Fail
I failed last night to defend my title in the modified division of the Office Chair Downhill 2008, in part, at least, because I failed to notice that the race was starting.
As I stood at the top of the hill cheering the stock chair riders in their final heat, it didn’t occur to me that the several modified numbers—including a striking shopping-cart mounted recliner with a paper-maché cow-catcher on front—taking off after them were actually joining in for the final run, and that this was my one chance for repeated glory on the Fairview hill.
Alas, it was not to be, and probably just as well because the winning contraption was way faster and far more stable than this year’s model on my part, The Assburner II, a swiveling Ikea desk chair mounted with bungie cords to Mimi’s skateboard. Unlike its predecessor, the A2 did not feature a particularly low center-of-gravity (rocket scientists refer to this as “CG”) and almost threw me into a full face plant when, during my post-race consolation ride down the course, its wheels hit a pavement seam and lurched to a halt, upending seat and rider and sending one of the chair’s casters off into oblivion.
Nevertheless, the race itself was a winner, as more that a dozen committed furniture surfers braved the damp, chilly evening to compete in this year’s running of the plastic wheels. I’m not sure who finally won, but a couple riders, notably a guy named Matt and another going by Slim showed superb form (and major cojones) in taking first or second in at least one of the heats.
The booze nurse was their, shivering in her crisp white outfit, administering shots of Jagermeister to fallen—and upright—competitors, and an awards ceremony with, I think, a cruiser bike for the champion—capped the festivities.
Me, I hit 13 Coins, to drown my sorrows in bourbon, a project at which, in contrast to my racing, I succeeded admirably.
As I stood at the top of the hill cheering the stock chair riders in their final heat, it didn’t occur to me that the several modified numbers—including a striking shopping-cart mounted recliner with a paper-maché cow-catcher on front—taking off after them were actually joining in for the final run, and that this was my one chance for repeated glory on the Fairview hill.
Alas, it was not to be, and probably just as well because the winning contraption was way faster and far more stable than this year’s model on my part, The Assburner II, a swiveling Ikea desk chair mounted with bungie cords to Mimi’s skateboard. Unlike its predecessor, the A2 did not feature a particularly low center-of-gravity (rocket scientists refer to this as “CG”) and almost threw me into a full face plant when, during my post-race consolation ride down the course, its wheels hit a pavement seam and lurched to a halt, upending seat and rider and sending one of the chair’s casters off into oblivion.
Nevertheless, the race itself was a winner, as more that a dozen committed furniture surfers braved the damp, chilly evening to compete in this year’s running of the plastic wheels. I’m not sure who finally won, but a couple riders, notably a guy named Matt and another going by Slim showed superb form (and major cojones) in taking first or second in at least one of the heats.
The booze nurse was their, shivering in her crisp white outfit, administering shots of Jagermeister to fallen—and upright—competitors, and an awards ceremony with, I think, a cruiser bike for the champion—capped the festivities.
Me, I hit 13 Coins, to drown my sorrows in bourbon, a project at which, in contrast to my racing, I succeeded admirably.
posted by Professor Dave at 11:01 AM
1 Comments:
I thought that was you at the race. Next time I'll say hi. I have a few pics of the race on Gurldogg.
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