Now is the time to thank the wife for allowing me to get out of the hacienda so much this week. I know me being under her feet and in her way isn't her idea of a vacation so kicking me out works for both of us. Anyway, thanks for the three to six hours of leave given daily.
Tomorrow's ride is with Emma, should be a hoot and hopefully the start of something special for her!
Calvin-Kevin's alter ego and not nearly as cool as Bruce Wayne.
And if the downed trees weren't enough, you had to deal with this: Those leaves are slicker than snot on descents, and slicker than shit on rocky climbs. And this pic is not an anomoly, they're this deep freakin' everywhere.
Worst part of the ride though was when taking the ridge trail after about 2 hours it just disappeared; no trail and no blue blazes to follow. I spent a good 45 minutes trying to find the trail and once I found a trail it led me in the wrong direction. I started following the trail and arrived at the bottom of Mary's Cove. Last year I thought I had arrived at the top of Mary's. I went ahead and climbed to the top and had a feeling that all was not right so I turned and descended thru the Cove, and after about a mile I came across a hiker that assured me that I was now going the right way. That was the frusternating part. (Frusternating: an adjective that was coined by Emma when she was about 6 that is now a regular part of my families vocabulary. For other cool words see "Resternaut") Where I went wrong or were the trail went wrong I don't have a clue, but it was damn sure frusternating!
Still though, good times good times. Am I ready to go back? Not until we get a massive rain to wash some of those damned leaves away. All riding is good and is helping me in my goal of shedding this image:
Tomorrow's another Ralphie ride and hopefully I won't mangle Jake's wheel.
Today I decided I'd ride with someone new, someone thrilled to be out on the trails, someone ecstatic to be at Turkey, someone who'll always want to go, he's new to mountain biking but really excited and by the looks of him I'm sure he can stay out there much longer than I'd ever dream of; his name? Say hello to Ralph. (Ralphie boy for old SNL fans.)
Think he'll ever back out of a ride?
He's not too fast for me and he's not too slow for me; he's just right. He didn't exactly take to trail running like a duck to water but with the help of Ben Franklin and Marconi he figured it our fairly quickly. Marconi & Franklin? (See shock collar.) Ralphie only got about 20 minutes of riding and another 45 of walking at Turkey due to my fucking cassette freehub body breaking on a little climb. (According to this post: http://kungfubiking.blogspot.com/2005_10_23_kungfubiking_archive.html a freehub body now lasts me two months and one day.) Evidently the Shimano XT hubs are shit; so now I'm in the market for some hubs that are the shit. I know CK's the brand but man I'm not sure a Hollywood Ho would cost anymore than they do. I'll have to contact Hugh Grant to find out.
Thanks to a loaner rear wheel from Jake at T-Town tomorrow's ride will be a solo effort at Greenleaf. Hope I survive.
I hope to post several ride reports and pic's in the upcoming week due to vacation from Xmas Eve Eve thru New Years Post Post.
I found this, I hope this is what Buddy has in mind for his ole lady's bitchin' Element:
Man; Lib's and Jake would look cool showin' up at the BMX track with the Redline strapped on the back in this sick little baby. Maybe this is what he's getting her for Xmas.
Scab reports coming soon!!!
And no I don't really like the Element, it looks...uh...dorkie? Yeah, that's it, maybe even mega-dorkie!
Calvin-Soon to be hobbled
Ok. It’s the holiday season and the promised updates have taken a backseat as I’ve been too busy playing Santa. After all of the shopping this Santa needs a filthy ho ho ho.
The only thing more fun than fat girls is fat tires so maybe St. Nick will bring me one of these. I stole this pic from riderx over at http://www.singlespeedoutlaw.com/ If you’re not familiar with that site then maybe you should quit reading this pathetic drivel and go see what a real website looks like. He has a great write-up and linkage concerning this year’s Punk Bike Enduro. Too bad we’re so far away because that sounds like good times. As cool as a Pugsley would be I’m pretty sure that the Element in the pic will be added to our garage first as my hottie wife deserves a new set of wheels more than I. With 3 moutain bikes already in the quiver, if I buy another anytime soon a bicycles seat will be the only thing abusing my undercarriage. Speaking of abuse, if anyone desires a barely used Cannondale cyclocross bike I know a lazy bastard who has one fo sale. (with disc brakes and shit no less) If you’ve ever done ‘cross and really dig it my hat is off to you. Last year I read all kinds of huh-bub about it and it sounded like fun. Muddy conditions, beer tents, screaming friends…who wouldn’t dig that? Well, my first and only cx event consisted of warm dry weather, no beer, and me getting beat like a blind carpenter’s thumb. I did have one guy hollering for me. It was a pity holler but I appreciated it. Thanks Ray. I still planned to keep the ‘cross bike for road riding but, after seeing how many folks get turned into speed bumps these days, I’ve had enough of that to. If I ever want to do cyclocross again my singlespeed is more than capable of that. And if I ever want to put in long boring ass miles on the road… I won’t. Well, there’s another submission for the Shitty Blog Post of the Year competition. Hopefully we’ll get another one o’ them fandangled dee-gee-tul cam-ruhs soon and these will get better. I hope that everyone (ie: all two of you that read this) have a Merry Christmas. And to anyone out there listening, the Santa at our house digs vodka and thigh high stockings.
Go ride yo bike.
For sale: used Scott USA High Octane frame:
For sale: used Manitou Sherman fork:
A whopping $3500 value for the bargain basement price of $1200! Tree bark included at no upcharge! Those interested call Jason Jump (aka Rusty) at Sun & Ski sports in Tulsa, OK.
