Seoul Part 2

Meet Andy at 1:15. Load three bikes. Toast a cold one. Pass out for a couple hours. Blink. Jerky bus pulls into the station. Bleary eyes focus on a sleep depraved daze. Bikes pulled out into the crisp air, we stare at each other and go about assessing material belongings. Looks like everything is here.

The two bike shuffle to Stu's nearest bakery and wait, eat yesterdays cooked dough listening to the shittiest music in the world. Korean Pop. Must compare most closesly to seventies eighties, nineties and current pop music popular in the states. Shit all around. As a matter of fact. It is impossible to escape this plagueish cruelty that most successfully satruated the lower half of the Korean peninsula. Pooah! At any given moment, while standing on any street in any large city, one could find themself deciding between no less than three different beats in which to walk to. Fuking mind numbing.

Get the call to come up to Stu's. Within twenty minutes the other 5 guys show, and it's on the road. Interesting Bongo ride. Stu's an interesting guy.

On the mountain, the drops were on. I managed to do three of the four big drops, opting out of the 15 footer that has only been managed by one other Filthy. And thus it bares his name: Johny's Drop. I'm still trying to get another photo or two of the other drops. This was the first of four. Did this one twice.

The mountain was not quite as fast as the previous weekend but railed all the same. No morning rain to add the adhesive to the dirt. Dusty it was. We put down six runs and far too much beer. When the truck was emptied in the garage we filled a 40 gallon garbage can with beer bottles. A bit excessive me thinks. The next trip up will be done with less liquid courage. The next trip up will be my last. Planning a hike and bike day on Acha-san. Beer doesn't have a place when we're hiking these beasts to the top instead of enjoying the pleasure of the shuttle bitch bongo.

After the mountain, we stopped at a USFK golf course and country club. They have the best burgers on the peninsula. These are the guys...
Most are part of the group named the Filthies.
This is the bongo crew. There's another couple guys
that we associate with a jeep. The jeep crew. Some of the
guys ride with both rigs, some choose not to. There's a bit of bad blood
somewhere in the group so when one rig goes out, the other stays home.
Childish. Hopefully that'll change before I come back.

So burgers down, little nap in the back of the Bongo on the ride home, unloaded and bikes locked up, Andy and I head for a bath house. 5 bucks gets you five varrying temp hot tubs, washing facilities and a razor. Looking sharp, feeling awake, ready to move, we hop in a police car and get a front door service ride to the club.

The music was good, the club was sweet, but the turn-out was shit. The head-liner didn't make his flight from England. Still, I managed to dance for 5 hours with about ten minutes of rest. I do this little crazy dance that has evolved from my yourger days on the floor of the 3B to a twisting hippy dance that only works with break beats. Superfun, but horrible on my recently broken foot. I limped home...

Well that's about it. A good weekend in all. I sold a bike, Andy sold a bike, the riding was twisted and fun, the eats and beats filled in the gaps and the KTX (Korean bullet train) zoomed us south to Daegu. Brought my lady some flowers and took her out to dinner when we got back. Woke up Monday tired but rested.

Next weekend I'm takin' it easy.