Team Endura...me likey

Time for a tale from Atlanta. It just so happens that Team Endura infiltrated Victory Lane...mind you not looking like this...but pretty much acting like this. In fact, I think the people around us pictured us like this, as we trolled our wheelie cooler behind us and into victory lane, hootin' and hollerin', and generally making asses of ourselves. Luckily, there was a celebration going on and hundreds of media urging the victorious crew to exclaim "Wooooooooooooooo," to drown out our similar sentiments as we three jackasses merrily joined in, with the obligatory "#1" finger movement. It was only about 30 degrees that night, so I blame the weather on the level of intoxication that we all undoubtedly exhibited. We might look pretty tame and respectful of the winning team in this picture, but as you can see by the man on the left, he wasn't interested in the post-race activities as all the others were, but probably betting in his head which one of the three of us would do a header on the slippery checkered flag surface first. Luckily for all, we managed to keep each other verticle, mainly like this (thanks in part to Cowboy Dan's Manhands):

I blame it on the whappatuzzis, but that's another story for another time. We were not arrested in victory lane, nor were we banned from ever attending another race...lucky for them. There's no telling how long we were there, or how many people we pissed off, but it was a good time had by all, we're quite sure.

On an unrelated note, Team Endura got a new set of sheets...mama needed a new set of sheets, though after a few thousand beers and such, are sheets all that important? Me thinks not.