Monthly Archives: February 2007
Progress
A drizzling zamboni-like rain fell yesterday, polishing Munson Hills into perfectly sticky race track conditions. After 2 weeks of travel, I was finally home. Finally suiting up for a run at the Grand Old Lady of local trails.
I was a little disappointed to see that in my absence she was roughed up, knocked around, out-right abused. The place is trashed. 400 square miles of National forest containing exactly (1) 7.5 mile mountain bike trail and the Forest Service sold off the anemic, measly timber from that sector, or quadrant, or whatever language is used to signal the arrival of progress.
Call me a conspiracy-theory whacko, but the Forest Service efforts to see the local community develop a mountain bike advocacy group coinciding with the destruction of a Tallahassee landmark trail seems highly suspect. The Forest Service had some bad medicine to deliver and they needed some noses to pinch and some throats to rub.
So, I will put on my investigative vest with the many pockets and seek clues.
Was the cut announced in the papers, and if so, when?
Did my local bicycle advocacy group understand fully the level of decimation (to reduce by 10’s) the Forest Service had in store for the area?
Since they cut in new Forest roads doesn’t that imply that they have moved in permanently like our troops in Baghdad?
How did the discussion go from “miles of new forest trails” to “preserving what is left of our one actual trail?”
For all of you living beyond the borders of Leon county I apologize, but I hope this is a cautionary trail. The thing you think will never happen is probably lying on someone’s desk awaiting approval right this moment.
I saw one of our local fast-boys, Mr. Slayer, out there and he was lost and disoriented like a seagull covered in an oil slick. I washed him off and sent him flapping away.
-Juancho
Can We Rebuild Him?
I think I will ride in a town called “Tallahassee” this weekend if it is all the same to you people. I won’t bore you with work details, just know that I am terribly important and therefore sacrifice myself for the good of humankind. It’s nothing, anyone else would do the same thing in the same situation. I wouldn’t call myself a hero, but you know- if the shoe fits right?
My sweet bike has been locked in the trunk of a rental car that attracts politically conservative senior citizens like a NRA Pancake Breakfast, or a Swiftboat Veteran Reunion. At this point it has given up hope of ever touching sweet North Florida dirt again. Peering out the keyhole trying to attract attention on the highway. “Ha, ha, ha!” I say, “Nobody hears your screams!”
Anyway, I suppose I will be out there this weekend, somewhere along the Lake Lafayette circuit, doing my homework and earning it back the old-fashioned way.
At least all of the big, organized rides are over. Maybe this trip was more convenient that I realized?
-Juancho
Welcome to "the ‘Ham" a tour in pictures
It can be hard to choose which type of animal you want to smother in tangy sauce and eat, but I went with chicken.
Mac and Cheese is available everywhere, It is as common as a glass of water. 
And some fresh Turnip Greens keep Alabama bones strong for years to come.
Birmingham loves a Grapico brand grape soda!
The best lemon pie is not meringue here in the ‘Ham, it’s lemon cream pie. Ooooo-boy!
That ought to top off the tanks for Oak Mountain later today, you know, when I go for a big, muddy mountain bike ride after work.
Mmmm, and there is a Johnny Ray’s BBQ right down the street from the park for the post-ride ‘recovery’ dinner.
Somebody say the blessing-
Juancho
And now here’s Squatch- with the weather…
Reduced to covering cycling events like just another attractive journalist, I scrambled to get the story during my brief return to homebase. S’quatch made it very clear that he dominated the field in the run to Tate’s Hell, churning up the competition with his girthy thighs. He also said the food was delicious, a Carnival Cruise styled buffet of butter sculptures and chocolate fountains.
Actually he said it was vegan and therefore carried all of the opposite characteristics of say- a steaming pile of delicious biscuits and sausage gravy. Steaming pile, mmmmm.
Aside from the tasty snacks, and the 19 degree departure temp, the ride to Hell and Back sounded like an old home week of local characters, up and comers, and out of towners who made a bad decision.
Maybe next year Mystery and I will cater the damn thing.To get any more than that, we have to wait for our foreign correspondents to report in.
The 12 Hours of Razorback can be summed up by a single dispatch from Joey Bushyhead. Something about snapping off his rear deraileur in the dark and converting his rig to a single speed in order to maintain an overall team placement of sixth. Results can be verified at www.goneriding.com Look for Team “Tall Blondes” in the Mens over 125 category.
Tall Blondes is code for Miller High Life so don’t go to that site for otherwise nefarious expecations to be fulfilled.
and on that note, Soledad will trundle into the Chrysler M3 (herringbone white) and go to Alabama, where they laugh at such things.
*Sigh*
Juancho