When you announce a "Showdown at Black Creek," you better get ready. The good citizens of Black Creek are right damn serious about their showdowns.
When the locals hear a gang of nine rogue randonneurs are riding into town, they bring in the hired gun, Giant Cowboy Bob, to handle the dirty work.
The whole town turns out at high noon to see whether blood will be spilled. Hell, they even sell cotton candy out of a little booth called Custard's Last Stand.
If you're counting on the local law to get your back, think again, Tex. The police have more pressing problems of their own.
The gunslingers square off on Main Street ... someone in the crowd yells "Duck!" ... and a guy named Bobbie shows up with one.
A stunningly handsome wood duck named Aflac.
Yesterday was one of those magic randonneuring days, a two-wheeled trip into the Twilight Zone. Maybe it was the croissants and coffee at the Wakefield High School, courtesy of Jerry and Branson. Maybe it was the street fair in what is normally the ghost town of Black Creek. Maybe it was the first real fall day, where the chilly air made forward motion a must. Maybe it was a grey and purple sky with a promise of rain that never really delivered. Maybe it was the biscuits at Bojangles. Maybe it was the social stop at Sheeeeeeetz, 10 miles before the finish, where we sat outside, warming our insides with coffee.
This was of my most memorable 200Ks ever. Thanks to all who made it that: Branson, Jerry, Bob, Dan, Dean, Tom & Mary, Byron. Slideshow below.
The proceeds of the ride have been donated to Friends of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail. A couple folks made extra donations. You know who you are. Thank you.