PBR

After racing in the darkened streets of Tucson over the weekend, I have come to the conclusion that somewhere between Phoenix and Tucson there is an inter-dimensional worm hole of some kind. I can find no other explanation for the staggering differences between the two locals. Nothing is the same. The two cities couldnt be more different and not necessarily one better than the other, just different. Whether i was sitting at a cafe, or lounging at the eclectic Hotel Congress, or riding the bike, i felt like i was in a different country. Maybe something in Europe like Belgium without the water or a suburb of London without the cockney accents. It seemed like no one is afraid to be creative or express themselves in the big T. Every wall has posters for local bands and there are dozens of them. Every other corner downtown has local art or people hanging around giving the appearance of being starved artists. The club we went to after the race (Che's Lounge) was covered with original oil paintings and occupied with just as original locals. In a scene out of a dream, somewhere around midnight, a band of twenty or so people dressed like circus clowns came honking and twirling down the street outside the bars windows. In any other setting clowns en masse' would have moved my personal alert level from yellow to orange, but here i found their runnny makeup and shabby outfits amusing and whimsical. It should also be noted i was drunk at the time. I eneded up fairing better than i thought i would in the race. 4th overall and the first Phoenix participant to finish. The race was stacked for a local only to win as their was no map and the manifest had no addresses,

Stop#1 Far end of Campus.

Stop #2: Uri's House.

Stop #3 The park. ???

Luckily i was able to hang with some locals and grab a wheel. A good time was had by all. I will be back for the next race armed with some knowledge of the streets and a better appreciation of European/Tucsonian culture.