I saw Rusty yesterday at S&S; it was one of his first days back to work. I of course asked him how he was doing and he said he felt pretty good. His leg of course was hurting him, especially since he was supposed to be walking with a cane and wasn't. The prognosis is another 4-5 months off the bike. I did not ask him if he planned to go "big" again but he did tell me he was selling his frame & fork. I'm guessing the rest of the bike is trashed and therefore all that is left to sell are a few components. Rusty explained that he did a sweet 15' gap that he'd previously done during the race that day with no problems, but this time he was unable to control the speed he carried upon landing and rode off the trail and into a tree. His right leg had left the pedal and smacked the tree breaking his femur below the hip and above the knee! Ouchiemama! Of course the paramedics that were present for the race had since left and it only took a couple of hours for them to show back up! Imagine what was running thru his mind while laying in the trees agonizing in pain; one can only imagine. Here he is with happier thoughts:
Anyway if you want a good deal on a good slightly scratched (see warped and twisted) frame & fork give him a call.
Now the question is: Would I contemplate going "big" again after a crash like this?
Do Catholic ministers make good babysitters for young boys?
I won't be riding my bike today. It's fucking cold. If that is a newsflash then your mother should be locked up for letting you eat all of those paint chips.
Anyway now that Showtime's living up to his name I thought I'd top him.
See my newest ride:
That's right; that's what I'm talking about. Check out the funky shock placement and that sweeeet kickstand.
Since my cohorts now going big I thought I'd go small.
I stand corrected on my description of a "hardcore" biker. If 23° wasn't cold enough for you how about this:
In Wichita this morning I saw a male nurse ride his bike to work at Wesley Hospital; the temp? A balmy 2 degrees with a wind chill of -7°!!! Yeah he was geared up with some nice cold weather riding duds, but sheese 2°!
The normal question of “how big a boy are ya” has to be re-phrased to “how small r ur boys”? Could've sworn he'd be humming some Stefani "I'm just a girl..."
On March 3 of 1985 I dove into a farm pond and didn't see my boys for about 10 days. (Alcohol fueled of course.) Maybe, just maybe this dude will get his back for Christmas.
How do I remember that date? 'Cause that's the day I turned 21.
Calvin-Not nearly as hardcore as I pretend
As Calvin mentioned, this weekend was the first ride on my new Kona Stinky and I did so with mixed emotions. Part of me was stoked to finally be able to do some new stuff while the other, more realistic, part of me was scared that I no longer had a good excuse not to. Besides, if you climb higher than your friends simply by buying a taller ladder have you really accomplished anything? Well, climb figuratively I did. I was able to hit a few new lines that were out of my range on the Slayer that I usually ride. Climb literally I did not. The Stinky is heavier than Oprah’s ass in a pair of lead undies but then I don’t plan to don lycra and check my heart rate anytime soon. And by “anytime soon” I mean never. At any rate, I’m damn glad that I’ve got the Kona around now. I have no plans to “huck” or “go big” but hopefully this bike will allow some progression in my riding and be the push I need to build bigger stuff on my own property. Keep a heads up here for pics of that, future rides, and hopefully better posts.
Go ride your bike.
And no he wasn't a derelict.
Calvin-King of Staying Grounded
Good times good times....and a few rough times:
Talk about the yoyo of life; the last six days have either been really cool for me or really crappy for the wife or a kid.
Here’s a recap of the days:
Day 1: Tuesday little Isa’s sick with an upset tummy and diarrhea but I still got to ride with my brother-in-law from Cali, Richard. Rich is now a dedicated roadie with the legs and lungs to prove it but rode dirt in the past. It’s been six years since he’s mountain biked and most of the time you couldn’t tell.
I borrowed my first “real” mountain bike back from a friend. In March of 2004 I sold this bike with a new drivetrain, rebuilt fork, and brand new tires to a co-worker who eventually sold it to another guy I used to work with. It was obvious that this bike hasn’t been ridden at all since I sold it; hell the tires still had titties on ‘em. Anyway, we took Rich on the climb to dildo, did a few passes on the snake run, went to the little freeride area, north end of Hi-Chi, and finally the loop south of the lower parking lot.
Anybody that mountain bikes this time of year is in for a treat with the fall foliage erupting in a rainbow of colors, but I got to see something really cool when it comes to leaves. You see on the second run thru the snake run we rode in the following order: Whistler, Showtime, Rich, and then me. While riding the fast fireroad run into the trail I noticed Rich was doing some high speed drifting which is cool to see but scary as hell to do and I was impressed as shit watching Rich manhandle that hardtail like it was his little beeyotch. Once into the snake run I noticed he was once again drifting and overshooting berms here and there; then to my surprise a plume of leaves shot into the air as if someone had turned on a 200 hp leaf blower for a split second; the results:
Not too bad for a cat riding along in excess of 20 mph. I’m telling you that leaf show was a thing of beauty. Leaves literally flew 20 feet into the air, it was quite the spectacle.
But Hi-Chi was the funnest of all. Those fucking trees didn’t stand a chance with Rich in town. Rich rode this trail like Stevie Wonder...by touch. He shouldered every tree on that stretch of trail and that’s NOT a trail you want to be the slightest bit out of control on. He’d ping one good then be off the trail then get back to the trail then pong another. Most people would’ve quit and walked a bit but Rich was a big-time-gamer.
