Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, Pt 1, by Gary Allen

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen

The invitation came in the summer. A running event that required an
essay to enter, no fees and it seems no bull. I wrote back.

Sept 24. Midnight. Driving rapidly toward northern Maine on Interstate
95. Destination Aroostook county. The fog is thick. I can barely see
the road ahead. I have the cruise control set at 79 mph,thinking a cop
might let me off if keep it 1 mph below 80. There are no other cars on the road. Car moose accidents are common in
this part of the world. Neither fare very well when they meet. I am dressed as a
Spartan. I am wearing a dark maroon toga and little else. The heated
seats are toasty on my bare ass. I have Nick Cave cranked on the radio. His dark lyrics make the night and the fog only darker. I figure if I collide with a moose the police will at the very least be amused by a dead roman gladiator
driving a Volkswagen Passat with Nicks riffs..."Just remember that death is not the end,
When you're standing on the crossroads, That you cannot comprehend, Just remember that death is not the end.", playing on the radio. I study the road intently as the the miles click by. I burst out of the fog and suddenly am in Houlton, now I need to follow US Route 1 North to a place called Presque Isle. When I arrive at a few minutes before 4am I have no idea where the start is but being a veteran of many races in strange towns I
search for clues that will lead me to the start. Road Cones? None.
People wearing trash bags? None. Banners? None. Geeks with gadgets?(GPS, fuel belts, i-pods) None.
So I stop at an allnight gas station and convenience store and ask about a place called
Mojo. I also purchase a banana, a coke and a bottle of water, cause the
race instructions say we need to be totally self sufficient. The lady
looks at my costume and with her best cougar smile says, growwwl out the door, take a left, go
thru the light by Walmart then it's on your right sweetie! I was surprised she
didn't ask me why I was dressed like I was and that she didn't ask me to come over to her place, but also remembered that Northern Maine is known for being different and maybe she sees roman soldiers thru here
regularly? I pulled into the dark parking lot and did not see another
person. Strange for a race that would be starting in about 45 minutes,
I decide to pull on some running shorts under my ropes and I don by
battle helmet. I twist the cap of my coke and with a hiss I spray
myself with caramel syrup. For a second I am pissed off to get wet then I
remember this race is called the Aroostook Dirty 30 (Yes. 30 miles!) and
figure my frocks will be damp before days end as the race organizers
also said we needed to be able to swim and to bring a life vest.

to be continued................