Monthly Archives: July 2008

Might as well turn it up and rip the knob off. This channel ain’t changin’.

I made some sort of invisible cut tonight. I got to ride that secret trail everyone’s been yammering about. Nice. Brutal and rough- but nice.

Big Jim Slade was sporting the finest collection of gnats nestled in pus I have seen in a long time on his knees and elbows. What can you do? People get on bicycles and race them on the roadways. This is a fact. I can do nothing to change it, but Lord have I tried.

Is anyone still watching the Tour? Like lots of things in life, I am afraid Professional Cycling might be more fun with the pharmaceuticals. Don’t start your “Dopers Suck” rant over here, I can barely find time to deal with my own ranting as it is. Of course I am still watching, and yes I know how hard they are working, and that the appreciation for the sport requires a subtle understanding of pain and reaching beyond pain. I get it. The drama however, remains rather subdued.

Fat Lad will no shit be here in Tallahassee in 76 days or so. Y’all better be ridin’. We need to send him home with an inflated image of our collective abilities.

Not to mention Uncle Todd, who will be here in less than a month. We got company coming folks. Pass the EPO.

-Juancho

Big Worm just left me a message that was so techie the only thing I am sure about is that Big Worm called. I think he said he could get me a replacement fork from this guy
made out of coconuts and bushes.

That is not really the issue at hand. The issue at hand dear reader is the steamy, steamy forest where Bushy, BW, and I rolled along this morning. Thirty before lunch, thems the miles kids, thems is the miles.

We all know though, that the amount of people still reading this blog could not give one moist crap about my bike and where I rode it, so I will tell you a story instead.

One time when I was travelling across the country with three friends whom you may or may not know we delivered cars the whole way for a shady operation called AAA Driveaway. We started in Redmond, WA and delivered a Volvo to West Palm Beach, FL.

It was a sweet ride, with heated seats. We were crossing the Rockies in Winter so a solid, well-heated Volvo was perfect for our needs. The problem was, the owner had packed all of her nice hats, Easter dresses, and parasols neatly in the back.

Where we wanted to put our mountain bikes. All four of our mountain bikes.

We gently placed the owner’s nice things in a rooftop carrier, the cost of which ravaged our food and beer budget. Away we went.

Somewhere near Mitchell, South Dakota we stopped on the side of the interstate to check the load. The wind was blowing like we were in South Dakota and the temperature was about -8. We removed the top of the carrier to inspect our benefactress’s delicates.

They were frozen solid in a wrinkled, contorted mess which formed the shape of the inside of the carrier. It was like a jello mold of crinoline.

Somewhere I have a picture of that, or somebody does. If it is you, then cough it up. Statute of limitations done run out on that a long time ago.

Later we took apart the dashboard to stop the odometer, but that is another story.

-Juancho

I wish I could say I sorted out some life issues on my spin down to St. Marks and back last night, but I barely remember the trip at all. Just the thumping verse of Tupac Shakur explaining the difficulties of living the Thug’s life.

Tell me about it brother. It’s just me against the world.

-Juancho

It is Tuesday, or as I like to call it when I am not travelling, fourth Saturday.

My legs have that pressed in the vise feeling, and despite 8 hours of sleep I feel a little sluggish. I am thinking that means I am dehydrated, like a piece of jerky. My hat is off to Mystery the Untame-able Stallion for pushing the limits yesterday. I want more of that; handfuls of barbed wire and gallons of turpentine.

I might be a little dehydrated, or I might be one of those bike bloggers who writes about riding and training and what color their bowel movement was or wasn’t (green and yellow like everybody else’s thank you for asking.)

So whatever, yeah- I ride. What of it? You want to go right now? I do.

Sasquatch is taking his pie-hole north to the mountains tomorrow and HiTops gets the 6th man award for offering to loan out his Jamis Dakar for S’quatch to ride at Tsali since the Fisher is sheared in two and not yet replaced. Obviously HiTops truly hates his mountain bike, and wishes it ill.

I suspected it all along.

Juancho

Yes. I am aware that it is a road biking event- and yet still the most moving of human dramas, a myth alive in an age of postmodern disdain for the grand gesture.

I speak, obviously, of Le Tour de France.

I have no idea or opinion as to favorites, the changing teams, and the bottom-dealing shenanigans of all involved. I do think Don King needs to step down as Tour Director. Whatever. None of that matters.

Watching people ride bikes makes me want to ride bikes more than I already want to ride, and there ain’t much going on but the ride around here.

So yes, on the eve of our nation’s day my thoughts are elsewhere.

My thoughts are with Alexis de Tocqueville, who was french but thought always of America.

He said;

The greatness of America lies not in being more enlightened than any other nation, but rather in her ability to repair her faults.

I feel exactly the same way about his nation’s bicycle race.

Saturday at 8:30 A:M EST I will be watching, and pulling for one doomed for heartbreak sucker after another who sets his cap for victory.

Because this time one of those guys gets to win it all.

-Juancho