Access denied indeed. Chequamegon Fat Tire Festival...my sorry arse.
What the hell does a guy gotta do, to get into this race...don't answer that. Gawd you people are such pervs. Geez get your own tots.
Talk about frustration city folks. It's official. The letter came in the mail the other day. Twice denied. Two years in a row now for yours truly. Luxo-D shant be riding down the lush September pastures this year at the Chequamegon. No sir, no mam, no sweet ambrosia... for this bike enthusiast, no doubt. Scorned again.
What do I do?
I know what you're thinking...that's because you people always think the lowest of me. "Will I cry in my water bottle– like a Big-Fat-Blubbering-Baby?" Perhaps. Okay yes. Ahhh...indeed you know me so well. My burden, it's true.
Well so what!
Maybe this time, I will volunteer to help out the race. HOW? By picking up garbage and GU packets, or handing towels to vomiting riders that fall off their bikes. Oh I have pride, and maybe I'll do those rude jobs...so next year... maybe next year...I'll get my shot at the Big time! Then somebody else can hand ME... Luxo-D... a vomit towel.
Or, I'll just stay home and paint some Warhammer 40k figurines.