My life has begun to accelerate to the point where I can’t possibly record it all. No, my cat didn’t do something cute, I mean real life. This weekend was incredible, and incredibly stressful. But it all worked out, with no casualties.

Prior to the ride, there was some drama regarding allowing regular bikes (learned a new term for them this weekend- “shortbikes”) into the ride. A few grasshoppers wanting in on the ants’ hard work, if you know what I mean. But we did a good job arranging for a chopper for everyone who wanted to ride.

Four gangs showed up- the Rat Patrol, the Chicago Scallywags, the Minneapolis Scallywags, and the Black Label Bike Club (formerly Hard Times Bike Club). I’d say there were sixty of us in all. In the face of sixty freakbikes, I think the shortbike riders understood what we were trying to pull off- but there were still two indentiopathic activist types, incapable of even being guests in someone else’s event without bringing along their soapbox. Fortunately they were largely ignored.

The Hard Times BC? Despite their reputation as being mean, rough, and stabby, they were sweet as can be. They gave me tons of presents and cleaned up after themselves when they left. They tended to keep to themselves a bit, but I suspect that’s a function of how tight-knit they are as a gang. I learned so much from them this weekend that I can’t even put it all in words. I can’t wait to go up there for May Day and the St. Chino’s ride.

There was even a real rat in the ride, as the Scallys all have them living in their hoods. I got peed on by it. I also got yelled at, a lot, by the parade marshall, as I was the unit marshall and supposed to keep them organized. Apparently I failed but I could never figure out what the guy wanted. The funny thing is that the other marshall, Matt the Ratt, is a really nice, respectable, disarming type of guy. I was pissing off this guy just by existing.

The cops, too, were licking their chops and shining up their billy clubs. “You’re in the wrong place,” one said, and another said, “We’re waiting for you.” But the kids loved us. And isn’t that what it’s all about, the children?

We discovered that rats do not do well out in the open. Every single problem that arose stemmed from the Rat Patrol leaving its usual guidelines. We’ve decided to withdraw a bit, go back into the alleys.

The parade was one of those things you do where you spend so much effort pulling it off, you don’t have time to enjoy it. However, for six brief blocks, me and sixty other tallbikes, choppers, funnybikes, and assorted wacky HPVs ruled the city.