Monthly Archives: May 2005

Sugar the bit please…

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Artist Todd Simmler, Bend Oregon Posted by Hello

As they say at the West Virginia Surf Report,
I have to lower my nuts into the vise for a few hours this morning.
in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this photograph.

You better, it’s art bitch!

A few hours later-

Wow, for the last couple of weeks work has been quiet, and I was lulled into a dream in which I rode my bike, drank beer, played darts, and wrote this, this, whatever it is.

I should have been tipped off by the conspicuous lack of sponsorship money.

Not a dime from Jamis, zero from Guiness. Of course I’m still hopeful that Sam Adam’s Light will want to get in on the act once they realize the extent of the mutation I’m undergoing with their assistance, but for now I have to work.

It seems like work and life are drawing the whole crew out of our manchild fantasy of chains slapping stays, conferencing with coach out on the trail, and answering the questions When do you want to ride? and Where do you want to ride? with the stock answers of Whenever! and
Wherever!

Sasquatch expects me to react with gloom and doom, fire and brimstone, hell and damnation, and I predictably have. I am drawn to the half-empty glass like a moth to a flame. I’m sure that he’s right. The dust will settle, summer routines will evolve, and life in Rideville will be happy once again. Being a single man, who works from home, destined for a lonely pauper’s grave, I have more time to ride, and to wax quixotic about my heroic exploits on the trails of North Florida, yet still, even I have to work.

I don’t mind really, just put a little sugar on the bit please.

See you on the trails, Juancho

Reluctant tourist

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the open road Posted by Hello

In the interest of being a good riding partner and friend, I showed up at the S’quatch family compound at 8:30 A:M yesterday, my ears still ringing from a white wine spritzer hangover. As if that didn’t threaten my self-image enough, I was unloading a bike with skinny tires from the back of my red, Barbie dream truck. Well, I thought to myself, I guess I’m a teen-aged girl now. Who knows, maybe this life will be better than the last one.

Impressively, I see Sasquatch lurking outside his den, suited up and ready. he is growling and
assuming a variety of aggressive postures, substantial brow furrowed.

At this point I’m pretty much counting on a mechanical to save me. I am riding a frankenbike which I assembled the day before, while downing gallons of white wine spritzers. There’s no way this thing will make it 50 miles, No WAY!

Here’s a breakdown of what I roll with…

1989 Jamis Dakar 17″ frame. (The red one)
Kona Project 2 straight fork.
Circa 89 Shimano XT/ Suntour XC combo drive train/
XT thumb shifters
Shimano 600 freewheel
Front hub-American Classic
Back hub- Ancient LX
Ritchey Logic brakeset
Race Face bar/straight/ some kind of bar ends?

The front deraileur cable was locked into place by about 2 steel threads, so I was kind of counting on it to be the first to go.

We rolled off into a dewey morning, grumpy, irritable, and scowling. Sasquatch didn’t get enough sleep and wasn’t impressed with the limited, VERY limited, social exchanges available at the BIG RING CIRCUS headquarters the previous night. Since I actually live here, I didn’t want to hear it. Oh well, soon my bike would break and we could call it a day.

Instead, somewhere under the canopy of Oaks, the chardo-pinot-blancignon began to seep from my pores, (hmmm, a subtle hint of rancid, with a fragile bouquet of fecal veneer, lovely!)

You can read Sq’atch’s synopsis in the comments section, and yes, we had a good ride. 50 miles on slick tires is about as hard as 18 miles on the dirt, or something like that. Here is the equation I use to figure that out

4kg9otk7k8096904/ 14%
_________________

127 + x2 = 50 miles of road or 18 miles of dirt singletrack.

Don’t believe me? Check the math for yourself.

The frankenbike responded to the helm. Not only did it not break down, it ran fast. Squatch’s wife, Squawtch, called it homely, and I swear it lunged at her.

And now he wants to ride to Ichetucknee Springs, in the summer, and back the next day.

Dude, get a grip.

The greatest upgrade-

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It’s Alive! Posted by Hello

I was once told that if you want to know what it is like to own a boat, you should get in a cold shower and start tearing up $100 bills.

