scientists, crooks, and laymen

In a massive ride scene shakeup this week, several comings and goings engender a flurry of local bike activity. Comments have been made, pedals turned, whiskey drunk.

Old School Part time Local YOc__ showed up for a few rounds of sleepless weekend ride/work/ride/work cycles. Mr. P represents the porridge that's just right though that doesn't represent him at all at all...it's just that he's the middling bridge, neither old nor new and here all week. Then the FNG for this series, #bearglove, who stumble_ucked his way into the Night Ride intro(s) that'll ruin you for anything else.

It's funny/peculiar because we have been hitting the local Goods so hard we are at risk of too much fun, and it's because the motivation is so present. You know how it is when you can ride it whenever.



It will always be there.






You might as well stay in and watch that good and important television show, because- fuck it, there's all these opportunities just lining up to be took. Save the effort for a really perfect ride, and keep holding down your place on the couch. You got time.

Until you don't. I mean, sure, someday you'll die (wait- if I eat right and live in America, that's optional these days, right? right? amiright?) but that's not even in the picture. You might move away, though, from your good scene and easily accessible, friendly trails staffed by willing and known trail stewards and trusty ride guides. You might move away, and realize you miss the Goods. You might move away and realize you missed the Goods! Heading down to that one trail, or rolling up to the twisty stuff you heard tell of, and meant to...but didn't...yep, all those opportunities just will not wait.



It will always be there.



It will. But you can still miss it. Especially if you don't motivate to do it. So. With YOc___ back and willing (stoked, even) and Mr. P back and willing (like, really) and #bearglove lining up to knock em down before he no longer has these opportunities...well, I am the one who really benefits.



It will always be there. Go and get it.

skilled devotees of one of the world's most exacting hobbies

Everbody got to love something. One of the the things I love the most is riding bikes. You may feel similar. And a further subset of Love is racing cyclocross. That is some kind of a hurtful Good Time, let me tell you. In spite of the impending collapse of predictable global weather patterns that is currently manifesting itself here in California as SERIOUS DROUGHT and which results in candy-assed conditions for cyclocross (sunny, and hot?!) the courses laid out by CCCX have been fun and challenging.

Last week's multiple barriers and series of punchy rises made for one type of racing (which suited my candy ass), while this week's had only the one barrier and a couple tiny punches with the deep-like-bottomless sand and the ripping road bits (not suiting my candy ass). As I was breathing down the neck of the racer/foe in front of me going into the woodchip/sand twisties, he lost it in the corner and I ran into his wheel...that guy apologized for crashing and blocking me. Lesson? Shit. Racing is chaos. I twisted my bars (old ass hella upright quill stem and wide OG WTB dirtdrops) in this incident, but it's a race! so I kept rallying with a 20* list to the left. Places were lost as we got ourselves sorted. This got me a little panicky-

Look. I KNOW it doesn't really matter, that it's just a local old guy B race with no Glory or accolades, and it bores even my own family, but. It does matter. In that moment it is a savage contest and I am in it to win whichever battle I can. Win one, chase down the next fool. Not in my category? Good. It means I'm moving up through the fodder. Fuck. Eat. Kill.

and being rattled will make you crashy. Yes, leading 3 clowns into the tight sandy switchbacks, I washed the front wheel and stuffed myself into the bushes. I should have taken those guys out with me to preserve placing? No mercy! But the clown immediately behind me yells at me to get up and get back on his wheel so we can chase down the clowns in front of us both?  Damn. I love cyclocross.

Well, I had twisted my bars 20* to the right in that one, but I jumped up and tried to chase- nope. I had to stop and manhandle them straight and then try to chase. Places were lost. Racers whose asses I'd handed to them last week were drilling me this week. I watched __ ride away consistently on the road bits and barely be able to bring him back, get pissy that I was "stuck" behind him on the techy stuff, and then have him stick the knife in again when we returned to the road bits. Round and round we go. I was simultaneously pissed that he kept attacking (and I couldn't answer) and admiring that he had such ability. Ability on the smooth flats, but real lack on the punchy accelerations and the tech stuff?  It's a puzzler, the love and the hate.

Because that's what it is about. Love. Chivalry. Pageantry.

At the cyclocross sports game, you will find spectators hollering at crash victims to shake it off and get back in the race, giving time splits to teammates and their rivals alike, cheering anybody. Cowbells. Boobs (well, some man-boobs were shown anyhow, and we can hope it takes off). Fireball handups (which, that awful cinnamon "whiskey"will make you seriously consider throwing up for a lap or so). Etc. The people there are there because they are participants, not simple gapers. Everybody understands what it takes to ride the dang thing, slow or fast, and there is the community because of this.

