The Rusty Springs Hash started in front of the Randalls at the intersection of Wilcrest and Westheimer in far west Houston. This run fell close to the one year anniversary of Pitts and Pinball's last haring attempt which featured the infamous Grolsch beer check (more on that later). Pitts disappeared from the start and left it up to Pinball to give the pack instructions. The only thing she said of significance -- her cousin would be found handcuffed somewhere on trail.

Horny Hot Rod Ball Creamers Hog Wild Suck-Off Dickfest

I always enjoy hashes that start off by crossing 8 lanes of fast moving traffic, and that is exactly what this one did as trail led us north across Westheimer. The first 20 or 30 minutes of this trail consisted of mainly pavement running through the suburbs of west Houston. There was an unmistakable trend in the trail, heading in stair step fashion in a northwest direction. This gave the impression that we were headed for Buffalo Bayou and a few pitiful hashers (led by Geek) fell for this trap. Fortunately, I did not, and the trail soon turned due south and headed straight back to Westheimer and the end of pavement.

This part of the trail was obviously laid with the vertically impaired in mind (no doubt by Pinball), as I spent the rest of the afternoon crouching under branches and briars and what turned out to be poison ivy. The trail crossed a road and hit a backcheck that screwed up the pack for quite a while. Eventually marks were found and we came to what I believe this runs name was derived from -- the rusty springs. Actually the springs were a series of scum covered ponds. Bully was seen skipping (or was it prancing?) through the middle of one of them. A little while later, trail left the dirt road we were running on and crossed a barbed wire fence into some more shiggy. The hound up front (I think it was Lube Job) saw a large W with an arrow and was in the middle of yelling "water" when he crashed into the fence. ouch. We finally emerged from the shig and hit the requisite railroad tracks that would lead us to the On Home on an abandoned bridge.

Most of the pack made it in within 1 1/2 hours except for those who had opted to run straight for the Bayou. They continued to straggle in throughout (and after) down downs. Most notable of these was Hooter Bill whose post trail debriefing continued for the next several hours -- "Where did you go from the ....", "How did you beat me in?" etc. There were several new boots -- Mark, Goes Both Ways made him come. Margie, her sister made her come. Kathy (Margie's sister) made herself come. And finally, there was Walt. Cums Daily accuses Mighty Mouse of fondling marathoners at the hash mile the previous weekend. She has printed evidence which refers to a "small brown man who grabbed my butt". Although the source was hardly reliable the hash found Mouse guilty. The hares went to retrieve the imported beers from the beer check that was never found. All was consumed, and we headed for the On On On at Danny's Sports Bar.

A brief history of the Grolsch beer check. At Pitts and Pinball's hash last year, the pack stumbled upon a case and a half of Grolsch beer at a bank drive-thru near Willowbrook Mall. Assuming that it had been placed there by the hares, we commenced to drinking and in a matter of minutes had finished it off. We placed the bottles neatly back in the empty cases and continued on our way. Only later did we find out that the hares had not put it there. In similar fashion, we arrived at Danny's to find a buffet of steaming barbecue. A feeding frenzy erupted and in a matter of seconds the food was gone. We later discovered that the food was there for a non-hashers anniversary party. Thats a good place to end this one...

On On,

Baby Huey

ps. Pinball, what happened to the cousin in handcuffs?