a Valentine from a politician

Worth as much as the paper on which it's printed. That sums up this blog, and it accounts for all your race results, too. Don't kid yourself- if it ain't ____ it's worth less. I fill in that blank with the word "FUN", you do what you want since you will anyhow.

It was off to the races, in with a shout, and ending with a whimper. I will allow I considered vomiting as a real option at one point. That sand pit(!), and the barriers at the top of the climb (especially the staggered 3rd...)? Dastardly. I enjoy that shit. Cyclocross racing (the riding never stops- it's the perfect bike for these parts!) is here again, and we cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war. Battle! I am a very middle of the pack racer, but. But, I love a battle where I find it. I enjoy stuffing people in the corners wherever possible. I find a deep satisfaction in kiping someone else's clean line. It pleases me to hear the grunts of effort and despair in my wake. I am sad when people come from behind and I cannot answer. There is joy in barbed heckles.



Where were you when we filled the tub of water with ice from the cooler and blasted the racers with stream machines (shoots up to 70'? lies. But it will hit a mean 15' in the face. You know, if you're OK with it. Don't wanna ruin any strangers' or contenders' race...)? What were you doing instead of waiting to pile on the goodie spray as the As swung their fists at the orca pinata? We stuffed it with 80's NIB flouro bar tape, cowbells, coozies, tootsie pops, and corn nuts. A couple pairs of gimme plastic sunglasses which, surprisingly happily survived the bashing. And we waited. We waited until the As for that stunt, thinking they are the ablest bike handlers, but it's a double-edged pinata bat on account of how serious they tend to take the racing part of the race...maybe Bs next time.

So. CCCX#1 went well. Back at it next week. If you hear this:



know that's us and come join the party.

trashy and vicious

We have a weekly ride of sorts over here. It's loosely organized at best. We try for one or both weekend nights, and folks show up as they can. It's a small pool from which to draw, the shallow, murky pool of people who enjoy both the party and the ride. I may have mentioned this before. The Monterey peninsula has been called (rightly, in my opinion) the home of the newly weds and nearly deads. Which is to say there is not a lot going on- particularly bike-culture wise. So, a pool which would be small anywhere is very small indeed on the central coast.

Still, the surest way to have fun is to make some yourself.

I myself am very motivated in this one area. So after the back and forth texts of excuses and "reasons" (you know my views on the texting- it just allows any plans to remain open-ended until go time and beyond for some people. Maximum flake out potential. Gah!) I showed up at the shop to meet the one other potential attendee. Tales of personal woe and claims of tiredness and such ensued. I looked my bro right in the eye and said, "You are fucking up." What else is there to say? He knew it and I knew it, so I left. Rolled out the door to stop at the corner store for some tall boys- because I do like drinking and riding (and owning up to it on blog posts) so all a you pussy boys with your high tone set an example bullshit can get a load of that. pffffthp.

While loading large cans of cheap beer into my frame pack, I reflected on the choices we make. I know that brother is not riding any of the other days -much less nights- of the week. He is a working father with school in the bargain. I realize his situation. I also realize it is easy to turn down hard things, and riding up these particular trails, while not technically difficult, is strenuous and in the dark to boot. Which, I know, I know, is a selling point for some.

So I rolled back on over to the shop and knocked at the door and then knocked at his flimsy denials until he did the right thing. Then we rolled up the hill and into the dark for the one night a week we currently have of Good Times.

If you need it plainly, here's the crux- this is what you like to do. What else is there?


*photo from the inexhaustible il dolore

the accomodating circumstance

I hope you are getting your miles in.

Smiles over here aboard a few rigs, but lately mostly the plastick street bike. I have said it out loud and in person as recently as just this morning: road riding is as fun as mountain biking. Sure, I have to make a little bit of a icky face while spitting that out, for form's sake, but that takes nothing away from the Truth of it. Fun is fun, and where I'm sitting fast enough to bring tears to your eyes counts double. The extra bits, such as how you can swoop all over the place and pull Gs in the corners if it's swept, well that's piling excess on success. You might wanna put on your power clothes and get a hold of some of that.

The extra extra? Sheeeeeeeeeit. Only reason you can't take that one trail is because- wait, why can't you? Oh, come come. Horses for courses and all, but you'd be surprised.

what you have been waiting for

That for which.
Soul. Soul. SOUL.

And, plus I took "ownership" of this yesterday:

That is correct. Your eyes are seeing a plastic, electrified version of a street bicycle. That is the photo with which I announced to my friends that I am, variously: a "sell-out", a hypocrite, "thinking outside the box", and a f*g (disclaimer- c'mon. I know how this was intended, and by whom, and we love the gays. They have the best clubs and good senses of humor. No disrespect.)&that "I'm pretty sure [I] have to shave [my] b-sack now"...depending on who is talking. My own sweet wife said it looked ___. No one loves it.