The final analysis was best said by Buddy:
“It’s a shame that dude is putting in countless miles requiring all power and no technical ability because technical ability he got in spades! Watching him teach that hardtail a lesson was great. It made me feel dirty for riding behind him on my bike.” (He rides a dual suspension Rocky Mtn.)
“Bicycles is hip. Bicycles + buddies is outa sight!”
So the big question was...did he like it? Oh yes indeed, he liked it so much that he asked later that night if we could squeeze in another ride on Wednesday!
Day 2: Little Isa’s still recuperating so we didn’t go to the farm as planned...soooo it’s off to Turkey again with Rich.
Today we rode Mi-Chi to the spider, ridge trail thru the rock garden, over to boner northbound, north end of millennium, back to spider, north end of boner, south end of millennium, and then lip buster. That’s a whole lot of technical shit for a guy that hasn’t ridden a mtn. bike in six years; and not one complaint...no bitching...no whining...just shits and giggles! Now if I could just come up with a nickname...
Day 3: Turkey day gone awry! Poor Emma got her version of the stomach virus and instead of runny poop had it coming out the other end. After a 2.5 hour drive to NW Arkansas we could only spend a couple of hours there until we returned to T-Town. I did get to help fry two turkeys though and man is that shit good.
Day 4: Emma’s recuperating and Isa’s bug is back! Aack; run away, run away! I’m one of those people you’ve probably heard of or know that are completely insane when it comes to washing their hands. On a normal day I’ll wash my hands 15-20 times, and when there’s an illness going around the house it’s more like 40 times per day. Mine are so dry now that they are actually cracking and bleeding.
I actually did do a little work on this day by playing golf with an old friend and customer of mine that’d moved away but is now in the process of moving back. I played like shit but held the loss to $1 to Smunky. (Should’ve been way more.) Welcome back Bob.
BTW, what the hell is a “Smunky”? Funny story hopefully made short: Real name’s Scott and I used to jokingly call him “Scottina”, then Tone-Loc comes out with the hit Funky Cold Medina which of course becomes Funky Cold Scottina. Then in a drunken stupor my brother throws down an effort to say Funky Cold Scottina but it comes out Smunky Cold Fartina; from then on he was Smunky. (Better than Fartina I guess.) How stuck is that nickname? It’s emblazoned on his arm now!
Day 5: BMX’ican day! Went to the ABA Grands today and had a hoot; you can read about it here: http://www.ababmx.com/index.php?page=default/newsview&newsid=169. One of the more amazing things here is watching the little five year olds riding around clipped in! Sheesh, I’ve been riding them for three years and they still scare the shit out of me. There’s way too much action to talk about here and I highly recommend everyone attend next year; the price is right...free! Buddies boy Jake rode in the six and under class and took 4th in the only heat I got to watch him in. It was awesome watching him ride around that track grinning from ear to ear. When asked later he simply said the track was “fun”. That’s how grom’s should race; for fun.
Day 6: Not much action; other than having your wife wake up sick and spend the morning tossing her cookies. Hopefully her full day of bed rest will help her recover quickly.
Here’s a funny story for the cyclists taken from some post on some website somewhere:
How to Call the Police
George Phillips of Meridian, Mississippi was going up to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window. George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing his bikes.
He phoned the police, who asked "Does someone live in your shed?” and he said no. Then they said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available. George said, "Okay," hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again.
"Hello I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now, cause I've just shot them all." Then he hung up. Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips' residence. Of course, the police caught the burglars red-handed. One of the Policemen said to George, "I thought you said that you'd shot them?" George said, "I thought you said there was nobody available?" (True Story) I LOVE IT
And here’s a story from Carla’s sister:
Seems a co-worker of hers had just gotten a new puppy during the week. When the weekend rolled around her husband was in the garage working on his car with the puppy by his side. After awhile he noticed that the gasoline he’d poured into a bowl to use as a cleaning agent was empty. He searched for the little pup but couldn’t find it. He went into the yard to find the little feller running around with a ton of energy. After a few minutes of this the dog began to slow and finally fell over....
No he didn’t die.....he just ran out of gas!
If you fell for that, like everyone did when told the story repeat after me:
We Todd Did
We Todd Did
We Todd Did
I’m Sofa King
We Todd Did
Next to last thing; who says Oklahoma is behind times? Why just this weekend I heard a song on the radio by The Specials that was released in about 1981! That’s only 24 years behind times! I’ve long been a believer in all things Ska and would normally see this as a positive; however 20+ years is a little much. In the future I do recommend all stations named “The Edge” or anything hip like that call me so I can tell them what cool music is.
And no I didn't forget, there's one last thing for Rich; I now bequeath you the nickname “Wiz”, no not Michael Jackson’s version, more along the lines of the Who’s Pinball Wizard for your exemplary work on Hi-Chi!
Whew, that was an epic post for my we todd did ass!!! If any of you out there know Wiz feel free to chime in with a comment or two and roast his ass.
Whether these homo's are correct or not is not for me to judge; BUT the fact that it's even debated pisses me off.
