The gathering of the bikes at the starting point, Johnson's Drive-in in Groton, Massachusetts.
Clue: at a later intersection the direction to turn depended on whether the date of the riot was even or odd.
Clue: the business of the John Brown family determined which direction to head at a four way intersection.
Clue: the direction to turn depended on whether the pond name implied smart chicks, stupid guys, or hairy eyeballs.
Clue: another turn was based on this rusted sculpture of a gunman. I still think the artist intended it to represent a gunwoman.
Anti-clue: observing this quonset hut was a red-herring. It also messed up people who Mark told, "a new instruction cancels any Follow Numbered Route".
Clue: The sum of the dates being even meant a right turn further down the route.
A closer look at the memorial plaque in Lebanon, Maine -- despite the 1941 date overhead, it is for World War 2 and Korean War vets.
Clue: Sarah's age at death told the way at another stop sign, though there is a 50% chance she was younger than the "correct" answer.
Clue: Count the gravestones between 18" and 4' to find your way. The double curved one in back only counts as one, and one hidden behind the obelisk comes up just shy of 18".
Clue: Use the year of the forest fire to get your bearings further on.
Clue: The teepee told the right way to go; using "quonset hut" would have led you astray.
There were three teepees in the field and my camera washed out all of them. Sigh.
Scott FINALLY arrives. Slow ass. And yet he still was in the first 10 people.
Jamie was a mean wiffle ball batter. Better than the Sox, at any rate.
Roger and Scott recount the day's adventures.
Mark, John and Dane. Thankfully John was there to show Mark how to use a cell phone.
Dane's a madman!
Christine, Paul and Julia. Christine missed all the fun of the route, but she did get to blast her BMW cage around a track the next day.
Greg goes through his life a little out of focus. Or maybe that was my unsteady hand. No matter, always aim the blame elsewhere!
Julia, mistress of the banana jaffles.
Paul, master of ... who knows.
Self-portrait of the photographer. You have to look closely in Max's glasses to see it, though.
I almost got to see Hilary naked, but she was too fast for me. Darn it.
Rob eschewed the Great Race mentality and opted to spend a while laying in a field, watching the clouds. It was a wonderful plan until the combine came through...
If I'd had a Dole sticker I swear I would have pasted it on the back of Mr. Bill's suit. Why didn't I think to ask Paul and Julia until just now?!
Fredneck, 174 years old and still going strong!
Is it just me, or is the look that Scott's giving Bill just a little too flirty?
Happy happy Holbrooks.
The true raison d'être for Givi racks, mobile hors dourves station! (Er, "beer and chips!")
Four people whose names I am ashamed to admit I didn't get. I suck.
Dwayne finishes setting up his tent.
Steve and Kali, smiling pretty for the camera that got shoved in their faces.
Nancy, apparently suffering the same out-of-focus life crisis as Greg. So sad.
Kate lets the photographer know exactly what she thinks of this whole picture taking endeavor.
Nancy and Kate dance to the rockin' tunes of the band on the flatbed trailer.
Phil looks awfully serious.
Mike, esteemed host of numerous Spring Flings, gets to kick back and enjoy being just one of the regular attendees.
Laurie, engaging in the second most favorite DoD pastime: sucking down the hops!
The flatbed band, who was there to celebrate Old Bristol Days.
Mark, Judith, and a friendly guy who came by to check on our group every 4.5 minutes.
An inchworm buddy on the antenna of a Goldwing from a nearby resident who stumbled upon the fearsome Denizens of Doom.
The friendly neighborhood Goldwing Greeting Crew.