First you land. You’ve got to start by landing. It’s so important to land, it’s a total must. So you land, then you dock, then you wait for ten minutes, listening to I don’t know… BenZel & Cashmere Cat’s Just A Thought featuring Ryn Weaver, patiently watching the Bent Neckers and Aisle Jumpers jostle, then you disembark, then you buy a coffee (Starbucks if possible—the real question is, is it too early in the day and the race and the whole campaign to start burning your Emotional Mocha matches?), then you find the rental car counter, then you decline everything and initial all over the place, then you find 78B in which 78B is an Excelsior Blue Kia Rio with 6,783 miles on it, then you turn it on, then you fuck with the climate control system (if needed), then you search Gmail for your hotel reservation information—which, why don’t you ever just have that information as well as all your other informations in one fucking place? but that’s a different story, clearly—then you type your destination address into Google Maps, then the lady tells you to head north on Airport Roads towards Airport Road then turn right on Airport Road, then you find the exit of the rental car parking lot, which sometimes is easier said than done, then, FINALLY, you start fucking with the radio station.
And that’s when you know (sometimes for the first time), like really know, that you’ve arrived somewhere else. A new city! Sometimes you just turn the volume up and like, that’s it, you’re already there. Sometimes you have to scan. Sometimes you have to switch it from Satellite or AM to FM. YOU HAVE TO AT LEAST START WITH A LOCAL FM STATION. A.) Because it’s a ritual. B.) Because it’s the fastest most efficient way to immerse. Immersion is necessary unless you’re a barbarian; I mean how else do you take the temperature and get a read on just what kind of environment and culture you just landed into?, how else do you assimilate your surroundings and recalibrate based on various local particulars like colloquialisms, nuances, stupid jokes, news, and possibly most importantly, music proclivities? In this particular case, the first thing you hear coming out of your Rio’s stock speaker system in Chattanooga, Tennessee is:
When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver, hey, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you
Which what the fuck is “havering” anyway? Hold please. Okay I just checked. Apparently havering is to make a silly joke or talk foolishly. I think it’s like when you’re chatting-up somebody you’re attracted to but you’re still young, like maybe in middle school or something, and so you say goofy shit like I like your eyebrows, wouldn’t it be funny if you didn’t have eyebrows. I still think you’d look hot though!!!! Just gross too, lolz. Want to go to the rollerskating in my driveway?
So yeah anywhooooooo, The Proclaimers and Manual for Speed would like to welcome you to Chattanooga, TN for the 2015 USA Cycling National Road Race Championships: Where Dreams Are Reached.”- MFSBecause of the whole Stars and Stripes nature of this bicycle race it feels a little bit like the Olympics-lite. It feels… optimistic and grand and pleasantly nationalistic, and naive, and like a place where DREAMS COME TRUE. Also, it’s Memorial Day!, which (kinda) fits… maybe????… it definitely helps with parking and street closures if nothing else so yeah. The problem is, it’s a dream come true for so few people; for most, it’s a nightmare. Okay, maybe not a nightmare, but close. Especially today, today was a horrible day, race-wise, for a number of people important to Manual for Speed. But listen we can talk about that shit, or not, at a later date. At the moment, let’s talk about dreams.