You're all jealous losers.


That is a bicycle I would NEVER purchase, even if I could. It goes against every tenet of cycling and Life I hold dear save one- holy afterburners, Batman! that thing is going to be a _other_ucking rocket. So fast.

I am against child labor in foreign countries. I am dead against plastic. I am deader against electrified shiftiness. I am against radial lacing- ain't seeing even 175lbs ever again. I am against internal routing- seriously, what a pain in the ass. I am against glaringly silver chainrings on an otherwise matte ride.

Why do I "own" it? Well, because it rides so nice. At our shop, we have what's called a "dealer agreement" and are required by this to purchase a certain number of bicycles at certain price points. Our owner, who is not coming at this from a cycling background, is coming at this from a background of being a flexible and open-handed fellow. To satisfy part of this agreement , he has instituted the policy of employee leasing- whereby we agree to build a certain number (so lowball! if you could have been there for the late night drunken speculation at the New Stairs regarding what that number might turn out to be..) of bikes off the clock in exchange for the use of the bike (almost whatever one we wanted) for a year. Next model year, the bike will be sold at cost and we all win.

So now I have the perfect storm regarding this plastic, electrified street bike. I grudgingly concede that carbon fibre rides hella sweet. But that ish breaks and is breakable. This frame is made from the orphaned tears of tatterdemalion(!)  6 year old Taiwanese robotic orangutangs, not by one of my so-called "friends" down the road. I would never, ever purchase it for myself, even if I could afford it. If my frame is made from blood sweat and tears- they should be the blood, the sweat and (most of all) tears of someone I can heckle at the local cross race.

As for the electric, well- it's middle fingers up to all of you, and especially to me. Gimme some friction shifting barcons and all is well. Repairable. Unbreakable. But- hand it to me for a year? Why the efff not?

So. I'mma show up at the Makers Meet tomorrow in Santa Cruz and talk mad shit about how great this bike is...from the back.


And if y'all need more, check this out.

a smooth operator operating correctly

Being a loose cannon cyclist who doesn't play by the rules will leave you typing one-handed missives of bike crashes, whilst sitting around in your underwears. Missing riding, NAHBS, and even work...

If my life were an action movie, hitting a trail-closed cable spinning the fixed wheel bicycle at 25mph would be a lot more glamorous and a lot less painfully inconvenient. 1st things 1st- I'm OK. Getting knocked the eff out did not give me any brain issues (yeah, yeah, yeah) it only destroyed my brand new expensive helmet.


Which, by the way, if you're one of those "helmets don't do any good" yabbos, you can go screw. That thing flat-out helped.


The spectacular header snapped my front brake cable clean in 2, though the rest of the bike is fine. I was able to ride home one-armed. I must have caught the bars with my knees on my way, as they are achy and swole. Middle fingers on the left hand are swole up and blue. Right shoulder is seperated at the AC, and the clavicle end is fractured. I have to see an orthopedic surgeon asap, to start moving on this. I don't know how bad the separation is yet (ER only Xrayed and prescribed pain meds, but did say it looks like a 2" gap...frowny face) so we will see. I may need a bad operation.

If my life were an action movie, this would just be character development.



Thankyous! to the fellow riders who helped me up/home and who did NOT call the ambulance and sucker me into a huge bill.

Oh, the humanity

Lady came in today and haggled and haggled and then wanted 10% off for life.

"We're spending a lot of money here. Oh, you can do this. Come on. You can do this. You can. You can do this." A little sing song of avarice. I wanted to slap her so badly.

What? The? F?

No. She wasn't crazy. That would have been much more tolerable.

take no chances

Today at the bike shop.

I had a lady come in and return a $200(I know, neither would I) mountain bike helmet because she "already had a pink helmet" but had wanted a white one to match her other jersey, but upon reflection decided it was silly to spend that money on a helmet just for the color. I was with her so far. Then she wanted to know what the differences between helmets were (shape/ventilation/weight...they all- even (especially?) the kids' helmets have to pass the same impact tests) and which was lighter than the one she was returning. Well, none. That's a big part of why the helmet cost $200 (I know, neither would I). Soooo, X is close in weight but it has unattractive graphics, and Y is close in weight and comes in white- but it's a...a...road helmet.

Yes, but all helmets pass the same- yes, you can wear a road helmet to ride your mountain bike. People do. I prefer road helmets for their streamlined shape and visorless magnificence, and I ride the heck out of some trails. No, but you can wear a cycling cap under your helmet if you need a visor.

