Monthly Archives: September 2006

Clydesdale Hall of Fame

While I’m at it, let’s go ahead and add Spike Lee to the Clydesdale Hall of Fame for his monumental documentary about the continued struggles of the people of New Orleans, When the Levees Broke. I knew I was still pissed off about something, and Mr. Lee helped me remember what it was. Although not an easy thing to watch (4 hours of institutional negligence and suffering) I feel like a better american for having done it. Whoever said if you aren’t upset you aren’t paying attention was right. Spike Lee is upset, and he is paying attention- for this he receives the prestigious honor of induction into the BRC Clydesdale Hall of Fame. I’m sure he is thrilled this morning.

-Juancho

Clydesdale Hall of Fame

Because he would have believed that we saw a black panther and not some “jaguarundi”. And because he made biology funny, Steve Irwin is hereby inducted into the Big Ring Circus’ Clydesdale Hall of Fame, an intermittent feature honoring large people, or those that live so.

Juancho

The Cranktoy Rider


Taking a vacation from vacations, I spent the long weekend right here in paradise on 10th Avenue. Testing the theory(Is it a theory?) that you can pedal away your worries and woes, I moved into the saddle for a few days. Other than a few hours of sleep here and there, and a busy day of commerce at www.joesbikeshop.net on Saturday, I rode.

I am finding that the mountain bike and the road bike complement each other very well. One requires a great deal of thought, physical effort, and technical skill while the other is like sitting on the couch while moving your feet for hours on end. As long as my ass was asleep I knew I was in the right place.

On the mountain bike, I rode with Pete (Huck Shins) and a 21 y/o fresh off the boat kid from Maine with dreams of big air. After watching the air show Pete put on, he knows he has some homework to do. I’m pretty certain I witnessed a first descent on the Live Oak Connector. I won’t bore you with the details, but if anyone else out there has ever “dropped the roller jump off the ridge and bunny-hopped the creek” please contact me, otherwise I’m declaring Pete’s a first descent. Shortly after this I hit a tree going as fast as I can, so we all have our talents, right? Between Saturday and Sunday morning we rode: The Albertson’s (Pine Beetle) trail, Fern trail (new and old), Magnolia trail at TBP, Cadillac, Heritage to the secret beach and back, Live Oak Connector, Computer Tutors, Powerlines, Overstreet (singletrack and the loop), the Lake Jackson loop, and everything huck-able on the way home through town. Big fun, absolutely terrific riding.

On the road bike, it was sweet, slick-tired fun down the boresville highway (The St. Marks trail) first withScot. B and a young lady prodigy he is coaching, then again yesterday for 35 miles of “turn your brain off” solo pedal cranking. Road biking is more interesting with partners, although I believe I may talk too much for some folks. If they road faster, maybe I’d be quiet, but I doubt it.

The Fuji Del Rey (My little Pony) rides so nice and looks so clean. Aside from the downtube shifters, the hairy legs, and the visor on my helmet- someone might mistake me for a real roadie-but I doubt it.

Enough about me though: Bushyhead rode the 6 hour solo at Santos this weekend and acquitted himself proudly. T-dog and Hambone worked his station and chatted up all the ladies like they are known to do.

To close out for today, I would like to ask Bigworm to render a verdict on the true conversion equation of off-road to road miles. I have my notions, but I will defer to your judgement.

Juancho-wind him up and watch him crank.

Scorpion and Monkey

August 31,2006

The contact, the thumps, the bumps. Pedaling faster. Smash! Bring the pain.
Keeps me focused, self-flagellation- when my mind is working double shifts at the anger factory.

Every log jump, tight corner, and rooty mess is a chance to give myself the beating I’m looking for on this ride. Come on, let’s do this, let’s hit something hard. Right now having the wind knocked out of me sounds real good, like a deep massage.

Instead, I flash it all. No bobbles, no hits, just a flying ace in his his Sopwith Camel, dodging enemy fire. All the way home I strafe and run, strafe and run, until my guns go click, click, click.

Riding for blood but settling, in the end, for good honest purifying sweat.

I can’t tell if I’m scorpion or monkey.

-Juancho

Juancho