I will let Cloner tell you about the angry Rodeo driver who did not like any of us passing on the way down.
OK...remember when you were in Kindergarden? If you went to Kindergarden when you were a kid, and if it was anything like my Kindergarden, then you'll remember playing lots of games. We always played Duck-Duck-Goose (you know that one, right, DDGM?).
I remember we had this one kid, Kenny, whom nobody liked very much. The kid wasn't retarded. He wasn't fat and dumpy (that was my job). He wasn't snotty. He wasn't smelly. He wasn't remarkable in any way except one. The kid was a crybaby.
When we played Duck-Duck-Goose, nobody would ever pick Kenny, because they didn't like him. This would make him cry. Then the teachers would "make" us pick him, and this made him cry. Basically, whatever happened, Kenny cried. I believe the guy in the Rodeo was Kenny grown up.
When I approached Kenny and his crybaby family, he already had a truck piled up behind him because he was traveling the speed limit. He ran the speed limit on the straights, then on the turns he'd get down to about 15 mph, just to make sure all was safe. The brakes of the truck behind him smelled like they'd just finished a descent of Monteagle, TN, which is the worst brake smelling place I can think of to compare this to.
I was forced to follow Kenny and his tagalong for a couple of turns until I came upon a short straight. I took this opportunity to politely pass Kenny and the truck following him. I didn't know it was crybaby Kenny until I got up beside him. I recognized him instantly because his loud horn drew my attention to him forcing me to look over. He must have recognized me, too, as he sped up and moved his car to the left to get closer so he could shake my hand. I decided I didn't have time to socialize whilst passing, so I finished my pass and continued down the hill.
I did, later, pull over near the bottom of the hill. Here, I was greeted by the other folks we rode with (Dillon, Kris, Dale, Keith, Rosemary, and a couple of folks I don't know.) and I discovered, to my chagrin, that Kenny knew ALL of them, too! I really wanted to chat with Kenny, but it wasn't to be. As he drove by us a few minutes later, I put my left hand at the inside of my right elbow, then folded my right arm upward into a vertical position and made a fist with the middle finger extended. This gesture, known only to folks from a small part of North Carolina, is the St. Matthew's kindergarden secret wave, and I was sure it would entice Kenny to pull over so we could have a conversation. However, I guess Kenny was too busy crying, as he just blew the horn and kept driving.
Sometimes I miss my childhood. I miss the old swimming hole. I miss my Honda 50. I miss my old dog, Pepper. I don't, however, miss Kenny. I hope I never see Kenny again. But, somehow, I know that I will. Maybe next time he'll have the guts to pull over and take his asswhoopin'.
It was an excellent day of riding except for our encounter with Kenny. I hope everybody else had fun. It was good to see all of you out riding on a cool Sunday morning. Hopefully the tourists load will lighten in the near future and we'll be able to ride in peace.
