I was running a little late, so rather than try to get to Echo Park in time to start with the group, I hunkered down on Cesar Chavez under the Hill Street Bridge and cracked a beer. It was raining pretty steadily now, and I had some sleeping bums to keep me company. I finished up my beer, took a leak, and next thing I know a bunch of little blinking lights crest the hill to my right and the ride is on. They whoop and holler like cheerleaders as I jump into the lead, but I'm cool. I don't feel like whooping just yet, nor do I feel like faking it. Red light at the bottom of the hill and some guy nearly slides into a car. With a steady pose he makes it look like he meant to do it, but I'm pretty sure he didn't.

The ride was thoroughly wet, the bright side being that precipitation tends to filter out the douche-bags on these big rides. Termination point was the little store front Bike Oven, and behold there's a real live band there ready to rock. The place is packed, of course, because it's raining and about 150 people on bikes just showed up.

"We need people to sing. We're playing AC/DC tunes and we have some lyrics printed."

Holy Crap. I know better than to be cool in this situation. This is something I definitely want to do, and if I let somebody else do it first I'll never have the nerve to get up there and I'll spend the rest of the night feeling anxious, but trying to pretend I'm fine. I grab the mic and the lyrics and stand there drinking my High Life while the band finishes getting ready. Of course, people are saying shit to me, feeling me out. I'm not nervous. The situation is far too unreal. They laugh at my little jokes and the band starts up with Back in Black.

Holy shit they sound exactly like AC/DC!?!?!

No lyric sheet for this one. Luckily, I spent most of the 6th grade listening to this song. I'm moving. I'm grooving. I'm pumping my whole body because this shit sounds good and I'm right in the middle of it. Time to sing and I scream the shit as crazy metal as I can. My voice can't do what Brian Johnson's can, and I know it, but what I lack in technique I make up for in enthusiasm. I am sincere as fuck, having a blast screaming my guts out jumping around, and the room is loving it. People are singing along and taking pictures, running video. I don't know all the words, so I freestyle the entire second verse. I know how it's supposed to sound, though, so I frame my words around the originals and man, it was a sick freestyle. I don't know if anybody noticed. The song ends and I'm shaking my whole body like James Brown in a sardine can while the band hammers on the last note. I pass the mic off, head outside, and smoke a cigarette under some awning while my legs turn to jelly.