the subject and his skeleton

On the patio in the sun. Listening to the soft, random tinkling of BB-riddled beer cans as they gently rock in the breeze. I squint. It could be the glorious light of the lazy, 68* Spring morning. Or, it could be the heavy ghosts of the failures of rides past.

Specifically the Sleaze Otter. I have spoken about this "race" and it's attendant issues at length with it's director, the elusive Carmel Bob, and certain parallels with my own experience in group ride organization and inter-personal dynamics within the peloton have come to the front and gone on a flyer.

I am reminded of the 1st time we put on the now annual White Rim Overnight (what's the date this year, by the way, Moabites?) which was the crucible in which the Church of the Sweet Ride was stewed and from which it emerged, fully and beautifully formed. It is a long story which I think we've already covered, so suffice to say that the group splintered at the first hint of trouble. A bunch of folks wanted to settle for some shitty soft option of Slickrock Practice Loop when we had just driven 2 hours for the event. Because they could scurry back to the car if it stormed. Drama, insults, excuses and bullshit ensued. Some folks rode, some folks took their bikes and went home. The folks who were all go were then treated (some would say "subjected") to a grand spectacle of a bicycle ride. Yes, it could have been the night-long wheel-miring sandstorm that loomed on the horizon, and that would have been miserable. Really and for real. But, it wasn't. It was too much for words.

Hey. Got a bike? Like to look at it? Talk about it? Uh huh. Keep talking.

this is the end of an era

So, I see Carmel Bob and his sideshow have folded up their tents and left the building. The good ship SLEAZE OTTER has sunk. Looks like for good. Somebody blew it.

act now

Ain't no joke.



Stunning fact: SLeaZE Otter turns this mother out yearly. This is a true statement. If you missed it (and I know you did) you blew it. Lots of blowing it going on. Carmel Bob and his sideshow freak posse work their fingers to the bone and what a they get?

 Yep.

I visited the official SLeaZE Otter sweat shop and checked out the prizes:

If you showed, you know. If not, you still don't.

Fist Frank knows. Knows how to rule it in full regalia.

My fancy pants Supernova E3 (800 lumen?!?) dynohub powered light was phenomenal. Ain't no joke.

I rode up and over the hill with my fellow revelers and then rode around the course alternately cheating and heckling. The HantaVirusRamp was an especially well executed bit of custom guerilla race coursemanship. Those who rode it were not disappointed. Those who were skeered were silly- it was perfectly safe! It just looked rickety and pitchy. And, plus, the Underground Niteclub at the bunker #5 was a super elaborate hoax of fun. Inspired work, boys.

I heard rumors it may or may not happen again next year.

you better axe somebody

How well does a knuckle-head roll? Is a question as old as.



"About like you'd expect" is the answer.

Carmel Bob and that crowd has put up this year's flyer, and it looks to already be going sideways. Yaz, yaz. Sleaze Otter time again, mateys. Time to tap the bottle and twist the cap (heyyohickorydickorydockI'mfromtheCarmelblock) whilst you turn the pedals and whip that ass! So. Calling all pirates, inmates, home boyz, fly grrrlz, hoboes, hobettes, hombres, LOLOS, cholos, sidewinders, snake-oil-salesfolk, upstanding model citizens, decent types, low-lifes, double dealers, underhanded sinisterarians, spinsters, ministers, those who are ill equipped, your mom, all my friends, and most of all, YOU...get where the gettin is good and show up for the fun to start.

The flyer has the info. Looks like Fisherman's Wharf at 7pm this coming Saturday. If this is anything like years past, it'll be a lot of hilarity and fun. What with my shoulder and old-man-ass-syndrome, I'm taking it easy this year and that means there's a chance you could win it. I must say, I'm enjoying the no-nonsense slap in the face to all the losers who "choose" not to attend. Because, yes, they are pussies and don't know how to use a bike as a fun, only as a train/compete.



Serious serious matter.

lose 20lbs sitting on the couch!