According to Encarta; culture is defined as:
Shared beliefs and values of a group: the beliefs, customs, practices, and social behavior of a particular nation or people
People with shared beliefs and practices: a group of people whose shared beliefs and practices identify the particular place, class, or time to which they belong
Shared attitudes: a particular set of attitudes that characterizes a group of people
First of all based on what the original posters thoughts are shouldn’t single-speeding be seen as a counter-culture? As mountain bike technology gets more sophisticated riding a rigid SS’er is the opposite. Call it old school or what you like; but just make damn sure you put a label on it ‘cause it’s got to be packaged before it can sell. I think that some people that are supposedly hardcore SS’ers view themselves as purists with a punk attitude. Problem is very few are. If you look at an earlier counter-culture called the punk rock scene and see what it originated from you’ll see that it had to do with not fitting in. If you look at the punk rock scene now you’ll see a big umbrella that covers artists who sell millions of albums. Is that what Sid Vicious saw in the future? No? He saw a future where kids could do whatever in the fuck they wanted. Would he have started a thread on wwwpunkrockreview.com bitching about where the status of the punk culture was and where it was headed? No. Hell he would’ve shunned computers totally. So if you’re upset with the SS culture what do you do? Ride a tricycle? A motorcycle? What’s next? My point is this: WHO GIVES A FUCK!!! SHUT UP AND RIDE YOUR BIKE!!! And lastly; why do you give a fuck? Are you cooler ‘cause you “care”? Fuck you; go ride your holier than thou iconoclastic cool ass bike. Just remember; whining is never cool.
So why am I building a SS? Because I think they’re cool, I like the simplicity of it, I like the looks of it, and by god I think they’re cool. (Redundant to make a point.) I don’t want one ‘cause technology is ruining mountain biking. Hell technology is making mountain biking ten times better. I love my Heckler; true I wish shit didn’t break on it all the time; but is that Santa Cruz’s fault, or Shimano’s, or Cane Creeks? Nope it’s mine. I did it. I rode it. I crashed it. And I loved every fucking minute of it. (Except the hikes back to the car, nope; didn’t care for that at all.) I’m building my SS for me. It’ll be mine. What will it look like? Don’t know. How will it ride? Don’t know. But it’ll be cool because...it’ll be MINE!!!
Here’s my big problem with this doofus:
I've concluded that the "moment" is over. It is sad, but it happens to many phenomenon’s (Burning Man, SoCal punk, Phish, etc.). I will ride my singlespeed forever, but I don't feel part of a cultural movement anymore. Pockets of resistance will live on, but the community is infiltrated.
Goddammit shut the fuck up and hit the pedals. The “moment” is over? C’mon man this isn’t a proposal you’re doing here waiting for the right “moment”, it’s you on your bike. Why in the fuck would you be thinking of anything while riding? Get over yourself. Why do you need to feel like your part of a “cultural movement”?
I wish this last piece was from me; it’s exactly the point I wanted to make.
SS Culture? 29er revolution? Give me a break. We are talking about freaking bikes here. I rode rigid SS bikes 35 years ago. Go to India or China and see how "unique" SS bike are. Sorry to disappoint you but the "moment" is not over because there was never a moment. It is posts like this that confirm that many who ride SS or 29ers, want desperately to be in a select group or part of a sub-culture. A little sad, I think.
Want a cool culture? Make one yourself; SS’ers have been around... well since bikes.
Again; shut the fuck up.
Be forewarned; this post contains graphic depictions of actual trail carnage:
After a nice day of riding Boner and doing a little exploring with Whistler we decided to end the day with a little jaunt south on Hi-Chi. All was going well with the usual dabs here and there with one small un-clip tump over until we met the family that was having a trailside picnic. There was a man in traditional western wear with his four boys taking it easy on a big rock enjoying lunch in the warm November sun. As we approach Dave asks if they've brought enough for everybody; a small chuckle was had by all and I started concocting a little joke of my own to add in the fun when the following happened:
This is where it gets graphic. Thanks to the power of the home PC we're now able to render computer generated graphics to relive events; it's almost spooky how good these graphics are. This is the beginning:
And now for the horror; if you've got kids have them look away: Nasty eh? Way technical right? Let me tell you that little slow speed lawn dart action hurt like a mother. The following injuries occurred:
· Two bruised thighs
· One badly jacked knee with two nice popknots
· Bruised chest
· Bruised forearm
· Sore shoulder
· Sore neck
Because everything happened in slo-mo I had time to check and see if I'd grabbed a handful o' brake; nope. Did I unclip? Nope. Is that rock moving toward my grill? Yep. One slight head adjustment to the left, right shoulder to rock, then craaaaccckkk goes the spine. Oh shit I think while laying there; did I just break my spine? No, the toes and fingers are twinkling fine. I may not know what it feels like to break your back but I damn sure now know what it sounds like. Sadly, if those four boys were hoping for mountain bikes for X-Mas I'm sure cowdaddy was X'ing those gifts off the list. (Sorry kids.)
Need I say it...UNCLE! You fucking rock strewn fucker. Even when I'm just mosey'ing you decide to fuck me? Well fuck you too bitch! Next time we meet I'm bring a sledgehammer and a Camelbak full of Snickers 'cause we're gonna be there all mother fucking day! You'll be like those Colorado buff trails everyone's alway ranting about.
On to the ride:
This just in...new favorite trail for flow. BONER northbound; wow do I feel like a dumbass. Been riding here for three years and just now thought hey, how about if I went DOWN the hill! What a fuckhead. Anyway, probably a mile and a half of semi-technical riding, lots of rock-to-rock sections, fast and flowy. Way cool.
