If friends are the family we choose, then group rides are the family vacations no one wants to choose. Ownership. Commitment. Deciderating. These are words. Maybe even some of them. Some of them may be made up. You’ll never know. And stringing them together in a group of three is what marketeers call “the hook,” and what Flemish painters call “a triptych.” But more than that, these three words are things that most of my teammates are loath to internalize. Every weekend is like fucking Groundhog Day.
Let me paint you a word picture: After an evening spent regaling international celebrities (who aren’t strippers or imaginary friends at all) with my witty repartee, I retire to my hypoxic tent / princess canopy bed to dream the dream of the righteous. Dawn breaks. My sounds. He is my trusty domestique, charged with helping me bridge from the pursuivant group of sleepytown to the tete de la course that is Go Time.
Yes, I could and should be engaging in late-morning spooning sessions and possibly early brunching/sexing, but I am dedicated to those I am fortunate enough to call teammates. They feed me. Like, literally. I don’t “shop.” I find it beneath my “station.” Which means if I want that crucial once-a-week meal of jerky and possibly rancid almonds, I have to make the team ride. So I do.
And when I do, I am often appalled at the lack of come-togetherness I am confronted with.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Newberry is bullshit. That’s like what you ride when your parents are in town and you only have 45 minutes.”
“Fuck going out East. I only have like 2 hours. By the time we get to Troutdale I’ll have to turn around. I might as well ride a trainer while my gross uncle farts in my face. Same difference.”
“I’d totally do hills, but I quad-blasted this afternoon at the gym. Did so many squats the chick at the front desk called me “Sa-squats.” Like the Bigfoot. Sooo worked, bro. “
Fuck all of that. I’m done.
The answer? It was so simple. It was right in front of me: Dungeons and Dragons.
Yeah, I know. Being nerdy has a certain cachet these days in popular culture. NBA stars try to look like Urkel. Girls with fake boobs wear Boba Fett underoos. Even Bill Gates is getting laid (allegedly). But I’ve paid my fucking dues. Back when I started rolling 20s, people thought Gygax was a prescription medication for cold sores. Most of my homework from 1986 through 1991 was done on hex paper. Anytime I hear someone say, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” I make a saving throw. Real talk.
So I reconciled my past with my present. At JVA team rides we don’t just roll, we roll for damage. All the possible rides in the Portland area are numbered according to saddle time and degree of profundity. Each week we choose a Dungeon Master. They roll the dice. The resulting roll determines the route. No bickering. No bullshit. The DM has spoken. You get insolent? Ima wipe my ass with your Character Record Sheet.