I almost laughed because my 1st reaction was: "Oh. Good one." But this poor gal was not joking, she was genuinely stressed.


I (I thought) talked her down and sold her a $60 road helmet (no visor), and credited her card the difference. Then she wanted to know if this helmet didn't actually come with a visor, and had I misplaced it, because the illustration on the box which showed how to properly position the helmet on one's head showed a visored helmet.

But: Even though "the last guy" (wha? I really don't see it) at our shop told her only a mountain bike helmet would suffice for mountain biking, and even though her father told her she "looked like a bug without the visor" causing her to try on the road helmet with 2 different pair of glasses to check for bug-like-itude and ultimately declare it OK, and even though I politely yet pointedly asked her if she were happy with her choice...20 minutes later I answered the call from our sister store where she was returning that helmet because her husband had told her that a road helmet would not work.




What the hell?

People. There is no wrong way to do it. Let yourself go!

...wait. Why am I in charge, again?

I am reminded of the sage advice offered up by Mysterious Bill S_____ as he lay, laughing from the diaphragm, upon the cold asphalt of a dirty parking lot:

"It's how you learn."

And while my son J had not been drunkenly attempting to literally stop on a dime with less than perfect success aboard a borrowed bicycle, he had been brazenly attempting to master the art of braking.


J is fine. His fork took a lot of impact...




Long time readers may recall the beginning of the riding to school on a regular basis.



This was proceeding well. Though J had shown some hesitation in coming completely to grips with the new to him 20" wheel (witness the crash into the sapling in Fort Ord months back as he cut the S-turn into an I-turn), he seemed to have a handle on things. Day 1 passed without incident. We talked about how important it is to NEVER crash into traffic, and how the only place to bail (barring a cliff) is over the side. We talked about looking where you want to go, and not at where you do not want to go- on account of you aim for your focus. Day 2, I did need to remind him to keep his feet in a level position to achieve max results from the coaster brake, but he managed just fine.

Day 3 was a different story.

Right away, at the top of the incline, he began picking up more speed than he could handle. Twice, I rolled up next to him and grasped the handle strap of his pack to slow him down. Twice, I reminded him to keep his speed under control.


The third time he began to pick up speed, he was already veering to the right. He was looking for the cut through we take at the bottom of the incline so as to avoid the well trafficked T-intersection. He veered too soon, and entered the drive way, not the cut through. When he saw the tree, he was going to fast to do anything other than crash. He looked at the tree and he rode right into it.



I was right next to him one minute, and the next he was peeling off into a tree.

He hit that tree square with his front wheel. He flew forward, impacted his thigh into the stem and pivoted thereupon to smack into the bark with his helmet. He had no time to get his hands up. Hit so hard it knocked his shoe off. It was like in the old cartoons, when a character busts through a wall and leaves a self-shaped hole with arms and legs akimbo. That was hard to see.



As I dropped my bike and stepped to him, my concern was for potential spinal injury. Though when I reached him, he was already moving to turn over, so I held his upper body still and brought him to my lap. I saw immediately that his helmet had taken the hit and there was no mark on him, but as I registered this, there was a gush of blood from under the brim which flowed pretty steady. Like a head wound will.

I told his brother D(who handled the situation with calm collectedness) to "call Mama and tell her to pick us up". Several passing cars stopped to ask if we needed help. L had only just left for work and took only 3-4 minutes to reach us, else I would have jumped right in that first Samaritan's car.

We had him at the ER within 15 minutes of crashing.

Then it was 4 hours to get him stitched. 16 total (4 sub-dermal, in the muscle belly, and 12 on the surface). It took longer because we insisted a plastic surgeon be called in for the sew-up. The cut is from the skin bursting as the helmet was forced against it, so there was very little that needed to be cleaned out of the wound. Imagine if it had been the tree...


As we wait for a crash replacement fork for his beater, I ride J to school on the back of the Big Dummy. He was hesitant about even this at first. He has been on several off-road rides since then (this happened over a month ago), and is getting back into the swing but his enthusiasm is greatly diminished. I hope he gets it back.



No parent wants to have their child hurt.

I think about what I did wrong: I should have taken more time with him getting comfortable on the bike before heading to school- it seemed like he attached a different and weightier significance to riding to school than to just riding along... I should have maintained a grip on his bag and slowed him completely rather than letting go when he was (to my mind) "under control"- unbeknownst to me at the time, he wasn't applying his brakes at all, he was letting me slow him... I should have let him decide when he was ready to ride to school- it's unfair to push my choices on him, and walking is a perfectly viable option even if it is dullsville.


