2017 Insane Tour By TD Romy Delima

Part 1 Prologue

The Simple Question

Why do you do what you do?

A friend asked me that question long time ago. Of course what he meant was the yearly extreme biking called the Insane Tour that I always joined where there is no monetary reward waiting. Is the question the same as “Why do men drink? or Why do people smoke?”. Well, I love to answer puzzles until my head felt like splitting, a habit that made me busy and silent when I do so. To answer a difficult question is a challenge that I’ve always enjoyed, and mostly I missed the right answers but I still attempt every now and then even so. Finding the right answer to a question is the ultimate goal but perhaps the seeker may also find joy, like in a math problem, in the struggle towards finding the solution then arriving in an answer, be it wrong or right. The question is simple but what puzzles me, honestly, is that I could not bring myself to answer the simplicity of the question even until now. Sadly, I leave it blank.

For now like many other tour masters, I just continue to submit myself to be subjected to the punishment this tour may inflict, and of course, the joy and satisfaction it may bring afterwards too.

Perhaps someday I could grab the tail of the elusive answer to that eternal simple question….someday perhaps.



The Lance of the Knights

It was many years ago during the age of chivalry of AMTA, where challenge was always quickly accepted, where nobility prevailed over mediocrity, where honor was a badge worn in the heart, where adventure was perpetually sought, where excellence was the aspiration, that too many champions emerged. They were not champions for merely getting first but they were champions for arriving in less than 24 hrs. Those were the fashions of those days, 24 hrs or less. They were the biking knights aiming their lances steadfastly, aggressively leading the peloton onward without fear. That age was sui generis.

As time went by, the fire that drove bikers to do chivalrous feat was quenched. New era Champions settled for way much more than 24 hrs arrival. Some blamed that AMTA bikers were getting sloppy. More adopted the notion that the advanced age was the culprit. I begged to disagree. I say, “No to ageism”. It was been proven that many times that that age, especially advanced age, neither was not an obstacle to touring nor getting on the podium. Complacency corrupted the desires of the hearts of modern bikers in pursuing perfection.

There was a need for new breed of champions to duplicate those previous heroes. I saw a new hope in 2016 Insane tour champion Billy that we can resurrect the golden age again. It was his first attempt, he clocked 26 hrs. And that was more than hope, it was a start.

We invented this tour… we can redeem our lost glory again. I know because I was there. I know because I know we can make that happen.

True indeed, our 2017 Champion Sandy clocked 23hrs-25 minutes.

It was his first attempt too.

Now he holds 3 honors in one event:

1. A rookie

2. A Champion

3. A breaker of 24hrs barrier



And here is the side of my story…..


Part 2 The Accelerated Insane Tour

Atangi!

2017 Round South Practice Tour By TD Romy Delima

November 19, 2017


Our tradition dictates that the Sunday prior to the D-day of AMTA Insane Tour is the dreaded Round South practice ride. As always all the practice rides in preparations for the “Insane Tour” is culminated with this yearly grueling ride, which seemingly is the crowning of thorns to those who wished to become tourmasters, or to those who wanted to do it again….and again. The normal 12 hr ride, which is a tour of its own class, is intended for the physical endurance and mental tolerance of the riders. Then after completion, all the punishing and strenuous activities must stop for a week to give time for the body to recuperate and heal those damaged muscles, and to relax the mind as well.


And here is my side of the story.


A tour not a race

As I mounted my bike after our prayer for protection and graces, I whispered to Allan (my wingman) that our Photon Panther team was in no way going to stop at the usual breakfast venue in Dumanjug. It will take so much time if we stop there, so many bikers to wait on. I planned to eat our breakfast somewhere along the road saving time for my team. And I’d like to live the Photon thing in our team which means “a particle of light whose characteristic is almost always moving”. Yeah, we are supposed to be almost always moving. If it can be helped, we don’t stop somewhere, we don’t stop at all until the finish line.

But eventually I scratched the idea immediately. My conscience was pinched, and it did not allow my scheme to be carried out. We were a team within a big team. Although I was leading my little flock with our own tactical maneuvers, as the Tour Director, I sensed that I still have a responsibility towards the big team. That was what I felt that time. So I opted that I stick to the whole regiment for awhile, then planned to separate after breakfast.