At the end, after chasing and chasing and never catching, I was able to pass this one guy in a sprint to the line. He knew I was coming, and when I pipped him his exclamation of dismay was all the victory required.

Savages. Finding meaning and satisfaction in the dust.

spirits refuse to fade away

but they will rotate, so's to prevent stagnation. Stag nation. Like it's comrade, Rust, it never sleeps but it also don't work as hard so you can beat it if you're willing to put in a little effort.

It's October Break (you know- when the kids get a week off of school) and we ain't got the resources to ride the highline thru the Himalyas, tour the Continent's finer salons, or explore the most picturesque of the lesser known slot canyons but. BUT. We can discover the wonders of nature, rolling in the rushes down by the riverside. A quick and dirty overnighter way down Arroyo Seco way?



That's all you had to say.

The stripped downest of trips. The kids all carried they own sleeping gear, no extras (i.e. folding camp chairs, 2 burner stoves, cast iron dutch ovens, or the like as per past trips), and we had the barest of food set ups...means poppa can forgo the big Big Dummy, and we can all fit in one car for the drive out to the trailhead. Yes, they are unwilling to ride the 45 miles to the ride. Soft.



The weather has begun to turn, (though central California is never that cold) and we don't love the yahooery that runs rampant at the "gorge" anyhow, so it was an easy unanimity to keep rolling rather than head down into the shadows and the yelling in favor of keeping on towards the sunshine and the quiet.






So after all that, there is the this:







And you can lounge creekside in the hammock hoping the beer fairy shows up...

paradigm of self-effacement

So my achilles tendon had been bothering me pretty good after the #2 CCCX race (followed by the long grinder road ride the next day, duh) and I been staying off the clipless pedals and wearing shoes that don't grab my heel, etc. Also, I been using the Roll Recovery R8 (totally recommend!).

Result? I'm feeling much better. As I dip my toes in the deep end of trying to age gracefully*  (just turned 46?!) I find an increasing need to stay on top of "minor" body issues in order that they not become "major" body issues. If that don't make sense, wait awhile...it will eventually.

Anyhow, I go to the races "for work", and not racing is a drag. Seeing everbody out there suffering, and hearing the post-race tales of glory with no stake in the matter is sad making. Today, I felt better enough to mix it up. I even warmed up for the first time ever, and I think that made a real difference. I try to always pre-ride the course (not a given), but never an actual warm up, and always a sneer for the goons on their trainers. Well, as usual, the joke's on me. That stuff is legit.

I felt good, the course suited me, and in spite of dropping my chain twice (surprise! coast along one handed and fit it back on while getting passed...) on account of my questionable decision to ditch the front stuff for a 1x set-up with a played out short cage XT from 1993 and half a reflector bracket for a "keeper", well I finished pretty good. What a fun day: self-inflicted punishment, the crushed dreams of my rivals, pinatas, squirt guns, yep.

I got home and told the wife how I'd placed, and she asked out of how many people overall. The hurtful joke continues...




Hey. Really do check out that Roll Recovery business. It is helpful.









*remain able to do all kind of kick ass fun stuff.

more, more, more

Yo. Is you certain your shit is enduro enough? Be your post mounts as flush as they will have to be? Do you have the latest in thru axle technahlogy? Can you an early adopter of the most modern of electrical plastisized drive train freAK OUTS?

Then you might want to consider what you wanna to do with your life.

You do what you do because you want to. We do what we do because: A) Bob fucking told us to B) it seemed like a good idea at the time 3) wut? D) the terrain in these yere parts is rolly and sandy with some sections of rolly sand. You can ride whatever you want wherever you want, so long as you ride to the ride. What ride?

The FULL MOON FUCK YOU, FUTURE FREAKOUT. Wednesday night, October 8th, on account of that's when the moon is full. Meet at the graveyard at 6:30PM for sunset beer(s) (look for the kooks drinking beer(s) by bicycle(s) if you are uncertain as to which specific gravesite) and we will roll- by S___'s in Cside to pick him up cuz he is lazy- on to the place where the trails begin.

I am riding a singlespeed, because they are cool. You ride whatever your wrong choice happens to be. Bring some good hooch, because the only stuff out there is that awful Crown Royal.

DRUNK and fast. No babysitting, no submitting.

Word is out.