Goat sprints

After stuffing Ben and an enormous box full of un-built rollers into that back of a cab we were off. The cab wound its way deep into eastvan. This was not the nice neighborhood where families make there quite lives amidst quite people. This was a neighborhood where you could blare hardcore music deep into the night and the cops don't even bother to drive by.

We set up the rollers in front of the two upside down crosses, to the right of the unfilled shallow grave. No i am not kidding. People started to roll in around 7:00. We started putting the pain down around 8:00.

If you look up the word intense in a dictionary you might see a picture of two couriers, one with a seven inch mohawk, throwing down every ounce of effort they have for a 666 meter sprint, while having empty/half empty beercans thrown at them. If i could bottle that shit and sell it i would make three million dollars.

Luckily the machetes never came out (yes a dude had two machetes), and the shallow grave was never filled. But we did run around 40 sprints. After learning that we needed to use spotters to make sure the bikes maintained contact with the rollers in the right way there really weren't any hardware problems. I lost some magnets, thank god i had extras. Duct tape is king.

I am going to fly to the moon on a rocket of awesome, and goldsprints will be my rocket fuel.