12.22.2006

Liquor in the front


Last year my good friend Steve gave me a bottle of Jager' for Christmas. This year I painted up the empty for him. Hope he digs it. (305 Club = his house, #305) He finally got his new Bianchi San Jose in so I'm swingin' by there today to drop this off and check it out.

Happy Holidays,
Buddy

12.21.2006

Christmas List

Yeah. I realize posting a Christmas list on this blog goes against the normal blasphemy and skepticism we occasionally throw around but let's not get crazy. We still like gettin' presents an' shit. So without further ado, here are some last minute gift items if anyone was wondering:

Mary Bars from On One in the UK. The Fisher needs these in a bad way. The bars that are currently on it are straighter than my cock on prom night and I don't know of anyone who likes that. ... Anyway, I had a set of Mary Bars on my first singlespeed and loved 'em. If you've never tried a set I highly recommend it. (for what my recommendation is worth)



A Mcleod. I'm currently building a new trail loop on our land and after seeing these babies on the IMBA website the look hamn dandy.


No. Not 4 dudes and a Dodge. (although the Charger would be cool) What I'd like is a membership to the PIT, the fanclub for the greatest rock-n-roll band in the world... The Supersuckers. (preferably a Gold Top one) I'm not usually one for fan clubs/autograph type shit but being a member of this one gives you some damn fine perks. Check it out: http://www.supersuckers.com/fanclub.php Not sure why I haven't already done this myself.


Not just regular suckers. Suckers laced with Percocet and a center that smells like poontang. Let me know if anyone finds these.

Well, there ya go. Answers to questions that nobody had. Exactly what this blog excels at.

HofuckingHo,
Buddy

12.18.2006

godspeed

The motocross world, and the world in general, lost an icon. Marty Moates, the first American to whoop all Euro dog asses at the 500cc USGP on a privateer LOP Yamaha, decided it was time to get on with other things. www.martymoates.com Suicide is a strange thing. Some cultures consider you damned for it while others think of it as a respectable and romantic way to end things. Being that I have a dear friend who chose this particular route to ...wherever... not long ago I tend to go with the latter. We all ride our own little crazy train to one place or another. Sometimes it slows down at the station and we step off when asked. Other times it just keeps accelerating until you gotta bail on your own.

Mr. Moates delivering cool stuff to little kids who need cool stuff.

Mr. Moates delivering the historic ass whooping.

Make it count,
Buddy

12.10.2006

i should've listened....

To my own advice. See Buddy asked me just last Friday how to keep his feet warm when it's cold and I replied with the ghetto way of ye olde Wal-Mart bags over the socks and in the shoes. It's not the best system but it's liveable; anyway I head to Keystone Sunday with the temps in the 40's but knowing that there was still snow on the ground. And to my thinking 40's=warm so I'll be OK and don't need to bag the feet; however that there snow is wet and when the feet get wet I get to whining; so after about an hour and a half of riding and many dabs & hike a bikes my shoes, socks, and spirits were soaked and freezing.

What'd happened is the show'd been on the ground for 11 days and was finally too tempting to not go give 'er a try; and man was it fun. I was surprised how much traction I had in most situations and surprised how little I had when the trails went uphill any at all. To make any little elevation I felt like I was throwing my body all over the bike to just scratch upwards a few feet. I do feel guilty 'cause the trails were saturated in places and I left deep ruts but I'm also a realist and know that it'll go away in time. (riding on wet trails is a debate for other people)

I took the pic's with my trusty camera phone so the qualities not too good.

Funny how in some places you could still see the rocks under the snow and in others they totally disappeared.

It may be gay but I can never take pic's without getting a pic of her.

When there's snow on the ground and the sign says caution, they mean it.




12.09.2006

bored out of my G O U R D!

While Buddy's "Broke As a Joke" I'm here at the computer on Saturday night; the kids are in bed, the wife's in the tub, we've just seen the Xmas Parade and this thing is always loud and cool.
Nothing big tonight but I did find a couple of links to follow; first I wanna ride with these guys just cause they got cold ass posters. (Click-it to follow-it.)

And another. Man did I love Smokey & the Bandit. "I said give me a diablo sandwich and a Dr. Pepper! And make it snappy...I'm in a goddamned hurry!"

Who am I kidding? It's still one of the greatest movies of all time!