I think about what I did right: with the help of my fantastic wife, I raised a little badass-that was a hell of a wallop...I stabilised his head-spinal injuries are no joke...I made him wear his helmet, and positioned it correctly-anyone who wants to haggle over helmets' usefulness can suck it while they go look at those helmet pictures again...I made him get back on the bike-though it may not end up his joy in life (as it is mine), allowing him to drop it because he had a set back would be the worst lesson I think he could be taught. Even if all he learns is that his old man is a hardass, he won't learn to be a quitter.


We all fall down. That's Life. The only thing to be done then is to get back up.

get this party started

Right?



2010 started for me when I was lost in a boozy haze in the dark on a bike ride with "friends". No better way if you ax me. That damn trail eludes me even cold sober in the day light, so it was no surprise to see that little flicker of the group's lights any number of ridges away and below. Nothing for it but to stay high and keep keepin on. It did cross my mind that I might be spending the 1st night of 2010 lost, alone and cold. Would not have surprised me at all, at all. Might have been fitting, but I'll take this happy reunion and subsequent self-torture/hour-plus-climb as a symbol of all the goodness coming my way this fine year.

Woo hoo! Good wishes for all my friends!

gimme that old time religion

This is in rotation today.





image from here

Preferably one with some dolls and pins and wax&blood effigies. Definitely one wherein we ride the bicycles and there is Suffering.

I drove down to an undisclosed location in Big Sur to meet J__ and P______ for a singlespeed jaunt up the coastal range.





Pave up up up , and dirt down.



P______ ended up no showing as he was sick, so it was down to 2. J__ observed that the light is now Autumn Light, and she is right. There was a nice coolness all day, though the bugs were still after some time in your orifices.


We stopped for a short hike to check on the albino Redwood. We weren't sure what damage the fire last year had done. Yay! The albino is still there. It is shrubby now (like it's siblings) but seems well. The color is much more yellow now as opposed to the pale milk it was before.




The fire has changed the landscape quite a bit. Sheer creek walls now are blown out and full; the beds are wider and flat, the result of many BIG downed logs making retaining walls of sorts. Look at the Redwoods in the above picture; it was crazy to see how furry the new growth is. On some trees, the fur extended out along the horizontal branches as well. All in all, I like the new landscape. Especially next Spring, when it really starts to recover.





Topped out over-looking the Pacific. Rode every bit of the up, which was nice. Note to self: remember to take the trail at that one flat point, and then head down/right.

It was fun to ride the zippy Black Cat singlespeed (which needs a re-wrap) after 2 solid weeks of hefty/long Karate Monkey kludged singlespeed action. I could maneuver much better, and the climbing position was waaaaay better. I did miss the suspension fork on the top rattly section, but this bike is rigid only and everthing is a trade-off somewhere.

I am tired.


************************************************************************************

When G__ and I awoke on Monday in Moab, we went directly to the Love Muffin cafe for a rushed breakfast on the way to meet the shuttle for Burro to Town, which is now called "The Whole Enchilada". If you are in Moab and want some excellent Chef's Meat (it can be vegan), I recommendo the Love Muffin 100%. Even though the cook looks real shady and all. I'd post pictures, but I didn't take any- and the crazy lady who has some up on the interwebs will track me down and beleaguer me like a pesty gnat if I co-opt hers.

The shuttle was not the private affair I'd been led to believe. Softy! You owe me a bike ride! It was the commercial 9:30 ride up to the La Sals. We had to ride up with a party of unknowns. The driver ignored our repeated request to stop for beer. Requests which were seconded by the 2 fellows sitting in front of us, whom G__ referred to as Curly and Moe. You know it's bad when we can refer to some other crew as "the drunk guys".





Top of Burro. 11,000+



Moe. Who owes me some pictures! We drank some of their beer, and they drank some of our whiskey and we all rode bikes down a lot.





Pointing out at Castle Valley and Porcupine Rim. We're headed there and then some.






Looking back up the rim toward what we came down.



We even took naps.


Again if you are ever in Moab (and sometime everone who rides should go) I recommendo this ride over any other. Ridiculous amounts of singletrack with solid foundation Moab riding style finish. The upper singletrack section(s) of Porcupine are game changingly awesome.

Finally, allow me also to (again) point you at a local business: Poison Spider Bikes. Well stocked and equipped. High end rentals, parts and repairs. Top notch staff. TJ, I know you may be a little sour about having had so much of your combustibles combusted, but you made my Burro ride with the help that morning. Thank you. The Pivot Mach (!) 429 I demoed did not wow me, but the service backing it up did.