Here's the opening salvo of the day:
Before you get there though you gotta ride this:
The climb at the end; well, here's where Showtime got to:
I actually made it a few feet past this, but I won't mention it here. (I don't want to hurt anybodys feelings. )
Why Showtime? 'Cause of things like this:
Believe it or not, that "rollercoaster" isn't nearly as rickety as the other shit these guys have built. However, what you don't see is their attempt to build a wall ride at the end. The Tulsa area orthopedic surgeons will be giddy like little fucking schoolgirls if they get an eye on that beauty. They better get ready for a slew of shoulder surgeries.
And finally, do you know what you get when you have a guy doing some cool shit, with perfect lighting, and a crappy camera?
Umm; Stretch Armstrong? Neanderthal man? Knuckle dragger? You decide.
To recap: One broke hub, several cruddy pic's; anything else? Of course, when I got home the wife says "How'd you rip your shorts?" WHAT, my new fucking Fox shorts?! God damnit! I've no clue how this could've happened.
It could've been worse though; David got a call from work after driving 50 miles and being within 1/2 mile of the lot to only hear that he needed to go back to work. Now that's mucho crappier than a little hub, photo, and short problem.
Carla and I started the day with visiting the kids teachers during their fall break. Somehow, even after spawning kids from my loins, Carla's done a hell of a job with these kids; they're smart, funny, and without a doubt beautiful. I spent the rest of the day with my father re-visiting my old passion; golf. I had a good time with mi padre; and actually played pretty well. I shot an 84 while using two creative mullies. Golf’s still fun but I sure don’t view it like I did before I started cycling.
I squeezed in a two hour ride at Turkey; the trails were in really good shape and would be great if we could get an inch or so of rain to pack the sand down that occurs when we haven’t had rain in a few weeks. Millennium and Boner were divine and mine; I owned those two; however my nemesis Hi-Chi paid me back in spades, scrapes, and bruises. I’m getting there though; I finally cleared a few sections that have haunted me for awhile. One of these days, after sessioning this trail piece by piece, I’ll clean the entire thing. I may have to get a tattoo to remember that occasion by if I ever do clean it. When evening rolled around we were visited by a lady from P.A.W.S. who brought a dog by for us to visit. Carla had viewed this dog in the 'net and it seemed like she'd be a good fit for our family, and she was. This dog's had both of it's front legs broken and is still wearing a cast on one of them.
We had decided during the visit Thursday to adopt Molly so she was spayed Friday and we picked her up that evening. After much deliberation by the girls a new name was finally chosen; say hello to Jessie:
Here's Jessie on her first sleepover:
I think you could say that she's melded with our family quite well.
Friday morning Carla and I painted Isabel's room a delightful shade of pink then visited the French importer of fine linens "Target" to do a complete makeover. As you can imagine upon arrival from a night at her grandparents with her new dog in tow, the new room was icing on the cake.
Whistler and I hooked up for a 3 1/2 hour ride at Turkey. Once again the trails were awesome and the weather was incredible. We rode in this order: climb to dildo, climb to top, first part of Boner to second half of Millinnium, second part of Boner to first part of Millinnium, snake run to Fairydust, back to spider then on to Hi-Chi. It was all pretty good clean riding up 'til that last trail. Hi-Chi extracted a little skin, a little pride, and a drop of blood or two. But, I don't think she knows who she's dealing with, I've got a date set with her for Monday and Tuesday evenings. I shall return! Here's the only pic from the ride that was worth a damn; it features David trying this short little tech climb I found.
I've yet to see anyone clean this; but my money's on that hip cat to do it first. After we finished riding the hard shit we meandered down to the south trail, to Larry, Mo, & Stacy. (Not Curly 'cause Stacy ate shit there hard once, and since him and Curly have the same hair style we exchanged the name) Then on to Lo-Chi, sure alot of people claim this is a beginner trail; but for pure fun, flowing trails at Turkey; it's tops.
Slept in, mowed the lawn, and fucked off!
It would be hard to say which day was the best. Each day had benefits that were on a lot of different levels and all good.
On to other things:
First; some people just can't stand it when a guy is enjoying life; look at the shit I take from a so-called" friend":
"I hope that your exhausting week doesn’t get you to run down. Poor fella. You’re probably being forced into sex as well. Libbi and I will keep you in our prayers."
That just ain't right; and no I wasn't "forced", I did it willingly! You jealous fuck!
And last but not least; if you're in Oklahoma, and you pull up behind a car with cigarette smoke billowing out the window, with this license tag:
She's probably already spoken for; all the good one's are. But really; who the fuck still represents the "3" all over their rigs, the dude's been dead for four years now. So 3's been gone for 4 so let it go, especially if you're a chick. The guy you're impressing with that is probably your dad. All the other dudes who see you with this think one thing: "Po White Ho". So drop it snaggletooth and get one with daisies on it to represent the inner lady you're suppressing.
Oh, I almost forgot; I found this cool little deal too:
I took this pic the day before we took her to the vet for the last time. She kinda looks content, but this is all she could muster.
Here's how she'll be remembered by me and others:
Me and that old girl had a lot of fun together back in the day when birds and time were plentiful. The day she died everyone reflected on their favorite memories:
- Isabel: Reba rubbing her chin along the length of the couch and chair to dry it off after getting a drink of water
- Emma: Sleeping with her front end on the floor and her rear end on the hearth of the fireplace
- Carla: Every morning Carla let the dog out, fed her, and gave her dog biscuits. Upon re-entering the house, up until the very end, Reba would come in like a pup, running around with way too much enthusiasm for a 14 yr. old dog
- Calvin: The way her lip would hang up and she'd walk around looking like a doofus (Of course she didn't know and really didn't care.)