For real.

Dipping in and out of perfectly set up sand singletrack, that's what's up. Trying to tie together all these rough edges into a smoothly pedaling time on the bike. As I repeat the loops along the old Friday Night SS route, it is coming back to me. So much of that which was ruined now is returned to top notch- well, minus the fantastic tunnel effect of OG maritime chaparral that was 12' high, but the quality is there; in the dirt, through the berms, the rhythmic flow of carving turns. Drop the hip here, a little push on the front end there. Staying with a steady, even spin that stops just short (but not by much) of the bum rush.

Now is the time. These trails are on the chopping block again! Today the getting is good, tomorrow the world ends. Go get some Fort Ord before Sea Otter effs the trails. Conditions are perfect.


Oh me? I'm clawing my way back one fat rotation at a time. I will be peaking Saturday April 21st, at the 6th Annual Sleaze Otter. Carmel Bob is at it again, I see. I am pleased to see Sr. Magni is again featured in their propganda. Remember Sleaze Otter III?

That was a Good Time.

teenage hangups

I have it straight from the jack's ass that those pirates running the ship over at the Sleaze Otter that the jig is up again this year. Up and coming. So, hey, throw them a bone and hook them up with your hot sister or a corporate sponsor so's we can all drink for free and participate in the Good Time we've come to know and love.

I look forward to learning more as the weeks crawl by. Sleaze Otter for all my friends!

And here is some Texas pop from the 1980s:

a bawdy, blistering tale of tomorrow

Damn right I like the Life I live.


I have some reservations about these so called "friends" who are in it with me, but still...

Like these people, who loitered in my yard all day, stinking up the place and dragging down property values.


Like this guy,seen here setting up the course on race day. He claimed that one tower (which had been gonna be a fine and sneaky stop) was in the process of being hived up as hundreds of bees swarmed all around it, requiring a small but significant reroute.

Then he borrowed my bike and did 360s on to the giant airbag they had set up at Sea Otter.




M___ decided to go for the glory early and stacked up in the sandy wash at the bottom of the initial fire-road drop towards #50. He and another guy converged on the single line, and they both crashed hard. I was in the front (ahem) and all I heard was a little girl yelling "Oh my God!"
It was carnage when I got back to the wash.
As a nice twist of the knife,while he was gimping himself up the hill to head for the hospital, M___ said he could hear us hollering across the valley as we ascended 50 on the North side hurling invective at one another. Having fun and such.
For spending the night in the ER he was awarded a shower of popcorn, a bunch of jeers, and a sweet puking clown Surly t-shirt. I think he earned it the hard way. I overheard him telling his old lady she was gonna have to wear her doctor outfit...

At a couple of stops we had been instructed to write on our feet (BIGfoot theme?). LOVE and HATE. It was fun seeing everyone barefoot in the sleazy dive.


Some people misunderstood the instructions.


Seemed like cross bikes were the vehicle of choice. Folks in it to win it.

This obsession with victory at all costs was not without costs. For example the choice above. 23mm rear=flat. Only one?!? I am amazed. Especially since this entrant's cut-throat style marked him early as equal parts reckless and dangerous.


One of the nicer machines. Black Cat Bicycles custom cyclocross.
The photos do not do it justice. The tinted clear coat over the braze? Oh.

Like buried treasure.



See how these people treat sweet adventure bikes? This was perpetrated upon me while my bike was safely tucked into the cozy environs of a sleazy dive bar. Every now and again on the ride back home, I'd come across some new and (purposely) inconveniently located sticker. I guess I can't have nice things.


If you rode this, and have photos or stories to share, go over to the SLEAZE OTTER website and bother them. For my part, I can say it was the worst Sleaze Otter. Ever.
And that's saying a lot.


It always come to this.

this blog poses a choking hazard

...so don't swallow the naughty bits.




