Mr Larrington's Automatic Diary: Day 18: Battle Mountain NV

The stubby peasant fingers of some, or more, marauding Dutchmen have been at the boot lid of the Ratmobile to make it look like the horsey badge is doning a poo, thereby bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase or saying "pony car". I did not get a picture of this yesterday and it may have gone by the time I next go outside. This is because it is raining with a passion unbecoming in a so-called "desert" and, moreover, started doing so about three minutes before I arrived at the course this morning. If I look up from where I am sitting in my room at the Super 8 I should be able to see the mountains on the other side of the valley. I cannot, which suggests that the rain is going to be around for a while. And even when it stops the road remains 'orribly greasy for quite a while as we discovered back in 2002 when three riders joined the 305 Flying Club in quick succession. Meanwhile the motel's conference room is full of grubby Canadians polishing things while the lobby is full of well-presented Italians drinking coffee. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they've brought their own coffee as well as their own pasta. Gareth Hanks' mother tells us that Starbucks have been repulsed by the citizens of Captain Cook's Mistake as they had their own influx of Italians many years ago and thus knew what coffee was supposed to taste like long before the Seattle Tax-Dodgers started trying to foist their foul Brown Drink on the populace.

Omnes:

Hurrah! [They throw their collective hat into teh air]

I shall shortly have to shog off to the Civic Center as we have a Meeting and then the Annual Invasion of the Small People poking their little jammy fingers into the bikes and asking for autographs. And a free lunch. In the meantime you can entertain yourselves by watching this video what has popped up on YouThing overnight like a strange hallucinogenic MUSHROOM.

Of course the combination of hippie oddballs and Al-Jazeera means that the Homeland Security Arrest-o-Bots will be dragging us off to Guantanamo Bay by this afternoon, in spite of what Nice Mr Obambi has said about shutting the place down.

To help pass his Copious Free Time Jonathan has borrowed a guitar from Mark Mueller. He does not, however, look enough like Antonio Banderas for him to be mistaken for El Mariachi.

Now back from the Civic Center before the Smalls show up in order to save my poor feetses from further ouch. Not only has it started raining again but there are Wagnerian thunder and lightning effects going on over there | Don't rate our chances of running tonight very highly, frankly. Some hand-selected photos from the lunchtime games:

Larry Lem at the head of the lunch queue. No change there, then

O noes! It's Western Half-Devil Monster Face van Schaik!!

Mikey has a stick! Be afraid! Be very afraid!!

3:30 pm and I'm not sure whether those are mountains I can see over there or just clouds that look like mountains.

4:40 pm and I've just met Team Cygnus on their way to the pool, from which I divine that the only items on the agenda are the long-awaited return to the Ming Dynasty and a showing of "Battle Mountain: Graeme Obree's Story". Seen it. No killin's. No 'splosions. No helichopters. 's rubbish¹. Early night tonight, then.