Those were the later in life memories; earlier memories include:
- Stuart: Picking her up when he bought her and seeing the mass hysteria of all the puppies
- Stuart: Her slashing across the course in Kansas on her way to winning the Derby stakes
- Calvin: Her being on point while standing in a pond
- Calvin: The "what the fuck" look she gave me when she pointed a covey of about 50 birds and I emptied my gun, reloaded, emptied again without a single dead bird! (My father in-law did the same thing. I think we both got a tad too excited!)
- Losing her in Sand Springs for about three hours only to find her on point, on her belly, with a bird about 3 inches in front of her face. (I of course missed that one too and got another "WTF" look from her.) Her and this bird must have had a serious détente. For a dog and quail to be eye to eye, with the dog on her belly, means that one: they'd been there awhile, and two: Reba moved very slowly and subtly to be able to go from standing to laying without the bird flushing.
She was obviously a special dog that meant more than just a good meal to a lot of people.
Your extended family will miss you honey.
Somebody who does, or did, and may again in the future is Jason Jump. He along with the world's tallest bike mechanic, and Steve Mullen are the only guys I've actually witnessed hitting the big drops and jumps at Turkey Mtn. I know others do, like Nate (Cooter Brown) but I've never seem them. I have however seen them working their asses off building stuff for them to shred.
Hold on, I'm getting to the point here. Monday I peruse to the local rippers' site, http://www.tulsafreeriders.com/ and read the following: 10/10/05: The Benefit ride for Jason will be this weekend 10/15 and 10/16. Some of us will be heading up friday night as well. The event will be held at Devils Den in Arkansas. There will be riding all day Saturday and party Saturday night and optional riding on Sunday. Food Saturday night will be provided. There will be a shuttle running all day Saturday and we are working on getting some swag to give away. A donation of $50 per rider is expected.. but not required. Please come out and enjoy a good time for a good cause!
OK, local guys bad off, but how bad; here's the reply from Steve (webmaster and serious huckaholic) as to the severity of the injury(s):"Hey, we will be holding it this weekend at Devils Den, you should come hang out and ride. Jason broke his femur (big leg bone) and crushed his wrist after the last race, we went up for a few more runs after the race, he wrecked on the first run, pretty nasty, he is doing pretty well now."
Pretty well...now? OK, I think I'll stay on the ground for...now! Remember, I've got a hot wife and two kids; I can't afford to go big, and go to the hospital, and go broke, and go find another wife 'cause after a bone twister like that this one would finally complete the puzzle that I AM A BIG DUMBASS. She's sniffing it out now and surely a stunt like that'd be the last proverbial straw. Here's a great pic of the trio at the Alamo.
BTW, wanna see Jason Jump jump? Go here:http://www.tulsafreeriders.com/Jasonvids.htm
Get well Rusty.
Man the luck is changing. Last week sucked but ended on a highnote and this week is off to a killer start; I had a good day at work yesterday; picked up my wagging tail dog from the vet; then kicked some serious ass last night winning not one but two poker tourneys! See Cha-Fucking-Ching!!!
Here's the dog and kiddo's before her weekend spa vacation.
She's looking pretty sad there.
Here she is back when she was feeling better:
Welcome home dog, hope all remains well. Want some lemonade?
A lot of activities this weekend; both good and bad; so here’s my pros and con’s of the four days:
Got to ride Saturday
Got to ride Sunday
Took youngest to the zoo
Good quality time with Hot Sauce ;)
Dealer rides again
Dog ruined the carpet
Spent Friday at the vet office
Little E was a no show at the trailhead
Moved a big rock, accidentally
No ride Thursday
No ride Friday
Dealer’s out of here
OU got killed
That’s the day of carpet cleaning and mass whining on my part. The term shitty day seems fitting and yet still comes up short.
Spent the morning at the vet office, but the afternoon was much better since I got to spend some quality time with my Hottie!
Finally got to ride for 2.5 hours Saturday morning. The trails were perfect, the weather a little chilly, and it was quiet because Little E pulled a “No-Show Jones” on me. Good morning equals crappy afternoon; my beloved Sooners got their ass handed to ‘em by the “Buns a flexin’ Texans”. Oh well, Mack’s still the coach, he’s 3-5 against OU. As long as he’s there OU should do well longterm.
Rode again and this time with Dealer. It was his first time on the dirt since our trip to Crested Butte back in July. Got to see a few nice SS’s having a blast, and one sick dude doing lip buster on a cyclo-cross bike; now that’s intense! Also, while cruising along a trail the rock gods paid me in full when a large rock tangled with the front wheel. How in the world a 26” wheel moving at 5 mph could dislodge a 25 lb. rock that’s buried 4” into the soil I don’t know. What I do know though is that when this happens all forward momentum ceases and the rider gets a soil sample, bruised thighs, sore knee, an aching calve, and a ripped yang. (See my high school terminology for that one.) That fucking rock moved a foot!
After the ride I spent the afternoon with my youngest girl Isabel at the zoo. This kid’s a zoo fanatic and at age six could give a professional tour guide the creeps when it comes to her knowledge of the local zoo. The weather was perfect and so was she. Of all the things I do with my kids taking them to the zoo is tops. My kids love to be outdoors, love animals, and are at their happiest at a zoo. The only negative I ever hear from my kids at the zoo is: “Do we have to go now”. Way to go Isabel, thanks for making what had been a cruddy vacation end on a high note.
Last thing; Friday's Dealers last day here at work; good luck hoser.
