we have a friend who speaks of a far off distant land called portland. he regaled us with stories of strange lawless people there who engage in underground, illicit 'cross races. he would tell us in hushed tones about how everyone is secretly notified of the gathering place - mere hours before the questionable and possibly objectionable activity is to take place. and of how they all ride off to the unknown race location; to blatantly trespass and race their bikes at dusk. it was like the hash house harriers of cyclocross. only there was no flour marking a trail. maybe just a flag and some orange paint if you were lucky.
we got the email around noon with the meeting place. aliases and alibis were encouraged. i was on the fence about whether to race or just take pictures. because really, who doesn't want to document blatant lawlessness? but also, i kept thinking that one of us should remain law-abiding citizens. i pictured calling our son from the precinct: hey henry, mommy & daddy are in jail, can you put the girls to bed? we're gonna be a while. although it did occur to me that a mugshot would make an awesome avatar. i might have decided to document the alleged lawlessness as well as participate in it.
i can't really tell you where we were. or what exactly we were doing, cause then - well, you know the drill - i'd have to kill you. but we may have been trespassing at an undisclosed location as we raced our bikes at dusk, in blatant view of the soccer moms. there may have been an ass-kicking mandatory run up that by the 4th lap most were walking up. there might have been a death-defying field of walnuts that we had to ride through. there may have been some swigging of some bourbon from a birdy flask. there might have been some cheating and course cutting which is actually the only legal thing about the race and totally encouraged.
but i wouldn't know about any of those things. i wasn't there. and you didn't hear this from me.