CJ and I’ve ridden Critical Mass in the past but neither of us have actually made a post about it. It’s kind of silly that we haven’t when one considers the hilarious amount of drama that the local media generates the day following the last Friday of every month. For those who don’t know, Critical Mass is a congregation of Houston Cyclists who go for a bike ride and enjoy each other’s company. Haha, I’m kidding. The better way to drum up page views is to describe it as 34 million drunken hipsters running red lights, wasting tax payer money on Police escorts and making you late to your 9pm class with Faaaaabian.
A couple of weekends ago RedBull Energy was in town and put on Urban Rhythm, an awesome BMX show set on a city block turned dirt/vert course colored up by many of Houston’s talented writers and painters. When the stage was complete, dozens of cyclists and extreme sports fans braved cold and muddy weather to glimpse some sweet jumps.
Shots fired! Shots fired! I would yell out these words every time Mike Essa came diving into the long sweeper in his superbeast turbo bimmer and it would backfire like it was gang banging in Oakland. I’d then pause to pick stray bits of rubber off of my Lifeblasters tshirt, clean the front element of my 70-200, and then wait to pan on whoever would be next, wearing a grin so eager, it could only be described as blissful.
For the Hot Import Nights’s Part 2: First Blood: Kills Again Edition post, I bring you a video and CJ was kind enough to drop some funderful images for your pleasure. We love you that much.
I feel a little weird coming to Hot Import Nights because I think I enjoy it too much. Pretty girls, cool cars and a crowd full of people attending in celebration of pretty cars and cool girls make for a wonderful atmosphere and for me a guaranteed great time. This past weekend was my second time coming out to the event and, man, it just keeps getting better.