First, Fiasco 22 in September: Greetings from your lazy FBC correspondent. First of all, a sudsy thanks to Sol, engineer of Fiasco 22. Defying all geographic laws of cyclo-physics, he proved that to go North, one can indeed go South. In so doing, upped the ante for future rides and casting a bright flood lamp on how lackadaisical I’ve become in planning out routes. NO MORE, I say. So, I put together and actually led Fiasco 23.
Anyway, Fiasco 22 took us down to Belmont, back up to Ravenswood, far west then North to Roger’s park and ultimately the bar Sovereign. Distance-wise, I think the yardstick should now be that the ride should continue about 2 miles after the first people start bitching about it being too long. Bring some beer for fuel and pee on a tree you wimps. I even witnessed what was dubbed “shrub-piddling” demonstrated by several of our venerated female riders. Well done!
Sovereign is a class-A dive. It simply lives up to its name because it rules. **eyes roll and a sigh** It’s got a sweet curving bar and the whole place is narrow in the front and wide in the back, just how you like ‘em. I can’t remember any jukebox, but surely there was one. We made the bartender’s night. One of his friends bade him farewell with a sarcastic “yeah, have fun on your slow night!” Cheap beers flowed and a full moon rose over, well, whatever street that was:
Learning from Sol’s mind-bending directional prowess, I took Fiasco 23 on a South-to-go-North ride as well. We coursed through Hannover Park, south on California and dove through a small riverside park between Addison and Belmont that I’d never seen until several days before. Wooded and dark it’s a trip at night. During the day, I think there’s even a BMX trail tucked in the trees somewhere. Check it out. We snaked northward without incident and about 50 minutes into the ride, my beer-soaked brain lead everyone astray. Mistaking 6200 north for 6900 North, I hung a right and dumped us all out at Sheridan and Hollywood. It’s one of the biggest and busiest intersections in that part of town especially on a Friday Night. While I contemplated my next move to get us out of the fix I’d gotten us in, PJ darted to the front and led everyone on a left turn that gave me a sigh of relief. To the besotted brain, the simplest solution isn’t the one most easily arrived upon. The ride zigged and zagged. Streets, alleyways, underpasses and finally, Duke’s Hideaway. SAFE! The main impetus was to check out Roger’s band, Paper Thick Walls. They rocked, so we showed them our asses:
Considering that more drinks were needed and the bar was closing, those with stomachs of iron geared up and made a short trip to Oasis for some darts and brews. You know how you can get a baby to stop wanting the chocolate by pointing out a puppy? Yeah, that’s the way I was with the darts. Everyone was safer after I was distracted from them with big sweaty pitchers of beer.
No injuries, all cool. See you next month!
