24.4.09

The End of an Age

Still searching for a stage win, Jacob rides with Will Frischkorn in search of glory on a warm afternoon in Wichita Falls.


Jacob: Dude, those guys have legs of steel.
Will: I wish I had a bronze tan like that.
Jacob: Those wheels look pretty heavy though.
Will: That’s all I got.
Jacob: Same here.
Statue1: I have brass balls.
Jacob: Hadn’t thought of that.
Statue2: If I’m a bit squirrely, it’s because my crit skills are rusty
Will: Damn, they showed us.

Jacob: Will, what’s it like having a cool last name?
Will: It’s pretty neat really. Fresh Korn is a pretty easy name for my blog.
Jacob: Do you like my idea of starting a blog called Dod’s Son?
Will: Uh…
Jacob: Cause I think it’s got some potential.
Will: I think you can do better.
Jacob: Dachshund?
Will: Get back to me on that one.

Will: We’re having a hard time holding this pace.
Jacob: No need to tell me, I-
Will: Jacob! Your mustache!

Jacob: What?
Will: It, it’s still growing!
Jacob: Curses! It must be stealing my lactic acid to grow at such a rate!

Will: It must be stopped if we have any hope of staying in this race.
Jacob: I’ll get a feed.
Jacob: Razor! Razor!



Will: Hurry Jacob! We’re falling off the back!

Jacob: Almost there...

Jacob: Vill! Vhat do you think of mein mustache now?
Will: I don’t think that that’s a popular fashion.
Jacob: And...Done!

But it was too little too late. Despite the surge in strength, Jacob couldn’t chase down the pack in time.

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