Battle hardened on the west side of the hill, we ride through the underbrush of Vermont's treacherous green mountains with ease.  We train on hills with names such as heartbreak and cemetery.  We are few in number, but lethal and efficient as a swarm of locusts.  We are a band of brothers. We have 29ers and .30-.30s and John Deeres and our legs are filled with gunpowder.  We have bicycles forged in the fires of our ancestors which we shall ride to victory.  We shall ride our steeds to the finish line, and at the finish line lies victory.