We were all happy to be done with Old Town and get cruising again. A man on a bike behind me said “There’s 405 let’s just hit the road and never stop!” I asked if he would tow me or if he maybe had some pegs on his bike I could stand on. He and his lady friend both offered to pull me. Naked Bike People are Good People. After that he popped some naked wheelies and though we called him a show boat we loved it just the same. Around then a guy on a skateboard came alongside us and we all talked about how he was doing the same work as we were except he had to do it with only one leg so he went ahead and did some tricks too. I was a little frightened for him, I’ve spent enough time with skateboarders to know how often they actually land a trick. (almost never!)
At one of the side streets some bicycle people were stopping traffic to let us through rather than police officers. A woman got out of her car to confront the guy. “You have to let us through! We have been sitting here for fifteen minutes watching naked people. Enough is enough!” she argued and we laughed and waved. Semi trucks honked long and loud, either as a show of support or in anger at having to wait, we don’t know which. And then, at last the naked throng came into view again.
We had arrived at the end. Nobody got dressed. People just stopped and stood there with their naked and their bikes. Deon and I managed to maneuver to the edge and put our kick stands down. Pabst beer was being passed around and I kept getting hit with the smell of marijuana. I could tell we were amongst feral hippies though I didn‘t actually smell any patchouli. Must have worn off on the ride. One of the warehouse type buildings around us was the location of the after party, a naked dance fest Deon and I decided not to attend. It was already two in the morning, we both had to pee badly and I was starving having only had a granola bar (THANK YOU SOCKS MATE!) since lunch.
So amid protest from those around us we dressed ourselves and I discovered my bra had gone missing from the basket on Deon’s bike along the way. Why someone wanted to steal my fucking bra is beyond me unless some boobless girl saw my sister and thought “Those look exactly the right size, I’m stealing her bra!” but I’m rather annoyed about it. We climbed back on our bikes and rode all the way back where we started so I could drive her home and then drive me home all the way to Corbett.
At Deon’s we unloaded the bikes and checked out the pics on her camera. “This would be a great shot of you if there wasn’t that ginormous fat man in the frame.” Deon lamented.
“you must be joking that‘s what MAKES it an awesome shot” I argued. “Though I’m not loving my nipples on your memory card.” I added.
“I DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT!” our brother (the babysitter) exclaimed, horrified. Deon and I shared a meaningful glance regarding his maturity and inability to handle nudity, wizened after our wild night.
All in all I give a big thumbs up to World Naked Bike Rides and I’ll see you there next year. Course I’m buying a seat pad. And a bell. (and a black bra. But that’s for everyday use.)
June 14, 2009
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