The Thunder Cats A, composed of Abski, Sandy, Dennis, and Bolantoy were side by side with the dynamic duo of Wild Cats Gaya and Carlo, were bringing the peloton to an attack mode, pushing hard and punishing those who can barely kept the fast pace- biking has always been a brutal sports. And it could have been more brutally faster had the two Thunder Cats mean bikers Ernie and Captain Dexter were present in the ride.

Photon panthers Billy, Etcham, and Samsam were also among those who sprinted towards the city of Carcar. They were not denying themselves to the early morning’s moment of temporary glory.

I, Allan, Arnie, and Nino were on a comfortable medium fast pace. I didn’t let the dawn adrenalin rush accelerate our pacing, not just yet or perhaps never at all. This had been a common error to biker to do an early start sprint just because he felt strong, and able to do it anyway. The human body needs gradual progression. There is a fee for abruptness called early bonking. This is a tour not a race. This cannot be done with frequent sprinting. Pacing should be the order of the day.

Nino was alright with the previous two mini tours (TCH and Round North) but his result on this tour was yet to be seen to be a factor on his upcoming Insane Tour. I did not want him to have the notion that a tour is supposed to be won by speed alone. What is speed without endurance? If one cannot sustain one’s speed then what is the point? It was much a long, long way to the finish line yet.

The Thunder Cats B composed of Captain Dondon, Allan P, Orville, and Christian were on our back, not far behind, normally pacing too.

Arriving at rotonda in Carcar City, we found the rest of the Photon Panther waiting for my instructions.

I saw the backs of 4 Dalaguete bikers who mounted without engaging an eye to eye contact with me and sped as soon as they saw us arrived. Later, I learned from Billy that they wanted to join the Insane Tour.

One biker from Carcar joined my team until Dumanjug, and soon will test his pedaling prowess with the Thunder Cats A after our breakfast.

On our way up on the road to Guadalupe, my climb was paced a minimum of 14kph. I was contented with myself doing a rare climbing speed thus making a developed climber in me, I usually biked a 6-8kph uphill. I wished I had another extra hand to pat my back, as my two were gripping the cockpit for more power.

I glanced at my back to look for my wingman Allan who was nowhere in sight. Dropping a friend is not a thing to be happy about but it is part of biking mystery I can never fathom until now. I smiled to myself thinking that he was dropped by me in the climb but that smile was soon lost as quickly as it came when he appeared at my side. I can never out climb him in the climb. He told me that he was side by side with Bimbo who was a slower paced biker than him at the start of the climb. He delegated his circumstantial task to Onyot to accompany Bimbo throughout the tour before he propelled himself towards us. Good thinking, and good riddance as well.

We soon reached our feeding zone at 8:30am and waited for the rest of the touring bikers except for Bimbo and Onyot who we predicted to be late to our waiting time.

Dondon called the attention of the guests bikers but forgot to introduce me to them. Breakfast was served and we ate in haste, of course.

We were ready to saddle when I saw Sandy who was almost on the act of donning his gloves. I left mine at home and was very uncomfortable when my hands became very sweaty. Stupidity came to me even at dawn. My ego was overpowered by my necessity. I asked Sandy to lend me his, as he has a very comfortable grip even without gloves. Of course he can’t refuse the pleading of an old biker.

I told the bikers that it was very important to pedal together with their respective teams for protection, strength, and camaraderie.

Bimbo and Onyot by this time were nowhere still but we started our second lap anyway.

Fully recharged the Thunder Cats A and B, the Wild cats, and those guests were joining forces in spearheading the tour. We could keep up with the fast pacing but we adamantly stayed with our chosen pace. The Photon Panther, though not in speedy mode but as long we were almost always moving, were alright.

Later we caught the peloton at Cawasan resting. And still we kept on moving. A brute feeling visited me again as I was grinning invisibly. I was beginning to love our pacing.

Then unbelievably, we caught the two Straycats Bimbo and Onyot refreshing a few kilometers before Badian proper. I was incredulous on what I saw. How did they overtake us without our knowing? My theory was that they did not eat when we ate in Dumanjug market located interiorly. They just kept on pedaling until hunger caught them at Badian. We just passed them by and gave them encouraging pleasantries.

Soon it was time for us Photon to refuel. With controlled haste, we stopped for bread and soft drinks.