This shall serve as a reminder to all y'all intuders that the 5th Annual Running Of The Drunks known as the Sleaze Otter is happening this coming Saturday, April 16th. The weather is a GO! If rumors of course routing are true, this year looks to really shake things up compared to years past...75% dirt options? Road available at all times should you be limited by knowledge or bike choice. And, plus the Full Pink Moon has been graciously coordinated for the following night, so you know it will be a good time.

I'll post the flyer as soon as the degenerates "in charge" send me one...

Don't get caught napping with your pants down and miss this.



As an aside, in the interest of medical science, please note: if you have broken (or possibly just dislocated) several ribs and they begin to feel so much better in such a short amount of time (a week? seriously? they can't be broken) DO NOT POKE AT THEM to "see" about them. Honestly. That's a terrible idea. You will hear and feel a click, and then there will be the return of pain. Trust me.

Just say "one minute", and I'll be there.

I see that those clowns are at it again.

Rumor has it that this year will be both more and less organized than years past. A dirt course? What are they smoking?


Where do I sign?

head cheese them off at the pass

The kooks are coming out from under their rocks now that spring is sprang. Looks like it's that time of year again. The Sleaze Otter is slithering it's way back into this coastal burg, and implanting itself deep into the white, rancid folds of it's underbelly.

Ride early, ride often.

It is waaaaay more fun if you add an L, and a ZE, sucka

Sea Otter was up and down.

Overall I had a great time. The Joselyn's Booth was hopping and well executed. A well lubricated team, so to speak. Meet the new Frank! Organized chaos was the theme, with sales and massage and shi_talking and beer drinking all going on simultaneously under one very large roof. Seriously, Frank, hats off- that was well done. you made a lot of folks' experience better with your inclusive tent of wonders.

And by Sunday I was able to see the inclusiveness at the Sea Otter Classic. Which was a welcome and unexpected shift from Thursday's feel of schism. I just lik bikes, you know? Downhill suspendy super new school techno bendy latticework anodized (again with all that?) 650b (650BS if you axe me, which you did not) hydroformed latest material aerospace expensive "whips" or just a bike...it should be a sweet ride and a celebration, bitches. I was not feeling it that day. Maybe it was the jacked up stickered up raised up shut the _uck up vans and pickups aggressively proclaiming their "be a hero" hype. But all I could draw from the scene was a sense of dislocation and sadness at the way everyone passed one another with their attitudes in the air and their sunglasses on- like a day's worth of the shi__iest attitude you ever got from whatever shop nearest you it is that only employs snotty wannabe PROs who give you the once over and sneer. Downhill vs XC vs BMX vs Road vs hipster vs us. I suppose it is reflective of humanity (as in oh, the) that there exist these splits, but I say let's end the sectarian violence and just ride the damn bike.

I was bumming out. I had some good coffee and walked around a little more, looking for Goodness but it was covered. Several friendly faces were absent this year (economy, new babies, etc) and when you have been staggeringly out of your head drunk around these type of events enough times to wonder if you are getting that reception because of _____________at last year's Interbike or if you are imagining things you welcome an old friend like...an old friend.

I was pleasantly surprised to come across B. Spoke Tailor Nan Eastep, who was gracious and makes cycle specific clothing that really floats my boat. That was nice. The yahoos at Santa Cruz (you know who you are) went a long way also.

However, there is only so much sadness one 40 year old teenage girl can emote when in the presence of a cooler full of cold beer and a lot of bikes, so I got better. By Sunday, I loved everbody again (especially you). The boys had a good time checking out trialsin demos and jumpyhouses and icecream.

sLeaZE otter is best forgotten entirely, because those people are just no good at all.

round the outside

By now it's looking pretty shaky. Bad ideas, bad jokes, bad apples all around. If you know what's good for you, you'll show up on time.

Last year's was a total mess, the year before a complete fiasco- can we expect anything less in '09? Judging from the rumors and fluff- No. No we can't. I have heard there will again be a KOM competition, and it will be "for real". I have also heard it is impolite to question the Authority of those little men behind the curtain.

