Pilgrimage of Beer: Take 2

I knew better than to imply the Beer Pilgrimage would be an annual event. Sometimes two weeks can feel like a year. You just can't let those empty growlers sit on the counter for too long. Our group was smaller this time -- a lucky 13 riders. There were a couple of new faces including Johnny's friend from Lincoln (NE), CVO. Hell of a nice guy with a gift for fitting more crap in a fanny pack than most people shove into their cavernous posenger bags. If you look closely, you'll notice there's a laptop peeking out.

A visit to the Bunny store where we bought way too many sausages. Nice shot of Mrs. O'Houli, who was, ironically, the only non-sausage in the group.

Wittleder doing what he does well. We all got the chance to work on our strengths and weaknesses. It was a very self-empowering ride.

This was a Fruedian slip of the shutter. Do you really think I'd be so arrogant as to snap photos of myself?! I had totally forgotten I had that scar.

Bill doing what he does best -- making crazy costumes out of found items. You just can't take the guy anywhere. Bad lunch lady.

Anthony Jemima at the griddle. Maybe it was his dew rag that got our group pelted with rocks in N Mpls.

Dirty Cop in a moment of witty repose. Or maybe the person on the other line has just told him the test results were negative.

Segway segue ... we made fun of them. They kept going -- in one evenly spaced line.

[This space intentionally left blank.] B Rose's party happened. My alterego, the Drunk Hugger, played a command performance in the Roses' yard. Hugs for all! After all, deep down I'm a lover, not a fighter. Besides hugging frequently is a cure for impaired balance.

"There has to be a morning after ..." A time to think about all the stories you're going to hear from your friends. While I was hugging friends and finishing my beer, someone snuck into the gravity chamber and cranked it to 11. I'm blaming it on the BOB trailer. April grounded me after I grounded my bike. She made me walk home. It was kind of cool to put myself in the shoes of a scolded child. She's always looking out for me.