So rarely is the hash imbued with as much drama as when it involves disabled vehicles, as this past Sunday's run did. Ever over-ambitious and motor-vehically-challenged, Bottoms Up found a trail so rugged, so muddy, so remote and deserted that even her trusty Land Cruiser was no match for it. Showing true dedication and a sense of priorities truly out of whack, she abandoned the jeep to the wilderness and went on to set a cracking good trail up and down the hills of... what the hell was that place called? I can't remember. Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?

Of course, without wheels the first challenge was getting there, so the pack headed up from Mad Murphy's to Kirova and flagged down a few cars. Two intrepid souls agreed to venture out into the untamed area beyond the city limits for the hashers, but this was half the required number, so they had to send the first two drivers back to pick up the second half of the pack. And even after having endured the company of hashers for the ride, the two drivers agreed to come back in a couple of hours and take everyone back to the on-in. Truly princes among taxi drivers!

However, there was still the matter of the beer, and Pit Row rose to the occasion, bringing her trusty spider Oka to ferry the Tien Shan and the pisspots to the circle.

Not that there was a circle, since basically we were just drinking beer in the middle of the road. After a quick doo-wop ditty rendition of Father Abraham, the runners and walkers went their separate ways.

The runners soon found themselves humming "My Check Is Back And The Hare's Gonna Be In Trouble", traipsing up steep roads only to find a checkback that led them back to the bottom time after time. Finally, with the local paved possibilities exhausted, the pack followed a goat trail up the side of a hillside and was treated with a magnificient view, the first of several. Hillsides, that is. Fanning out along the opposite side of the hill, with the hare unable to locate her own marks, (for which the appropriate measures were later taken in the circle) the trail was finally located, leading downwards and, inevitably and predictably, into a trash dump. What a bouquet!

Back on the road again, the pack thinned out along a long winding road up the second hillside, passing on the way the stranded hulk of the hare's helpless jeep, mired in the mud of a cowpath atop a hill. Leaving it to its own devices, the hounds bore down to cross to the next hillside and another great view, with the TV tower of Cock 2B and even the Kazakhstan Hotel in view from that soggy promontory.

With Wogga Wogga called by the hare, the hounds began wending their way back down a winding country road. The Grand Master and the Hash Piss, somewhat less ambitious except in their laziness, opted for a cowpath that, while more direct, turned out to be far more mud and shit-strewn than the other path, and met up with the walkers after the rest of the runners had already gone by.

With the weather having cleared, and darkness only beginning to threaten, the circle convened in the intersection. The Sock Violation, which had been forgotten the week before, was gotten out of the way early, and of course MC Black Socks was found guilty as usual.

Two virgins (Tanya and Ira) were brought into the fold, and several newcomers were given down-downs for failing to come to the previous hash.

The Erection Run date was announced (October 19, 15:00) and about that time the taxis returned to bring everyone to Mad Murphy's for a magnificient pizza-fueled on-in.