Midway in our snacks, the two Stray Cats passed us by followed shortly by the merged forces of Captain Dondon, Abski’s, and Gaya’s. It was a comrade/opponent style of relationship.

Soon enough we caught all of them except for the two Stray Cats at Malabuyoc town proper, I saw some of them were out of gas.



The Altered State

The Photon kept onward, again, almost always moving. By then it started to rain lightly, enough to make lathers on the cycling shorts of Allan and Arnie. The two happened to be at the front when it happened, so everybody at the back saw it. The harder/faster they pedaled, the more lathers were produced. I felt for my cycling if mine was lathering too, thank God it was not. Allan told the group that that was probably the result of their laundry woman asking them so many bars of soap. Cycling shorts are made with thick soft materials serving as cushion that an improper rinsing may leave that part the storage of soap sediment. We laughed at this home laundry epic fail. It eased our uncomfortable situation for a time, at least.

Some incidents may seem trivial to many, but such is the stuff of our lives. What we did, saw, felt, thought, out there these little things or insignificant events mattered because these became a shared pain or joy to us. We don’t measure distance always by kilometers, but sometimes by moments which vary every moment. A kilometer seemed like eternity to end when we were tired and hungry. Even a tilted, dilapidated or defaced kilometer stone at the roadside can change one’s hopeful mode. A moment of flat tire can either be a blessing of rest or can be a frustration. It depends on how you wanted it to be. But sure enough, a downhill is a downhill, and everybody kept “whee-ing”, even on their minds. Long touring, or even spending too much time on the saddle can be a character builder, or can be a tantrums inciter.

We hoped to catch the Stray Cats before the town of Ginatilan but we could not find them. Second question: How fast were they moving that we can’t even see their backs? I wondered until arriving at Santander when I predicted they quit somewhere. It was preposterously impossible for them to bike that fast. And later after the tour, they admitted quitting somewhere in Malabuyoc. They instructed local boys to call our attentions to make us stop along the road where they took some coconuts. Truly I noticed some boys making noise and waving at us to stop but I thought they were just members of our local bike fans club everywhere encouraging us to go faster.

The boys from Dalaguete were our ever comrade/opponent by that time. We exchanged leadership in spearheading from time to time. They ate lunch somewhere in Bato while we pushed towards our usual lunch place in Santander to wait for the rest of the tourers.

We were a minute to our lunch venue when Bolantoy ,and the biker from Carcar were in tandem passed by our group. Bolantoy casually told us that he had to speed up onward for his Sunday laundry chores, it was 12:05nn. I chuckled. This guy is impossible.

We took our lunch then prepared for a long rest for the waiting of the rest of the bikers. My previous Gurkha biker Raffy along with his brother Sidro was on our tail since morning, and caught us up after our lunch. They started late for they were coming from Lapulapu City. They told us that the rest of the group we were waiting took their lunch at Bato. So quickly I changed plan and called to prepare to saddle immediately. There was no point of waiting for regrouping now. The fast pacing was beaten by the constancy of our normal-but-not-too-slow-pacing.

Our team and the biker from Dalaguete continued our friendly mode of changing leadership in going to Oslob until somebody at the back told me that Billy was far behind the small peloton and was not feeling well. We gave up the game to them. We decided to let Billy quit and ride in Oslob. It was decided but then when we arrived there, he said that he will continue the 104 kms homeward.

So we continued but Billy was getting slower and weaker. It was a wrong decision to prolong the agony. But I was thankful enough that he did not ride in Oslob for I did not decide to ride with him. I felt sorry too for my wrong decision not to accompany him. It was decided again that at Boljoon he must ride, and I will be with him for sure to home.

There we caught the bikers from Dalaguete resting again. And the rest of the Photon panther continued their journey without me and Billy. I entrusted to Allan our two nephews, Samsam and Nino who were beginners in touring business. That was 2:30pm.



Homebound at last

We were waiting for 30 minutes in Boljoon when the Thunder Cats A and the Wild Cats (Dexter, Abski, Sandy, Dennis, along with Gaya and Carlo) arrived. The leader of the Thunder Cat A, Captain Dexter did catch up with his group somewhere in Bato lunching. Another more or less 30 minutes, Dondon’s bonked team arrived. One of them had a situation needing a relief, asap.

I returned the gloves to its owner before my bus ride. We managed to be on a Ceres bus with the great help of Captain Gaya, who was almost on the center of the road to block the bus for our ride.

