On the morning of June 8th, 2013, riders in the greater DC area were subject to a pitiful scene. Five youthful seeming members of the so-called "Rock Creek Velo" club, an ostensible Washington DC-based development cycling team, lay sprawled across the shoulder. Their bikes and equipment lay strewn about, and they sat cross legged bickering and eating foraged food.
Eyewitnesses recount passing them several times, indicating the seeming lovable band of misfits had been sitting on the shoulder for an estimated duration of four days and seven hours.
"I saw them on Tuesday at this exact location," said local rider Hank Lyonpants, "and then again this morning [Saturday]." In both cases, the RCV ruffians assured Hank they needed no help, and Hank did "not stop, because, you know, kids 'n all." At this point, Hank uploaded his Garmin data and plotted his estimated June Boondoggle mileage total, at current vector.
A group of cyclists from local club, District Velocity Hankypanky, said they'd also seen the stranded RCV kids. They'd passed by once, then stopped on their return. The children, said DVH rider, Juan LeChew, "were eating boxes of fruit they claimed had fallen out of a passing truck." Funnily enough, they claimed to have spurned a pizza that had fallen from the same truck. "Kids turning down pizza for fruit?" LaChew puzzled. "Strange kids."
For reasons unknown, the RCV squad were absolutely chimney sweep filthy. "I've been in the Peace Corps and seen some Third World level of child filth, " said eyewitness Patrick Jarenwattenassenhottentot, shaking his head in disbelief, "but those RCV kids were like Payday bars--syrup rolled in nuts of filth."
As it turned out, the Rock Creek Crue needed help fixing a stubborn flat. They'd blown at least seventy three tubes, so they'd claimed. LeChew, a former shop mechanic, quickly diagnosed the problem as one of using water balloons instead of butyl or latex bicycle inner tubes made specifically for tires of approximately 23x700.
District Velocity Hankypanky then loaned the RCV pizza-spurning, fruit-guzzling, water balloon-obsessed, swine-hole wallerin' youngsters a tube, inflated their tire, called a tow truck to haul away the 2,354 empty CO2 canisters purportedly used on water balloons, instructed them gently to "go hose yourselves off," and agreed they would greet each other at that afternoon's festivities in Arlington, where there was to be a large cycling event later that day.
The RCV gang, however, never did show their faces to their gallant District Velocity Hankypank saviors. In fact, eyewitness accounts suggest that the RCV cru remained in their previous location, devouring fruit and requesting more tubes and assistance.
This suggests one thing--RCV is running a scam to solicit tubes and aid. Like the broke-down-car scam, the RCV broke-down-tire scam plays upon empathy and good will.
Local police have put out a warning to motorists and cyclists: do not stop to help RCV juniors with purported fruit addictions and water balloon tubes. You will be guilted into donating tubes, feeding a monster.
Then that monster will grow up, start racing against you, crush you and make you realize how old you are, then go on to ride as a professional while you retire to a nursing home and pass gently into that good night.
The dangers of assistance to these dangerous youth are real. For your own safety and the preservation of the world's very limited supply of rubber and fruit, if you see a RCV troupe stranded, just smile and pass on by.
Editor's note: This article is, of course, a joke. We love the RCV kids and got the hugest kick out of seeing them on the side of MacArthur eating raspberries and being about the coolest thing we've seen in years (yes, we really did see them there in conditions not too different from those described above). If you do see a RCV kid stopped, in trouble or not, please do give them every bit of help you can. And RCV kids, please have some mercy on us old codgers--especially ol' Paps--when you get to racing with us.