This war, this long stinky brutal war, has been rumbling just over the horizon for months.  Everyone knew the date of the first fight and the groundwork had been laid.  Recon missions utilizing satellite technology combined with stealth surveillance 'dry' runs gathered prewar intelligence of the first battlefield, the Bronx.  Hundreds if not thousands of self loathing physical conditioning miles were compiled.  Alliances formed and enemies made.  Every war starts with a single battle and this one started with 'Rumble Thru the Bronx 4'.  

I enlisted my services as soon as the call to duty was made.  From my deadly arsenal I chose the most potent weapon, the Look 595. If I was to survive I would need any and all firepower I could muster up.  This is perhaps the first 595 in existence to be called into active duty on the urban battlefield.  My allies included Lee and Heidi as they helped gather pre race data and route logistics.  Thru the karmatic gesture of sharing pre-race intelligence with Mark I was able to obtain a can of Sparks which was needed to immortalize our fallen comrade Bronx Jon.  

Over one hundred strong urban warriors arrived at 155th and St Nick for their chance at glory.  The field's ranks were deep, experienced, and blood thirsty.  My choice of weaponry was drawing nervous glances from my foes but I knew nothing about this day was going to be easy.  Commander Mike D led the field on a chant filled one hundred bike salute and the race was unleashed.  I struck first leading the charge to Yankee stadium with a well timed attack.  The pace was instantly ballistic as my speedometer hit 45mph as I careened opposite direction down the highway exit ramp.  On Sedgewick I decided to pick my battles wisely and sucked into the draft of Drew (generic) who was spending a lot of gold coins pulling the field.  He pleaded for help but I held tightly onto his wake.  The top five bunched up for checkpoint numero uno as we arrived together.  At the park we entered the trenches for some hand on hand combat as we were shuffled like POW's through a caged carousel.  It wasn't long before panic ensued and the prisoners revolted  by bolting over barriers and using violence as a form of escape.  Victor the cunning veteran from many past wars snaked his way to the front of the field and as I cut him off we smashed heads viscously.  I was briefly shell shocked but regained control and escaped the park in 3rd position.

I quickly dispatched Victor and made my way up Fordham with Crihs in tow.  In order to avoid needless civilian collateral damage I flanked Grand Concourse by sneaking down University to Kingsbridge Rd.  This turned out to be a tactical error as I emerged on Grand Concourse surrounded by enemies.  Leaving the wide avenue I witnessed these soldiers willingness to die in battle.  Raf Negron crossed the Parkway within inches of losing his life by dashing across the front of a speeding school bus.  I chose life and backed off slightly arriving to Williamsbridge somewhere near the bottom of the top ten.  At Williamsbridge we were forced to fight tooth and nail up a steep muddy embankment only to turn around and slide down a smooth rock embankment to the manifest stamper.  I made it up to the top, slide down, and was body slammed by a horde of racers hell bent on getting their stamp.  My body was clawed from head to toe and my manifest ripped to shreds.  

Shaking it off, I retreated back to the Parkway and headed south straight for the next fight.  The race again molded into one lead group.  The roads bended around the Bronx Zoo grounds and the field spread slightly apart.  Victor refused to be shaken and skitched his way back to the front.  Entering the Zoo checkpoint the conspiracies started as six riders behind me got stamps first as I panicked watching seconds disappear.  Finally the checkpoint attendant gave way and I was off towards Crotana Park.  This part of the race was dense and I made little time on the leaders who at this point were Jersey Dan and Crihs.  I was stalked by Victor and another soldier with a blue vintage jersey.  Traffic was kind and I made it to the checkpoint in third or fourth position.  Next was a long slog in a big gear down Crotana encountering a few war reporters taking footage for their nightly CNN war report.  Victor again emerged like a shadow emerging from a smoke screen on the wings of a four wheeled beast.  Off in the near distance Jersey Dan and Crihs inched away.  Longwood and the rain soon came and I once and for all dispatched Victor at the Beck checkpoint.  Torturously we were forced to down a cup of burning hot coffee which felt like napalm running down my chest.  My scream of pain was amplified by the emergence of Austin's bright orange war machine entering the picture.  I was in no time in getting the fuck out of there as I knew a storm was brewing behind.

Leaving Beck in the distance I witnessed carnage brought on by the damp roads.  Fernando hit the deck on Longwood and appeared dazed.  I paid little attention and offered no sympathy as I snuck up the Fox hole to 163rd and over to Buckner.  An eerie silence fell upon the race as I was all alone.  Where did everyone go?  I hit Soundview Park checkpoint in what I was told to be the lead.  I was signature number one on the list quickly followed by Austin who had destroyed the gap that separated us.  We left the scene together and took turns pulling a hard pace down to the Whitestone Theatre.  We both easily made the treacherous intersection and left Whitestone snaking through the grass and onto the bike path.  At this point I moved back in front as Austin had lost his bearings deep inside enemy territory.  Unfortunately I was the rabbit he needed to chase and I had little negotiating power to escape his evil clutches.  I led (with a weak attempt to fake him out) mountain bike style onto the Highway and a free ride straight onto Westchester.  I took the mirror of a car as I dug deep to keep in contact.  The march down Westchester was gritty and I slowly lost my grip on Austin's wheel.  I fought back and arrived at Bronx John just a few seconds behind but in serious crisis.  Sparks went flying as I was informed that we were third and fourth.  Apparently Jersey Dan and Crihs escaped Soundview without detection or documentation, the cause? We'll never know.  

Austin again threw down the gauntlet and opened up a sizable gap.  My legs hadn't felt good all day and were not about to start now.  Heading right on City Island Parkway the gap to Austin was around ten seconds.  I caught a skitch and was catapulted 50mph right back onto his rear wheel.  I fought against certain defeat to stay up with him down City Island but again I was dropped.  The good news was that this dual had closed down the gap to Jersey Dan and Crihs.  With the leaders right in front of me I solicited a skitch from a large SUV piloted by an even larger female driver.  First she freaked out and hit the brakes.  Then upon request to speed up she nailed the throttle almost ripping my arm off in the process.  I arrived at the point of City Island only a few hundred yards behind my targets.  They were in my sights and I was ready for the kill.  All I needed was some fucking gunpower!

My heart was in it but my legs weren't up for the task.  I fought hard up City Island, grabbed a skitch off a VW and closed in, however far too slowly to make strike.  Heading to the finish, first and second were lost.  A wheel to wheel drag race with Crihs was also just out of my grip.  The battle was over; I was defeated by the skin of my teeth.  Ground was taken way in the campaign but the war is far from over.  I'll be back for Broadway Bombing with guns blazing for yellow.