We arrived home 7:30pm while my Photon Panther team arrived 8:00pm.

Bolantoy arrived at 6:00pm.

Dexter’s team and Gaya’s arrived almost simultaneously with Photon as they were supping at Naga.

Captain Dondon and his cohorts, Orville, Allan, and Christian arrived at 11:00pm.

Noy Eli was reported that he started his tour at 6:00am at the station, biked alone, and arrived at 12:00 midnight.

This is an insane way to prepare for something insane. It just suits.

I hope that this writer has inspired readers to dust off their own untold stories as this is just one side, my side of the story.


The end.

The tour, the insane and the day after. (2017) by Albert Delima

I did not make it,my southern sphincter is demanding attention..it pains me but I'll just live in my past glory days to console myself.

Wait a minute, the insane tour is a success story, a struggle, yes but not an excuse story.

Forget my story.

The Tour.

My highest respect to those who mastered it with class. Brilliantly calculating everything..
And to the young guns who cleverly use their youth and fresh agility ... Cheers!

And then the day after, as we lick our wounds, as we wipe the mud in our face, as we playback our struggle, one thing we should not forget that we are still inside the euphoric bubble of excitement.
We've seen, heard and said things differently.We all have it.
And sometimes these internal aftereffects influence later behavior; our behavior right after.

"The Residual Experience".And it's normal and unavoidable as having flat tire along the stretch.

Again, my highest respect to those who dare and make it.
And to all the people who make it happen..

Long Live Amta!!

Albert Delima

Team Wildcats

2017 Insane Tour Training Ride by TD Romy Delima

Part 1

TCH (TransCentral Highway, Balamban)

The great wall, the great divide

November 5, 2017 Sunday 5:00am

I don’t go out much to take a spin. I rely on my trainer (roller) as my source of strength and endurance. I take pride of my record as the king of the trainer. I can sit on it longer than anybody reported. As for my personal record, I did a 4-hr roll non-stop on my trainer 12 years ago when I headed the first C-130 in 2005. And that was the peak of my biking career as I pushed some bonked bikers doing the Insane Tour back then.

Now it is different. My strength is waning and only for myself. Surely I can push but endangering myself to bonking. Nowadays I can only ride the trainer 45 minutes maximum.

I thought my hard days are over after last year when I brought along my only son Billy who miraculously spearheaded the tour, but it is far from over. It started when I was informed that my nephew Samsam will participate in this year’s tour. And he wants to be at my tail always. I feel old to babysit, and moreover, I was planning to cut my time of arrival this year. But I agreed anyway, and took the job.

To make things more complicated and harder for me, my nephew Nino expressed his desire to do the same. What the heck. So I accepted the additional job.

The only easy day was yesterday.

I will be riding shotgun for these two young believers.

So I started the education and training of the normal youths who want to go insane. Inch by inch I brought them to the threshold of insanity in biking.

When I arrived at the station for our TCH tour, it was 15 to 5, and was still slightly dark. I was searching for my team among the silhouettes of bikers who were busy talking while some are seemingly, as always, on a products seminar- a never ending discussion of the latest gadgets of bicycles.

Then off we went. I was focusing on my two precious bikers only. Billy was responsible enough, he is a certified tourmaster. He can now help teaching them both of the touring trade.

As it got lighter, I saw familiar faces. And it was crystal clear that I was the most senior biker of them all. I was 4 times older than the youngest biker. I was proud for my anti-ageism stance but I shuddered to the thought that we will be traversing the great wall, the great divide…. hours ahead. If only my age can be translated to kilometers per hour then I won’t be worried.

“Lord, give me a thousand flat kilometers, and deliver me not to this wall.”

I was left behind during the climb in Apid, Uling with Dondon in front of me. Apid climb was his only aim that day and he backtracked leaving me alone but managed to catch front lead before they arrived at Magdugo. I have an 84 kph on my odometer long time ago on a downhill. And I kept reminding myself in times liked that.

Christian, the VECO contractor biker, is always a playful guy, and was doing his thing on the stretch to Balamban. Everybody seemed happy that he was in the peloton.

My first meeting with Christian was when we were in a peloton towards Uling, and he was always changing lanes and seatmates. I planned to talk to him in private but I was so angry that I confronted and reprimanded him instead upon arriving. Lessons for him were harsh that first meeting. I felt guilty, though.