Owning a bicycle, and actually riding it hard, is not that different. Aside from the necessary expenses that trickle money out of your pocket on a regular basis such as tubes, lube, CO2 cartridges (which I am sick and tired of using) chains, cables, grips, bananas, power bars, red bull (should be illegal, must be dangerous) brake pads, and plenty of COLD BEER, there are the things we want- cool new jersey, cool new saddle, cool new bar-ends, basically anything cool and new. We also nurture a never-ending wish list that starts at a new set of cranks (Race Face for me) and runs upward to a titanium AND Full-suspension Moots frame.

All of the alchemy surrounding the proper combination of gear, training, and nutrition can become as complicated as the above sentence. On any given day though, there is one simple upgrade that can make you marginally faster than the day before.

G-U-T-S, guts.

So, I pose another question to my anonymous teeming hordes (stay back, stay back there’s plenty for everyone!)

What if your current 100% effort, is quite honestly your 90%, or even 70% effort, and it just hurts too fucking bad to find out?

Wash it down with turpentine.

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The key to performance is proper nutrition.

That’s why I am switching to Samuel Adam’s Light beer. It is still expensive enough to make me feel like I’ve “made it” and can afford to waste my money, while still separating myself from the NASCAR class through sheer affected snobbery. I intend to come ripping out of the fat suit this summer, and release my inner water bug. I have considered many options, with white wine spritzers running a close second, if that’s not commitment I don’t know what to tell you.

In addition, I have canceled the cable television. That’s right, cold turkey. It was just supposed to be a frivolous winter fling between Comcast and I, but I’m afraid it has gotten serious.
When I called to issue my cease and desist order, the helpful drone on the other end, requested an explanation. I told her I didn’t want cable because I stayed up until 1:00 A:M last night watching The Deadliest Catch. Three straight hours of dirty men getting seasick, maimed, and killed in order to bring King Crab legs to the tables of pig-out buffets globally. I became especially unnerved as I sat drinking and smoking, watching them drinking and smoking. I thought smugly, what a bunch of losers, then they would take a drink, and I would take a drink. They would tell a joke, and I would laugh like I was there. They would light a smoke, then I would light a smoke. Apparently I am highly susceptible to suggestion.

Unless of course one of my good friends is suggesting something helpful, or positive to me, then I don’t want to hear it.

Part three in the “Escape the Fat Suit” campaign is watching hot women at the local gym while I sit on some machine I can’t comprehend the purpose of, or “going to the gym”. I’m not sure how this is supposed to help, but I have it on good authority that it does.

At least they have T.V. there. Posted by Hello

Beware the evil fruit of unholy unions

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Have you ever seen the offspring of a goat and a dog? No? What about a chicken and a man? Disgusting right? Nature has built in protections to stop the development of such grotesque and disturbing creatures. Lucky Nature. For bicycles, there is no omniscient overseer, no fail-safe plan, no moral code. If you can conceive it, someone can build it, and often the outcome is no less hideous than a young kid/puppy with its yellow eyes, horns and wagging tail, bleating and barking for tin cans and puppy chow late into the night.

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that trying to be all things for all occasions ultimately dilutes the ability to perform anything exceptionally well and at best sires a culture of mediocrity. Just look at AOL/Time/Warner.

So when I read that a particular bicycle is “great for running to the grocery store during the week, and still rugged enough to hit the trails on Saturday” I know this machine is nothing more than a shellacked turd.

So I ask you, gentle readers, is there room for innovation? Think about it, if a rabbit and a cat mated, the offspring might be cute, right? A bunny that jumps in your lap and purrs, chases moths around the room, that sounds pretty sweet right? So are there other possibilities that achieve the same success as a cute kitty/bunny? Like what about converting your 29’er mountain bike into a road machine? What are the unintended consequences of fucking with Nature? The goal of owning one machine that converts to whatever ride conditions are on the daily agenda sounds like an honorable effort, but at what cost?

I refer you to the cautionary tale, Frankenstein, so that we may all consider the consequences of pursuing glory at any cost. Posted by Hello

Happy Mother’s Day

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Here is a nice picture of a woman, smartly appointed, and proud of her bicycle. She may be an agent of the Postal Service, I’m not sure. Of course, you are probably expecting me to make some comparison between her style of dress and road bikers. It would also not surprise anyone if I alluded to a similarity between this woman, her nice bike, and S’quatch and his nice bike. It is unfortunate that this forum would so quickly degenerate into a low-brow, mudslinging, divisive atmosphere. Our mothers would be ashamed.

As your host, I personally promise to hold this dialogue to the highest standard of public discourse, or whatever.

See you bitches on the trail.

Love, Mom. Posted by Hello