Race day, the phone rings it’s Rea-Rea, I ask what time is it?
“did you see the Grammy’s?”
What?
“The Grammy Awards, the the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences of ...”
No, did you? and what time is...nevermind what’s the temperature?
“Fifteen degrees, but have you ever heard of Amy Winehouse?”
who? no, why?
“How about Feist? Michael Bublé? Plain White T's?”
No, no and No...and such are the seeds for the conversation for the MASTERS race set to begin the 2008 season in mid-February. Normally I don’t race in subfreezing temperatures but since this is a leap year and the hollywood writer’s strike had just ended, I couldn’t stay at home one more saturday and NOT peal the old wallpaper off the ‘looks-just-fine-to-me’ kitchen. Besides the Masters race was to feature the likes of Cadillac George, Luca Brasi, and the aforementioned Rea-Rea (all slimmed down and jacked up).
I roll up to the start and Cadillac is ranting about Herbie Hancock winning album of the year, “Did you hear his Joni Mitchell Tribute? trash!” he proclaims.
I know Geo., I prefer his work with the Miles Davis second great quintet, or Rockit, for that matter, but pop music is more about Starbucks than, well music these days.
The start line also finds Farmer John and the Young-and-the-restless Andy in the 1-2-3-4 race (good luck cat. 4s), and trailing our start, in the Cat 5 race, was the man of Gawd, Dan T.
We roll out and Luca sings a constant refrain from a George Thorogood record, maybe as a way to block the Grammy conversation. “Yeah, Luca, you’re bad to the bone, shut up already!”
Three laps at ten miles a lap - the pace is brisk here’s the stats. First lap 21.3 MPH, Second 20.7, third 21.4 mph. Everyone takes turns at the front, and because we are in a heavy discussion about the state of the music industry we cooperate. Yeah, by the start Rea-Rea’s Grammy fever had spread. Sure we all had gone online to listen to a few notes from Amy Winehouse’s “hit” the lyrics go something like this:
They tried to make me go to rehab
I said no, no, no.
Yes I been black, but when I come back
You wont know, know, know.
I ain’t got the time
And if my daddy thinks im fine
He’s tried to make me go to rehab
I wont go, go, go.
“Brilliant” Rea-Rea chimes in sarcastically - might be Alexander Vinokourov’s theme song, But the music sounds like something from 1960’s motown. “Sure, that’s the thing, these kids have NO music of their own time, for their own time.”
Who did we have, I ask Peter Frampton? The Eagles? Styx? I think I’m gonna be sick...
Finally Luca wakes up (I think we are in lap two), “hey what about the Commodores? Then he starts singing - which makes us all start singing
She's a brick----house
Mighty mighty, just lettin' it all hang out
She's a brick----house
The lady's stacked and that's a fact,
ain't holding nothing back.
She knows she got everything
a woman needs to get a man, yeah.
How can she use, the things she use
36-24-36, what a winning hand!
She's a brick----house
Mighty mighty, just lettin' it all hang out
She's a brick----house
Nothing like the classics! and the race is on, all the brotherly love displayed in the first 2 laps of the race turns into a a family reunion for Uday and Qusay Hussein. I’m trying to figure out how I can drop my teammates and they do the same.
Luckily the finish of the Frosty Toes sets up just like a Baghdad street with parked cars, bomb craters, and gravel everywhere. We make the final right turn and I follow the diesel engine of Cadillac George (outfitted for 2008 as an olive oil bio-diesel ) up the short incline past a few of the locals to get third place just behind the newly revamped star Rea-Rea. 2.0.
Summary: no crashes, no frostbite, no Pascale - so, no underwear dance. We take 4 out of the top 5 finishes in the Master's race, and thus it starts...
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