Needless to say, I didn't ride. My motivation had been robbed, maybe tomorrow I won't have anything holding me back.
Oh yeah, Mountain Mike got a new Trek. Hopefully I'll get to see it in person some day; though it won't be for long since he'll ride away from me due to he races and I just like to ride.
Let me explain to all the shit I put up with from a pal. See I try to be "cool" at all times, but when you've got a bud that makes you spew Mt. Dew on the keyboard and everywhere regularly it's hard to maintain coolness with Dew streaks on my business casual clothes. I recently sent either an article describing the above bikes or a picture to Buddy about these bikes. Obviously the Surly on the right is built more for a guy my size; or a masochist 'cause surely that dude ways like 100 lbs., and the one on the left is more for a roadie who wants to dick around with the dirtbags occasionally. And if you know where we ride then you know neither of these should see the local trails.
Anyway, this un's about Buddy/Showtime/Boudreaux/funnyboy. Before you read his email reply click the link to see what some sick fuck is going to attempt on the fat boy bike: http://www.wildworks.co.nz/csr/home.php, impressive eh?
So forging ahead; here's the email reply from B/S/B/f:
I think I could get my next frame from Frankoma and it would last longer. :)
Interesting collection of bikes you sent me. One carbon fiber Christmas ornament and one tank. I’ll take the tank ten times over. I’ll pass on the route through “the most remote and inhospitable areas of West Australia” though. Damn. Who chooses to do this shit? When I’m choosing places to ride my bike, or do anything for that matter, I tend to avoid those described as “inhospitable.” I can see this cat describing things to his friend with a giant smile on his face. (Please try your hardest to do these next lines with the best Steve Irwin immitation you can conjur up. ed.) “I rode for days across this giant shithole and it was AWESOME! It was unbearably hot, there were poisonous snakes around every rock, and if anything had happened to me I would have died lonely and uncomfortable. I ended every day gargling diarrhea and jacking off with a hand full of cockleburs while I shoved hot embers in my ass and listened to Toby Keith’s Wanna Talk About Me. Wow!”
I know, I know; you want more of him and less of me; but he's shy, not gayly shy, just blog shy. I'll keep prodding him (not gayly) to join in and at least share this'un with me 'cause I don't care who you are, that shits funny. Rock on B/S/B/f! damn u da man
If it doesn't work there'll be hell to pay even though I don't know by whom. (Probably my ankles, shins, and kneecaps though.) Man, I hate when shit doesn't work out like it's supposed to.
Buddy and I did the singletrack and cheeseburger ride Sunday afternoon. What’s a burger&track ride you ask? Well, I didn’t realize this beforehand but evidently it includes lots of burrs, goat heads, and gobs of climbing.
We took off from Boudreaux’s house and headed up the 1st of many climbs of the day, this one on asphalt though. With me grunting and working up a sweat Buddy was just chattin’ away. I either need to lose about 40 lbs. or he needs to gain 40 ‘cause this was a one-way conversation for awhile. After the first hill we had about a ½ mile coast until well; a mofo of a hill. After this grunt we finally got to where the fun began. On the dirt roads around Bristow there are many trails that lead to oil related equipment. These roads either are or can be turned into something fun; and those that aren’t fun I hope will turn into something fun after deer season. (See the previous post; it’ll prove that it’s close to deer season here.) Looking at land as potential riding spots instead of riding spots is kind of surreal. You see what you could do given the time and opportunity and can almost be overwhelming if you think big. (Need backhoes, discs, box blades, large equipment, quit your job, be a trail builder....tons of grant money, cool landowners, lots of beer, etc.; Get the point?) No matter what, I recommend to anyone with a decent bike to hit some backroads, find either cow singletrack, deer singletrack, or even man made double track and go exploring. However, you should watch out for deer trails that head into the woods that have a thick covering of oak trees at the entrance. I found out the hard way that those limbs have a tendency to grow towards the entrance, not away from you. Ever been stopped dead in your progress by about six formidable tree limbs? It kinda sucks!
I often tell people that mountain biking and even road riding made me feel like a kid again. It still does to a degree; but not the same as before after this day. Why? Because this is the shit I did when I was a kid; often times with a fishing pole in hand, but always wandering aimlessly, looking for a place to ride, a place to fish, or somewhere to just go have fun.
Thanks Buddy for inviting me down and hope I get another invite sometime again. This time I may even refrain from dropping the stink bombs on the trail for you to enjoy. Who am I kidding, it’s who I am, it’s part of my being; I’m a man, I am a fartin’ machine and damn proud of it!
I would love to be able to say that someone else discovered this jewel, but sadly that blame rests squarely on my shoulders. Imagine your bleary eyed with your heart pounding after you clear this techie little puppy, you look to your left, and think is it? No it couldn't be; I'm just seeing things, oh fuck it is...and it's freakin' HUGE!!!
This little beauty hits you in the eyes right off the bat; it took me a year and a half of riding before I ever cleaned this beaute, after that I owned it....until lately.
After this section I went to Hi-Chi to get a few pic's of the toughest section of it; and of course the pic's don't do it justice, and no I didn't clean this'un today, or ever...but I'll keep trying.
Went on to ride the Millenium trail after that and caught a glimpse of some true nature. It's hard to believe that you come across this right in the middle of the city:
You'll have to excuse the quality of that pic; I was using my daughters camera and it doesn't do a very good job in certain situations; like this one. Still cool though and I told myself that I should always take a camera with me on rides. Here's a couple of pic's of another section of Millenium that serves it up everytime I hit it:
Oh yeah, I almost forgot, did I tell you this tire sucked?
