Saturday Stupidity XI

Tour of the Mountains Of The Moon

Annual Ride Report

This year we decided to do our annual spin to the mountains of the Moon in the fall as we had to finish our trans-Antarctic unicycle expedition in February, so we could get to see the mating ritual of the Campagnolo Penguin.

Peter Ptarmigan, Giles von Rundstedt and I headed off naked at dawn from the hotel and for the first 100 miles we had to battle our way through vast herds of Wildebeeste. Off to the left we could see a Tyrannosauras Rex stalking an insurance salesman and the sky was full of the sounds of rutting American Presidents. Presently we began to climb the Allthingsmust Pass, which starts off with a gentle 27% gradient but gets gradually steeper until at 35,000 feet we had to put on our oxygen masks.

We then began some serious climbing and as we were running out of fuel, we borrowed a bucket of Hershey bars from a passing Stealth fighter pilot. While we were eating them some yellow-tailed Lammermuir vultures passed by with loud squawks and we just missed being hit by a Pterodactyl who was carrying Paula Jones in his beak.

At 120 miles we stopped for our morning break and then descended the 45 miles to Allo Palto. Giles’ tires were so hot that when he got to the bottom they melted the tarmac. I was a little disappointed as due to a speed wobble I just failed to break the sound barrier, a feat which I have only managed on 14,157 occasions. We then went into a straight boring 237m stretch and stopped for a photo.

We popped into Paris for a large lunch on the left Bank with my old restaurateur friend, Marcel Mitterand, with whom I have been eating for 87 years. We then did a quick loop through Berlin and started on the foothills of Everest. Half ways up we passed Rudy Messner who was snowboarding down, surrounded by a huge herd of winged lesser spotted Aardvarks. He stopped briefly to have his picture taken with me and continued on his way.

I refused to sign an autograph for him as he had no technical qualifications and was dosing himself illegally on huge doses of snakeoil and lunar green cheese. Off to the left I could see the remnants of Alexander the Great’s army eating cookies and on our right there was a brown dog.

After a quick foray over the top of Everest we quickly climbed Kilimanjaro and as the sun was falling, had a lash over Mount Fuji, swooped down to the Dead Sea and arrived in time for dinner in Manuel’s restaurant in Tijuana. 14,157.12 miles, 135,000 ft but I never mention average speed as it would make you all feel even lousier than you already feel having read this.


The above was a piece written by Garry Lee, meant to be travesty of Jobst Brandt's legendary ride reports.

FOR PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS OF STUPIDITY, SEE :

Saturday Stupidity I
Saturday Stupidity II
Saturday Stupidity III
Saturday Stupidity IV
Saturday Stupidity V
Saturday Stupidity VI
Saturday Stupidity VII
Saturday Stupidity IX
Saturday Stupidity X

* * *