My Day
In case you haven't heard, some of my peers and I are trying to revive bike jumping, after its quick demise several years ago. As can be expected, this is not an easy task. Many of the premier jumps of the era are now destroyed due to anal landowners and overdevelopement. What remains are a few empty tractor ravaged acres of dirt, full of ruts and bumps, and those desperate and hateful archenemies of plants, weeds. We will prevail however, and have started the long and hard journey toword the recovery of these long forgotten lands of bike jumping and revelry. We will not, however, disregard the past as something inconsequential, and I hereby dedicate the new jumps in progress to the better days of the "Hackamore Jumps," the now flattened behemoths of the "Church Jumps," and to the graves of the "Hillside Jumps," upon which we now toil to ressurect this small piece of the past. True, we only have three or four almost un-jumpable jumps do far, but many more are in various stages of planing. By the year 2025 we hope to have a thriving area complete with drinking fountains filled with Root Beer and a working rollercoaster.
Next on today's itinerary was the Great War of the Bees, or GWB. This is one for the text books, my friends. We were strolling along merrily, enjoying that rapturous blend of the warm sun and the cool spring breeze. We were on our way back to base camp (my back yard) to get some refreshments. Suddenly we realized that inside a neighboring bunker (my barbecue) a large batallion of the enemy was swarming. Never the pessemist, I cryed, "If you be but weary soldiers without rations or arms, raise up a white flag and you will be treated as fellow men." As no flag was to be seen, war was declared. As you may recall, a war after this style was fought years earlier between much the same parties (namely the bees and my father,) but on a much smaller scale. The prefered method of ousting the enemy from one's territory is to utilize those ingenious marvels of modern warfare, flamethrowers (by turning the barbecue on.) However, we could not get close enough to the controls to use this time tested method. We were left to think on our feet and to rely on nothing but our own ingenuity. We removed the roof of the bunker, which swung up quite easily on hinges. What we then realized will chill some of you to the bone. Beware readers who are weak of heart, the story now takes a dramatic turn. There were hundreds of the enemy clinging to the roof seemingly waiting in ambush for us! Action had to be taken. We crossed a barricade (fence) into some farmlands opposing the bunker (Blake's yard.) We proceded to throw what seemed like hundreds of hand grenades (Party Snaps) TNT (oranges) and even shrappnel-filled exploding bombs (Party Poppers). These proved to be almost completely uneffective! These measures only agitated the enemy causing us to retreat back into the nearest fort (Blake's camper.) We realized then and there this was not an enemy to be trifled with. We then used a water cannon (hose) to slaughter our opponents. This plan was finally succesful! With frequent attack missions behind enemy lines by Private Hilke, a continual barrage of TNT from Lieutenant Anderson, and a tank (go-cart) attack by Colonel Switzer, the enemy was nearly erradicated. All that remains is to sweep away, in later days (tomorrow), the bodies of the enemies who were not fortunate to survive the devistating blows of our far superior weaponry.
Next on today's itinerary was the Great War of the Bees, or GWB. This is one for the text books, my friends. We were strolling along merrily, enjoying that rapturous blend of the warm sun and the cool spring breeze. We were on our way back to base camp (my back yard) to get some refreshments. Suddenly we realized that inside a neighboring bunker (my barbecue) a large batallion of the enemy was swarming. Never the pessemist, I cryed, "If you be but weary soldiers without rations or arms, raise up a white flag and you will be treated as fellow men." As no flag was to be seen, war was declared. As you may recall, a war after this style was fought years earlier between much the same parties (namely the bees and my father,) but on a much smaller scale. The prefered method of ousting the enemy from one's territory is to utilize those ingenious marvels of modern warfare, flamethrowers (by turning the barbecue on.) However, we could not get close enough to the controls to use this time tested method. We were left to think on our feet and to rely on nothing but our own ingenuity. We removed the roof of the bunker, which swung up quite easily on hinges. What we then realized will chill some of you to the bone. Beware readers who are weak of heart, the story now takes a dramatic turn. There were hundreds of the enemy clinging to the roof seemingly waiting in ambush for us! Action had to be taken. We crossed a barricade (fence) into some farmlands opposing the bunker (Blake's yard.) We proceded to throw what seemed like hundreds of hand grenades (Party Snaps) TNT (oranges) and even shrappnel-filled exploding bombs (Party Poppers). These proved to be almost completely uneffective! These measures only agitated the enemy causing us to retreat back into the nearest fort (Blake's camper.) We realized then and there this was not an enemy to be trifled with. We then used a water cannon (hose) to slaughter our opponents. This plan was finally succesful! With frequent attack missions behind enemy lines by Private Hilke, a continual barrage of TNT from Lieutenant Anderson, and a tank (go-cart) attack by Colonel Switzer, the enemy was nearly erradicated. All that remains is to sweep away, in later days (tomorrow), the bodies of the enemies who were not fortunate to survive the devistating blows of our far superior weaponry.