Be there, or miss a good time. I'm bringing a light, a blinkie, a bag, and a helmet.And that's it. OK. And a sweater, some warm gloves, an extra extra layer (it can get cold on the coast), a lighter, this book of matches, this paddle ball, this stool, and my dog Shithead- Ok maybe I don't need him. But that's it! That's all I'm taking.

Is it that time again?

Calling all lowlifes, lowbrows, lolos, hustlers, rustlers, 1%ers, degenerates, ladies and gentlemen (known as The Rat)...

It is on.

If any of y'all are coming out here for Sea Otter, you're stupid if you pass this up, it's just muuuuch easier on your constitution.

Is there life among the stars?

Long term exposure to rarefied atmosphere can lead to undesirable effects. So, while I did not attend the Sea Otter Classic this year, I can say for certain that there was that element in town that could be classified as "unsavory." Not least of which being the rotten folks behind that evening of bullshit known as the Sleaze Otter noClassic.Yep. Even I, who have been counted among their supporters, recognize they're totally out of control and should be stopped from planning anything more complicated or meaningful than a prison cafeteria menu. Crazy.
It started with the organizer, calling himself "Carmel Bob" (though I have never seen him around), showing up late and clearly half in the bag. He was made up like a wino Uncle Fester. Then, he wouldn't take the whole $6 entry fee, but insisted on us taking $1 bill back so we could "tip [our] bartender". Even the one straight edge kid, who sneeringly told him he didn't drink was told "I don't care what you do or don't drink you still gotta tip your bartender." So, sloppily, we were registered and sent off with no gun or pomp.The manifest was a list of destinations including a trip to Marina (12 miles each way along the bikepath and exposed to a bitter cold wind off the bay that night) to Mortimer's Card Room to find out "what time is it in Barbados?" There was a supposed King of the Mountains cash prime and trophy at the top of "one of the hill climbs".Etc...

What ended up happening? Well, at the bar to which we were routed in Veteran's Park, we stumbled into the previously scheduled Gay Pride Celebration sharing the bar with us. This worked out well for some, who received free beers and cake. I was not so lucky, nor attractive. Hmmmmm, coincidence?At the top of the climb the trophy had already been won (story of my life), so we just drank some beers and then were sent down a dark and twisty (DARK) road back into Monterey. We had to ride to a statue of a sea otter to get a secret clue which directed us to a tatoo parlor, where we found a box of sharpies and the instructions to write "PYT" somewhere on ourselfs, and the reason given was "because of what PYT really meant, suckas!" There were guys in zombie makeup riding aimlessly along the route handing out beers and quizzing us on zombie survival tactics- one of our crew told them we weren't telling zombies any part of our plans, which earned more beers and some raspy zombie chuckles. We made it to the finish at the bowling alley to find the promoter being accosted by disgruntled "racers" who questioned his ruling on the Barbados question...only one group got the right answer, and everbody else's stories weren't matching up in details or the spirit of the thing. The 1st place "winner" (who had not got the correct time) "won" a coffe cup with a picture of some citizen racer which was not only second hand, but coffee stained from use that morning without having been washed! Priceless. 2nd place (who also had not got the correct answer) received a picture frame shaped like a pink brick wall with a little fairy pedaling a bike up the side. He seemed much happier than either of the other podiumers. 3rd place received a much-used saddle that "Carmel Bob" claimed had been donated by Swobo? He then handed out prizes of varying legitimacy to all the riders. Sweet top tube pads from Yanco Pads, t-shirts from Swobo& Surly&Black Cat Bicycles&Poison Spider Bicycles in Moab&Hunter Cycles (t shirts and sweet hoodies), Surly flasks (the look on the yellow jersey guy when the flask went out to some random dude and he had a used coffee cup? wow, I was happy.), wool hats and Jethro tools from Surly, camo hats from Swobo, and more? Yep. The joke was only on whoever could ride their bike to some potentially chaotic and certainly entertaining locales and not have a good time. And yes, the "top"3 got some good stuff, too. I must say, my favorite was the guy who "won" the 2 1/2 foot tall KOM trophy. In order to claim his payout, he was required to bring the trophy with him for the rest of the "race", to the finish. He skipped the Mortimer's leg (which was 24 extra miles by bike) and was denied his cash and dnfed. And, he had opted to ride the thing with no bag! Yes. Hand carried. That trophy had clearly been dropped (or thrown?) several times by the time I saw it at the bowling alley. It was rickety and bent. photo courtesy of the KoM winner...Lord Hayden