Once, while halfway in a climb towards the big downhill of Aloguinsan mountain, I forcibly stopped the climbing peloton. I was itching to lower the seat post of Christian, and had to do it there, no matter what. I shouted for a hex screw, and told him not to complain. The next adjustment was to be after the downhill, so as to gradual the effect. He should be thankful to me after that.

Later during our climb in Media Once, I had no more gas, as always in any climb. I am a lousy climber. I, Christian, and Dondon were dropped by everybody. And we became instant comrades by circumstance. Again, Christian was in his playful mode that he was trying to wheelie while we climbed as if he was not bonked too. I shouted, “I have enough of this. Let us walk.”

We walked and we talked. Christian seriously said that he was a contractor. I said, “How is that so?” He said, “I am a contractor because I signed a contract as a maintenance serviceman with VECO.” I, and Dondon could not help laughing. I said, “You mean you are a Contractual.” Then we became friends.

Nearing Balamban, we forgot for awhile the wall ahead as everybody was joining the joking, taunting, teasing, and friendly competition that was going on, and Christian was at the center of it all.

After our breakfast, we stopped by for our provisions for the big climb. We can’t carry enough water, so we drank much what we bought. No amount of water is enough. We need more, more, more water.

The woe

As I prepared to climb, I took a pee. Everybody was gone in a flash, except those who lingered with me, Samsam, Billy, Kevin, Denden, Sandy, and Allan Pujida. Nino flew with the stronger ones. I was looking for reasons to slow down, and found one big and enough reason to stop. I thought my rear tire was pinched. Kevin inspected and concurred. I was delighted. I bought time.

Then off we went. My aides were gone too in a flash. I was alone, but I was alright for awhile. As I was approaching the infamous Cansomoroy, my pedaling drastically changed from worse to worst to impossible. I had to push upward. I summoned what was left of my power but was humiliated by the hill.

The Whoa

I can’t bike anymore. Whoa, whoa….but I have to go on.

There was only one way to do it. Walk the bike.

In all my years of climbing this mountain, it was always on foot. I have always conquered it but through walking. I felt no honor was lost. I always have great respect to this great big hill.

It was not a simple walk. You walked pushing the bike while climbing, travelling 1-3 kph. Pedaling using the granny gear propel you to at least 4kph. So, logically it is better to pedal than to walk. Why walk when you can granny? Ok, tell that to a dying or maybe dead biker walking.

I thought I was the last man walking but a hundred paces behind me was Allan struggling, one step at a time. I heard the sound of metal of his cleats against the pavement in that distance. I never stopped to wonder why a bonked biker is happy to see another bonked one. It is not brutality in a person. It is a mystery on misery. Misery loves company.

At last, a hundred meters I saw the DPWH building. I sighed, relieved for awhile. It was small heaven for tired travelers seeing a haven.

There, all was waiting except Gaya who pushed more distance. We shared jokes, worries, food, but not water. There was none left to share. We hired a habalhabal to get us some water far uphill. Minutes went by, when we heard news from another habalhabal that a biker far up ahead had an accident. He was wearing a “somewhat-Pnoenix-jersey”, the report said. We were startled. I told the strong bikers to check it out.

The order of the chase commenced right away, and they were gone in a flash leaving a small flock, my circumstantial flock of six tired bikers.

We really struggled uphill. We biked when we can, we walked we can’t bike. Biked, walked, biked, walked, biked, the action-mantra was the order of the day.

Woe we were but we were determined to go on despite of our misery. Nino who jokingly shouted, “Mama, fetch me. I want to go home now.” I said, “Yes, we will be going home alright but we are taking the long uphill way home.” By that time, we hadn’t taken our lunch yet. It was past 1pm, and still we were looking for food.

Finally, we had our ears of corn at Cantipla. It was another heaven.

The wheee

Having passed all the up hills of the great big hill, having lunched as well was a joy that sent us whee-ing all the way down. We were like 10-year-old boy on his new bike again. I could not help propel faster than my little flock so I opted to stay at the middle. Denden, who was following Nino’s wheel, did fistful of brakes upon seeing he was about to touch wheel to wheel thus sending him down on the middle of a winding slope near Willie’s. We were doing 35-40 kph. He was in front of me, so collision was inevitable, if I don’t do something. Automatically, I did the fistful of brakes too but seasoning the front with the rear, my wheels stopped inch from him and his bike. To avoid impact, I let myself dropped sidewise (my right side) upon stopping. I was not able to bail out, with the grace of God, no damage on us and on our bikes.

