Pucker factor

I knew we were in trouble Saturday night when I pedaled up to the staging area and Carlos told me to ride the Goose Lake course and then offer my opinion of whether we should cancel the race because of the dangerous conditions.

Halfway through the lap, I was thinking maybe an oil spill on the ice would improve traction. A couple of riders came off the lake and said, "Um, no, thanks."

Jon Kunesh nailed it when he looked at me near the registration table and said the Frigid Bits championship was gonna be a "Spenard lovefest."

Translation: Somebody's goin' down.

It was an orgy. Everybody was goin' down.

Five inches of new, dry snow on top of glare ice was a recipe for carnage. The race was shortened to options of three or five laps. By the time it was over, the snow on Goose Lake was littered with the imprints of bodies.

It was fun, in a twisted way—the kind of fun you can have only if there are other crazies present to help you laugh your way through it. And it was butt-puckerin' scary. At least it was for most of us.

Amber Stull won the whole damned thing while riding five laps yelling, "Woo-hoo!"

I have no idea what she was saying.

From the saddle of my bike, "Woo-hoo!" sounded like some foreign word for "Holy shit! We're all gonna die!"