Man, I had a Good Time. Big thanks to those who put the event on and helped out! That's a thankless task, so thanks. If y'all don't do it, it won't get done.And to the sponsors, too- thank you. It matters to me, and those who matter, whether a company backs up their "marketing image" with some real support. Otherwise it's all talk. Not so here. If you need stuff, get it from these folks.

What time is it in Barbados? Come on. It's effing PARTY TIME. That's what time it is. A lot of you suckas missed out.

Up(and)coming Events

SLEAZE OTTER LOOMS ON HORIZON LIKE A DRUNKEN ALBATROSS! CITY FATHERS CONCERNED...SPONSORS WEAVING IN AND OUT OF SPONSORSHIP LIKE A BUNCH OF TRAINJUMPING WINOS. LOCAL GIRLS WARNED TO STAY INDOORS....

And so it goes. Inneresting rumors around town with regards to this most mercurial of local bike "race"s. All's I know is- I better get them chacha heels. Word on the boulevard has it that the effing course is not even set, yet?!? C'mon, people...don't do us like y'all did last year and let the participants make poor decisions in the heat of competetition. And, plus my sources in the back rooms and bordellos of old Monterey tell me that there may be something along these lines in the works. Playing it safe may be your best bet, but I'm putting my money where my outfit is-buried in the ground and aging to mouldy perfection...
Speaking of lines, apparently lines are already being drawn in the sand blown across the bikepath in regard to what bike to ride (and, sadly, whether there is a correct bike to ride), and if there is rampant glamourisation of poverty implied by the very crassly worded flyer? I say, play it by ear with a 6 pack to go and whatever rig suits your fancy pants.


Mini Rant: Why can't we, cyclists, be nice to ourselves when we meet us? Everybody else wants to run us over...who cares what kind of bike somebody else rides?!? They're on their BIKE, not you. Hipsters on fixxxies does not lessen the value inherent in riding connected, just as road bikes are swoopy and fast and don't lessen the offroad ride...Jesus _uck, people.

Sleaze Otter, bitches.

So I saw this on the bummer life.

I rode in the inaugural event last year, and I can say it was top _ucking notch. The course was demanding the way we rode it,as poor decisions were made by all. I remember at one point being told the climbing was over only to turn the corner at Veteran's and hear the gal next to me gasp "Oh God..." as the next upward pitch revealed itself. Poetry. Then there was the beer-or-spin-on-the-bat option at the top of the hill....Good Times. I'm looking forward to this year already. It'll be the only Sea Otter event in which I participate...

Spoke with the organizers, and they report that there will be manned checkpoints this year, and Zombie makeup in effect. Apparently, the Zombie Plan refers to your decisions regarding personal conduct in the (likely) event of a zombie Apocalypse...so start thinking/watching old zombie flicks now to formulate your best course of action. There will be a test(s).

The Men Behind the Scenes also claim that there will be prizes from Swobo, Surly, Yanco Pads, Hunter Cycles, BlackCat Bicycles and potential latecomers up for grabs; and a generous cash payout (ok, I made that up in the hopes of starting something) for me. No word on course- they're being very closemouthed- or the rumor that Thriller will be playing in a continuous loop.


Anyhow. There's not enough opportunities to ride around experiencing the seamy underbelly of Monterey, so take what you're offered by the "beaver of the sea."Ahahahahaha, genius.