Then our TCH tour practice was done. We were like “a woman who gave birth” forgetting all the pain afterwards, and all was only joy.

Next: The round north practice ride story.

Insane Tour 2017 by TD Romy Delima

Every passionate biker knows the 23 days of July, where  the 21 segments of this tour cover almost 3500 kms., and is considered the most grueling and demanding sports event  on this planet so far. It is a pure suffer- fest.

The Allied Mountain Trekkers and Adventurers (AMTA) have its own humble little version of suffer-fest called Insane Tour. It is a tour around the island of Cebu, in one (1) segment, in 24 hr or less covering  540 kms. It will be an understatement, or I may say disrespectful, when passionate bikers hearing this kind of tour react by only shrugging their shoulders without complimenting nice words.

Bikers considered Insane Tour’s unique  sense of almost impossible demand in biking style to be sui generis, an original, the only one on its type.

This year is our 16th  Insane Tour. I missed only one (1) tour, and succeeded much  more  than I failed. I have so many tours that  I could get a doctorate degree on insanity biking. I am 59 years old though this figure cannot be translated into kph, is too much  against ageism. One can find Insane Touring as an embarrassment to young bikers who don’t learn patience and power consumption.

I will be riding shotgun for my two young nephews, Samsam and Onin for their first glimpse to insanity. If they could finish this then they have the right to boast about it just like what I am doing now.

As its tradition, the two (2) Sundays preceding the tour is reserved for two (2) tours- (the round north and the round south) as preparations for the big one. This year’s tour is considered an “Accelerated Insane tour” as the participants are strongly organized, more  experienced, and more  determined to go faster thus making  their tour time shorter. So I opted to add another

little tour, The “Transcentral Highway tour” (TCH), to insure the bikers their additional endurance.

This tour (TCH) is a class of itself when in full route  called the “Fool on the hill”, but Aloguinsan road is omitted (for training purposes, and for the great  respect to the Wall) cutting more  or less

80 kms. to its original distance. But it is agony, still.

In every endeavor one needs luck to be successful. To complete the “Insane tour” one needs more  than luck.  One needs to train seriously subjecting his every muscle in his body to embrace suffering, to stretch its tolerance to pain. The muscles have memory. Every physical exertion of the body is doing great  for that  muscle memory, making  it smarter. The more  the muscle is fed with traumatic experience of pain and of suffering, the more  it will remember to use that

memory continuing to accept and allow the pain thus prolonging its tolerance to suffering. And I

can say without  hesitation that  luck favors more  to those who trained hard and suffered much.

“He who knows how to die before death comes will not die when death comes.”

-a Saint whose name I forgot.

Training all body parts, not just zeroing  only the muscles of the knees and legs, including the

shy butt that  has muscles as well is not only important but rather  essential. The three  (3) points of contact in biking are the hands on the cockpit, the soles on the pedals, and the precious silent butt on the saddle.  The numbness of the hands, the burning feelings on the sole, and the soreness of the butt are crying and pleading for mercy. They all clamor for equality of TLC. Neglecting one is courting disaster.

After the muscles prep comes the mental conditioning. This varies as each biker has different level of mental aptitude. But setting a norm of mental levelness through focusing on the same goal, i.e. to join and finish the tour, is logical to battle the inequality.  Some  maybe intimated upon seeing others using high ends stuffs. It is not all about the bike. Not even those fancy jerseys.  One only has to be concerned mostly with his attitude towards the tour. It builds character. How? By achieving what one perceives, mentally.  Bike mentally  the 540 kms. Being

physically present in the battlefield is war half won. The other  half is determined how one fights, mentally.

The most of the suffering part is yet to come on November 25, 2017 but the fest or feast part had already  begun since day 1 when this tour was opened. Agog riders were already  having the time of their lives crisscrossing all roads and trails for training. There were so many meetings with their respective teams formulating strategies to ensure success. And feasting is always the center of activities, sometimes imitating  a triathlon…. Eat, drink, and bike.

And here is the practice rides of the 2017 Insane Tour……

Atangi lang.