You need to have a posse. Some form of community. A third place to frequent. Somewhere to venture beyond home and work. The standing coffee ride. Bike shop happy hour. It’s healthy. We spend too much time alone these days.
At 9:34pm on this Monday evening, there is a greasy film of my posse’s presence throughout my house. For there is an empty bottle of schnapps with a pear trapped inside on my kitchen island. How does the pear get inside you just thought to yourself? Because the Slovenian nuns grow them inside the bottle for safe keeping. And flavor of course. There is also a 5 foot thrift store trophy on my back patio. At the bottom of which is a comically small dildo above a plaque that reads “World Champion“. At the top, a sticker proclaims “SSAZ – Not worth the drive“. Both the schnapps and the cock trophy were given to me by people that I, at least currently, would consider good friends.
The kinds of friends you don’t intentionally seek out. The ones that drift into your orbit while opting for one seemingly fun choice after another. e.g. Circa my mid-20’s when I responded “What the hell” to Dirty’s text message asking if I wanted to hop in his truck after he finished work and roll to Tucson, only to crash the SSAZ after party. Blink twice and some 15 or so years down the line you’re hugging the same people you met that night on 4th Ave, mixing them gin & tonics in a desert campground next to 10 foot headless mannequins. Because they are your people. And all of this is healthy.
Our family reunion comes in the form of Singlespeed Arizona. A heartwarming annual exercise in irreverence. A costume party with no theme. While its origin is rooted in Tucson, recent years have seen the carnival stumble around the state being hosted by different members of the sect. No two are ever the same but common themes usually float to the top.
It will not be winter
The scenery will be captivating
You might get food
Personal affects may get damaged
There will be hike-a-bike
Paul’s van is not a mirage
It’s not going to be world class
Despite outward appearances, not everyone is a vagrant
There is no growth mindset
It’s all just up in the air, where it lands you’ll find out on Monday
Typically you’ll have a couple options for a ride. Short loop, long loop, two beer, three beer. Choose your own adventure. Neither will be easy. As with any grand pecking order, groups will crack off according to their intended displays of fitness. Anyone in a full zip jersey not carrying a beer, who’s planning to save their consumption of party for the comfort station, you’re in the first group. Those desiring a more picnic like experience who’ve packed a sack lunch of beers, cheese, organic hallucinogens, schnapps, cured meats, and candy; will be found sauntering out at their leisure.
Somewhere along the route there’s refreshments. Possibly bottles of tequila tied to a tree. Rubber snakes in the trail. A taco station on a ridge. Paul will host a party out his van consisting of bacon, crudités, and cookies. Boxwine Dan arrived on scene a couple years back to pour delicious red all over your face. Last year there were free flash tattoos in the ramada. Once an ice cream truck rolled up unannounced, and Dirty bought $50 worth of vanilla sandwiches for the herd. Occasionally we stop at a desert bar with abandoned watercraft strewn about property. Or perhaps a wedding occurs under a rickety windmill. The bridal party covered in dust and squinting into the sun, as the onlookers cheers cans of cheap beer and whisper “Oh shit, they’re really doing this.“
Gatherings of this nature serve as my favorite expression of the nebulous third space. Not home, certainly not work, but also not something that requires qualification. Simply a like minded menagerie of people on mountain bikes celebrating the vibe. There’s no course cut off time nor a sweep. BYO everything. No podium shit. No sponsors to thank. Seemingly, no rules.
It’s like Cheers. Except outside, and you’re going to forget a couple names.
What exactly Mr. Birtch had in mind 19 years ago we’ll never know. Only because I’m too afraid to ask. Though regardless of the intentions, the party carries on. A self supported group ride where it’s best to bring everything except your expectations.
And regardless of however good a time it might have been, it was better next year.
