Monthly Archives: March 2007

Since I am injured and the usual characters are taking the opportunity to rest on their laurels and avoid the sting of my lash, let’s go back in time (like a TV series with a short budget) and see if life was any better a year ago today…

I will be out of here for a couple days. I’m going to Oak Mountain State Park, where the locals love mountain biking, but apparently haven’t figured out that you are supposed to ride the bikes. Maybe I can give them some pointers.

But seriously folks!

If you have a craving for lush hardwood forest, demanding singletrack, and good BBQ then google Oak Mountain State Park and let the envy begin. I can definitely throw that guy’s bike farther than he can, so I’m looking to get on the podium so to speak.

New submission from “IfIhadabike” up in NYC- BRC- Now with Humor!

Very funny. Very friggin’ funny.

What else? Remember S’quatch? He managed to keep himself clean again all weekend by staying out of the woods. I think he’s truly hung up his knobbies for good. We had some good times though didn’t we? Hello?

Bushy and I tromped around looking for scat and tracks yesterday, but I’m afraid the trail has gone cold on the big cat. We had some minor excitement when I leapt across the “crik” in a cat-like manner myself and Bushy yells “Stop! Don’t Move! A huge snake just flashed up the hill when you landed”. “Come back the way you came” he says, which was impossible and looked even snakier. Standing in tall grass wondering which way the snake went actually sounds like an excellent metaphor for my general life outlook and expectations. I picked a direction and high-stepped it out of there. Also an excellent metaphor for something.

I’m still welcoming slogan submissions, so keep them coming. We have some real gems, but I have a hunch you can do better. I’m also think of printing up some less traditional items rather than the standard t-shirt, coffee mug, thing. I’m leaning towards…

a Nascar sponsorship
Bibs
Cartons of smokes
Ace bandages
inner tubes (great product visibility!)
Your bikes

Just to name a few. That’s right, this juice of mine just flows all day.

-Juancho-now with humor!

* The 2007 BRC Slogan contest is officially open!

Tommy T and I rinsed ourselves out mind, body, and spirit this past Monday at Santos and man, did I ever need the mental colonic. I have to say, of all the friends I hate when they are making me suffer, I hate Tommy the least.

The general flatness of the landscape at Santos means you are always turning the pedals. Like a Tibetan prayer wheel, the repetition eventually transcends you to someplace above the bike, above the trail, most of all- above the bullshit, the minutiae, modern life. Meditating in the pain cave, the mind becomes quite still. Like an approaching orgasm, your entire being is poised, hung high on the expectations of the next searing breath.

Juancho

You know, I have to say I was wrong. Munson is not destroyed, ravaged a good bit, but not destroyed. The access trail, paper cup trail, and good portions of the never got a chance Twilight Zone trail are gone, but hey, Munson-strictly speaking- still exists.

Whoopee. My buddy T put it nostalgically like this, “Fuck it, it was a sand pit anyway. We can go find a new sand pit if you need one so bad”.

And that my friends, settles that. Maybe change is good, maybe change is bad, all I know is that the current transitional reality is about as lame as the president these days, which brings me to a brief story.

The Roadie War Monger, or Weird Harold visits the trail head.

I woke up exhausted from a 12 hour nap this morning and knew instantly I had unfinished business out at the forest. I sipped a cup of strong, black coffee like I do every morning. I make it in a Melita filter with a huge scoop of fresh ground 8 O’clock Bean. It sat on my shaky stomach better than anything over the last two days when I was fighting off some Botulism, or perhaps a dose of the Salmonella.

I blasted the first Weezer album as I rumbled down South Monroe in my gas hog Ford, patting myself on the back for splurging on a decent stereo and some speakers last Summer. I don’t care what you say, that blue Weezer album is a stone cold classic and it always takes me back to simpler times.

In spite of my mission to record the destruction of a local landmark trail, and the presence of actual logging trucks mowing down swaths of the forest, I found myself responding to the same forest cues that draw me out year after year. Specifically, the wonderful piny smell and the cinnamon sugar trail base. My vitriolic mission had become what I needed most, a good ride.

I spent an hour and a half exploring all sections of the trail and trying to picture what it will look like after a rather severe haircut. I forgot about all that. I thought about Thailand. I thought about old flames. I thought about my work and who it has made me. You know, good bike ride stuff.

Then, as I was resting back at the truck a guy approached me. On a road bike ( A Giant). Mid-fifties, appropriately geared up, he kept swooping past and throwing out overtures. Unfortunately I don’t speak road bike.

Eventually he pulled up and started going on about plans to expand the paved St. Marks trail, then he segued quite naturally into why we really can’t trust Muslims, and how “the war” is between ancient religions and make no mistake- you better choose your side. I tried to cut him off, but he was not to be stopped. “You can talk to Iran if you want to, but I wouldn’t take war off the table!” he was shouting this as I cranked up the Weezer to 10 and lurched into reverse (to brush him off the plate as he was hanging in my window by now). “Terrorists are coming over the border from Mexico, the media lies!”

I don’t want to act like that guy.

And this is a Muslim-friendly site.

But I think I made a mistake when I started giving roadies a pass.

See you later,

Juancho