I'll quit bitching about that tire soon, I've got another on order. For it's sake it better be better or it'll end up here for all to see.
Tomorrow's going to be an exploration day of oil lease land around Bristow. We're going to ride the trails that god's little creatures created. Bench cuts made by cattle! Or as Buddy says: "Singletrack and cheeseburgers!"
Here's a few pic's, the top one is now famous due to being published in DirtRag magazine. (Pic taken by Justin.)
For future references here's the names and a brief description of the gangsters I'm lucky enough to get to ride with:
David aka Whistler: David's a climbing maniac, he sports wood when he sees a trail go up. He's also known to whistle when you're at your lowest point, grunting your ass up a hill, and is a monster on a road bike.
Buddy aka Showtime: All around rider, uphill, over rocks, catching air, bmx, he can and does do it all. He pisses you off 'cause of this unnatural ability to well...do it all.
Justin aka Little E: Why Little E you ask; it's for Little Evel, he's young with no kids and will try anything once. Big cajones wrapped up in a small package. Here's his link: http://www.myspace.com/Brauchie
Stacy aka Dealer: No, not a drug dealer, at least that I know of. He got the name 'cause in the card games we play if you're the first out you have to hang around and deal until someone else goes out, and well, he's been known to go out early.
So you wanna ride report eh? Sure you do so here goes. (All rides at Turkey Mtn.-Tulsa, OK.)
Saturday's ride was good; Hi-Chi was purrfect, a few dabs here and there, but the dirt was very tacky and sweet. Millenium was also in very good shape. Then I went from there to this other little loop I know of on the west side that runs along a creek and actually cleared a few sections I've struggled with for awhile. All in all a good day, except my Sooners getting manhandled like bitches in the pokey.
Sundays ride? Well an amazing thing happened overnight. The rocks at Turkey went from nice to light snot green covered and were as slick as they sound. Had a nice endo recovery on Hi-Chi but overall did fairly well. In fact I actually made it past the rock on a section that goes under a tree, over a rock, and up. From the spider I hooked up with another version of David; this dude was fucking ridiculous when it came to climbing. He rode so aggressively and would try to climb the seriously ridiculous. We rode up a switchback climb and I actually passed him on it. After that we rode the mystery trail toward the upper lot, we (there were 4 of us) stopped to watch him try this gnarly section that I've only seen cleared once before and when he cleared it I told his religious buddy "even Pat Robertson would say that was fucking impressive", I got no response but I thought it was damn funny. Of course, after my humor effort it was my go, and I made it! SWEET! From that point on though, let's see, there were 2 more endo's, 1 jacked up brake lever, 1 sock full of blood, 1 bruised ego, and 1 "David" dude smiling from ear to ear. So, I'd say it was a good day. I didn't get these guys names but had fun fer sure.
Here's Little E and dealer arriving at the trails, and my machine at the trailhead sign.
Another pic, this time it's me in the middle. (That's a bad visual.)
Now on to the good stuff, the trails of CB:
I promise you'll get sick of seeing pic's of my bike posing. Tough shit, get over it, you're just jealous.
OK, about the riding and trip funnies. For a flatlander the pitch is incredible, even when things look relatively flat you just ease off the brakes and bam, it's 25-30 mph. The trail named "Painter Boy" is freakin' unreal. Ungodly high speeds on a sinewy singletrack, ripping past the aspens and nailing a small rock garden at terminal velocity is my kinda bike love. The big question I have though is how long do you have to hang out at altitude until you feel normal? I never could breathe when trying any climbing in the thin air up there. Every effort left me with the feeling that I was going to get an unobstructed view of my lunch. Speaking of lunch viewings, drinking at altitude or having not drank competitively in years led to a serious mistake on day two in CB. You see, they sell these things called pitchers of margarita's for like $15, that's the cheapest deal in town. So myself, Little E, and Dealer all had a pitcher with dinner then headed to a quaint little bar that had shots for like $2 each. So let's see, we had a few beers, a pitcher of marg.'s, and then did some tequila shots! OUCH! I was handling the tequila just fine but somehow a shot of goldschlager (sp?) got on the table, and in the shot frenzy it somehow got in my belly. Goodnight Irene! My party was over at 9:00 p.m., I hadn't done that in years. But it's the lunch thats funny and the viewing was done by Little E; he had ruined the bathroom earlier in the evening if you know what I'm talking about then had a little too much to drink himself. He went to the loo to rid himself of the poisons and was coherent enough to remember that the porcelain should be off limits but in the melee started to heave which made the spew go on the walls, the urinal, the floor, the fucking everything. Unlike me, he puked and rallied while I was being taken to the condo by our DD Whistler. (Thanks David.) The tag line of the trip came from Justin's episode and will stick with us forever: "It's called the puke and spin, c'mon man everyone's doing it!" NICE. Needless to say, the riding the next day was a little tamer; hell it's hard to hold onto the bars when your hands are trembling.
FYI, don't drive back to T-Town from this area via Salina, KS no matter what Google maps, Yahoo maps, or Mapquest say. They'll tell you it's about 13 hours, it took us about 12 to get to Gunny so we thought we'd take the other way home to see some different sights and that was a huge 16 hour mistake. Great trip, shitty drive back. From Colorado Springs to Salina has to be the straightest, flattest road in the world. It'll have you contemplating suicide before that drives over.