Author Archives: Juancho

Joey Bushyhead took a break from his Jeremiah Johnson routine to go for a bike ride. With a deer and a hog in the freezer he laid down his laser-sighted carbon-fiber compound bow and picked up the Specialized 29’er Single Speed. Gear is gear right?

We got to the trailhead just before dark with plans of spinning a quick lap of Munson to evaluate his general fitness and enjoy a little saddle time. I didn’t need to remind him that the last person who went for an innocent lap of Munson with me had his scrotum “un-gloved” on a sharp handlebar end. We both hoped for a better outcome than that.

In my rush to beat the fading daylight I had left my shoes behind. With J Bushy suited up and ready after a 6 month hiatus, I had no choice. Flip flops and clipless pedals it was to be. For good measure, I left my light in the van, all charged up and ready to go. Surely there was enough light for a 22 minute lap of Munson?

It wasn’t so bad actually, although curling my toes around the tiny SPD pedals made my feet cramp a bit, I managed to build up some speed and handle my business. By the time we turned at the old trailhead and pointed it towards the parking lot it was full-on dark. I let J Bush take the lead and pace us to the trailhead, my bare feet lacing through the wire grass in the grey shadows.

Juancho

Do you see that tent in the post below this one? Do not buy that tent. That tent is screen on all sides and it has a specially designed vent that funnels cold air directly into the crack of your ass. I feel very lucky to still have my someone special in my life. Much like the celebrated 2008 trip to Bed, Bath, and Beyond I avoided a horrible bike ride by shopping for comfort. In order to survive the 26 degree temperatures we drove into town in search of insulation. While we explored the halls of Wal-Mart the rest of the gang went for a bike ride, sort of.

12 miles in about 5 hours involving a lot of walking and pushing bikes, that is the report from the first ride. The day was nearing darkness when the Dogboy rode into camp alone. Riders were scattered all down the mountain he said, and a ride would probably be appreciated. Ma Ingalls and I loaded up in the truck and bumped along down the mountain road with a box of canned beers for the bonked. The first rider we came along was Tommy, and he happily got in the truck. The second rider was my friend Big Dave, riding a 1988 Trek Antelope 820, aka the lead sled. He wears running shoes and his bike has one toe clip on the left side. He wears a buck knife on his belt. He pedaled along just below walking speed, but he refused assistance. “Maybe on your way back,” he said. The next trail refugees were Pa Ingalls and Mystery– the Un-tameable Stallion. They walked side by side with their heads down, arms locked out pushing handlebars. They were a sad pair indeed. They loaded up in the truck, Mystery reclined across Tommy’s lap as he could not bend his legs without cramping. Another mile down the hill we found Panama City Thomas, gamely pedaling. I took his bike and he crawled into the bed of the truck.

On and on we drove down the hill, almost to the highway. Our very own Magnum, left for dead by the others, was cranking along in silent agony. He went into the truck without a fight. He later admitted that he heard us coming and got on the bike to make a good show of it. I suspect he was truly turning the pedals though, broken but not unbeaten.

When we got back to camp, Big Dave was at the fire enjoying some suds and preparing to go find some wood to chainsaw. We’re going to put him in the Clydesdale Hall of Fame for that performance.

The Cheaha trip produces stories big and small, and this is just one of them.

-Juancho

Nary a ride occurs lately without a crash happening. My theory is that everyone is pushing right now, taking advantage of summer fitness efforts to uncork some epic rides in the crisp fall air. Legs and lungs that moved you at 10 mph in August move you 15 mph in November. We are all out there 5 miles ahead of ourselves.

Last week I took a new rider out and he too was pushing himself, trying something for the first time, putting himself out there. He took a fall so nasty, with consequences so horrific, that I didn’t even mention it here. He is fine now, recovering with 10 stitches, and drafting his story for publication right here at the BRC. He is a resilient guy, and good in a crisis, and I suspect he is a good enough writer to get the job done.

The last four days included 4 rides that I would hold up as the best I have ever had. Oaken legs and abundant sunshine, big wheels and little wheels, single track and not, I laid down some quality miles. I am five miles ahead of myself, but catching up fast.

A week ago I moved in with the limb I have always missed and today I resigned my job of 9 years to take a new chance.

When you are on the roll of a lifetime you don’t tap the brakes.

Juancho

In 1985 my first girlfriend moved away to Alabama. We were pretty serious for 15 year-olds. I watched her drive off in the back of the family wagon, pedaling down the street as they pulled away forever. We wrote letters. I told her all about my big dreams of becoming an airbrush artist someday, and she told me the boys in Alabama were nothing like me, and that we would be together again. I never made it as an airbrush artist, and eventually life absorbed us in our own small worlds.

Her name faded into the mythology of my past, holding the place of First Love. I ruefully thought of her living in a separate universe from me, not knowing who she became. We were together forever and trapped in 1985.

We stayed together forever and 15 for 26 years. We bumped into each other this past summer and picked up where we left off- No, I don’t airbrush anymore. No, I don’t really break-dance either I told her about the Crash of Great Awakening, the perils of sucrose, and my commitment to reading the great postmodern novels of the new millennium. Who has time to airbrush? She was surprised to hear I was still single. With the sweet van you drive? She would say. And the angry political posturing? Single? Really? But it was true.

I said something to her in a conversation this summer that sounded familiar to her and she unearthed the 1985 Nancesowee, our yearbook from 9th grade. What I said was, “I have never met a girl like you before. Sometimes you are so funny and cool to be around and other times you are just quiet and beautiful.”

From the day I picked myself up off that pavement (June 2, 2010) a lot of good things have happened in my life, but none so good as this one. I got my girl back from Alabama and she moved in last night. We’re all shacked up.

Welcome home Melissa!

-Juancho

My ears quit ringing. The ever-present hissing and ringing of the last six months just stopped. There is no explanation. Is it gone for good? Who knows. This does tell me that it can stop. What have I learned from the ringing? The lesson I learn always and in so many ways- humility and acceptance. I learn the lesson that when you have had all that you think you can take, you can take a little more. You don’t have to suffer from ringing ears or anything else forever, you just have to suffer it this moment, and the next moment, and now this moment right here.

That’s how we get by, whatever our afflictions.

Juancho