December First Friday was stellar. Why is it that ridin' fixies and cruisers and extracycles around in the dark and the slush and ice with work gloves and PBR and hoopin and hollerin' and skidding and boogien' never gets old?
Because the Stompa is forever young motha fucka!
Individually, we may age. But together, we will never grow up.
Still, behind the Slappy DJ stand in the Old Saw Space covered with newsprint being drawn on by Bonedale hipsters to 90s beats-- somewhere between the Sensimilla and Somebody's Bourbon-- we realized something.
We were celebrating the first birthday of the Carbondale Creative Cycling Collective -- AKA
The Stomparilla Brigade.
So happy birthday you bunch of good for anything pedal strokers. May you live long and strong and die a slow, instant death. Like moss on a rock, you're nothing but green fuzzy love-- eeping for a ray of sun and a drop of rain.
How 'bout another Stompa Summit?