of a barrier and went down hard enough to twist my front brake hood around? It reminded me of Daffy Duck’s bill after catching shot gun pellets compliments of Elmer Fudd . I actually thought about that in the middle of the race.
There is a silver-lining in this story however. The Palos Verdes CX course is rough and rocky and suites a mountain bike well. Because of the terrain I learned that you can actually ride the piss out of a cyclocross bike as if it were a mountain bike. Turns out, those things can take quite a beating, so I guess I should ride it like a mountain bike and quit pussy-footing around. Better fitness wouldn’t hurt either.
*No sheep or pigs were harmed in the making of this blog.
**No Joeys were harmed in the making of this blog.