You’ll be able to see the difference as Frost Your Tits Off cycle rally meets balmy temps

Its the new kid on the motorcycle rally block, but she doesn’t look like your kid sister.
Taking its place alongside the male-reference Frost and Unfrost Your Nuts runs is the second annual Frost Your Tits Off rally, even though this is still very early in October and the temps are expected to be quite balmy.
The woman drawn in the flyer seen about the various nightspots around town is quite busty, fitting the part, for the event that’s scheduled to start at noon Sunday, leaving the ample parking lot at Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse. Other stop-in places locally include the Village Inn in North Hudson and Uncle Mike’s Em Pour E Yum in the town of Hudson near the truck stop.
Also now jumping into that game is Season’s Tavern in North Hudson, where they expect 15 to 30 patrons from the run, depending on weather conditions — expect it to be warm and dry — and they can enjoy the number of the usual day-time specials that cater to the Bloody Mary crowd. These patrons also, like most stops on the route, are eligible to win gift cards via a raffle drawing. Last year’s attendance at Season’s was on the upper end of that couple-dozen range. The cyclists usually stay for an hour or two at such places, then venture on to the next stop. This rally is different than many because the participating stops are all within a few miles of each other, with the Season’s south end of North Hudson being an apex, and are scooter and moped friendly for the main drag. The run nears a conclusion, again, over at Big Guys BBQ and those venturing late to Dick’s Bar and Grill get various food and drink specials.
All profits are donated to charity, and entry shirts are $75 on the day of the rally.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Scroll to Top