And finally, life is weird if you pay attention. Click Miss Julie for her latest happenin's:
I'm gonna get me some leftover snow ridin' tomorrow. I'll report just how it went down later. (Maybe)

12.03.2006

the uncalled for 720


We don't get much snow/any in OK; so when we do we go big mountian riding with the locals.

My kids and I sessioned this baby for awhile and had a blast. My first run with Isabel got a little woolly when dad decided he'd stick a foot out in an effort to steer; the resulting 720 was totally out of left field and happened so quick you guessed it; it made my head spin! Of course the other result was dad having by far the biggest yardsale of the day. I got a high-five from another dad at the top for my quality ragdoll too.

Anyway I hope all are enjoying this rare treat and for each dude out there I hope there wives become temporary snowblowers.

11.20.2006

me convertible?....nah

Saturday morning I went for a ride with a local church group; yes I, he of little faith rode with a church group. I got to the trails at 8 a.m. which is a few hours before they arrived to stretch the legs and enjoy the brisk 34° weather. Upon arrival and before heading out a blessing was said for safety and for the bikes! So I proceeded to ride for the next hour with a blessed bike! It was a group of the "haves" and the "have-nots", there were some experienced riders and some newbie's, some cool bikes and some old rigids; no-one seemed to care. Anyway the riding was pretty good.

The wife has a fear though, and that is that they are out to get me, to get me to convert to one of them; a regular churchgoer, a Wednesday night-Sunday morning parishioner, a 10% donator. She thinks Chris, the rider I met who was on a Santa Cruz Blur, is a spy. She thinks they sent a guy out that is like me, who rides the same brand bike to buddy up with me and get me to church. Well....I've got news; maybe I'll be working on Chris trying to show him the light and bring him over to the darkside. Show him how great Sunday morning rides are, how fantastic Turkey Mtn. is on a Sunday morning when everyone else is at church and get him interested in the more important things in life. Bikes, booze, and boobs!

One last thing; I had to spend 7.5 hours wearing a orange vest and carrying a walkie-talkie around my daughters soccer tournament being a Marshall. Needless to say I was disappointed to not get a badge and pistol. Anyway, it was cold, wicked cold, tiring, boring, and lonely all at the same time. But, during the last game everyone was murmuring about how Garth Brooks was on the other field and didn't want to be "disturbed" watching his daughters' game. Well, me being me just strolled over during halftime of my daughters 2nd game and started chatting to some other guy (evidently Marshall's are respected) about the weather and other crap and Garth just strolls up and starts chatting with me. We talked for about 5 minutes or so then I go on to talk to the coach and make sure everything's OK in his world and do my duties and then begin to stroll back to my post at my daughters' game and once again he chats me up. I'd always thought he'd be a big ol' dick since he came off as such an ass kisser in interviews but come to find out he's just a regular old guy who probably really wants to be left the fuck alone like the rest of us. I should have given him a card for this blog and got him on a mtn. bike instead of a horse. His house is on a couple of hundred acres that'd make a kick ass freeride park.

Party on Garth.

11.13.2006

totally off topic

After 2.5 days in Vegas the following is true:
  • I won't shit right for a week. (No not like that.) But after multiple comp'd buffets and one night @ Ruth's Chris crapping now feels like a train's being pulled out of my ass instead of my usual nuggets.
  • If you get ahead of 'em early; gambling is a lot more fun.
  • 11 people in a limo is uncomfortable.
  • Most old timers that live in Vegas are bitter and should either a.) die or b.) get another fucking job. Your there for me, so kiss my ass and I'll tip you. Whine about how the old days were much better and I'll stiff you. PERIOD!
  • They should change the name to the "Bloody booger capitol of the world", fuck that's some dry air.
  • If you get ahead and play it right you can earn enough to cover half of the new FSRxc Pro you'd put on layaway for the wife before you left town. Spec's are here

11.07.2006

worked

No no no no no! Not worked but

WORKED!

I decided to take the old Giant ATX 760 rigid for a little ride today. You know how it is; I'll ride the smooth stuff, nothing too harsh, especially since it's only got a 1" steer tube.

RIGHT!

Two hours later I'd ridden the snake run 3 times, the cool ass swoopy shit up top a handful of times, and then down the ridge trail thru the rock garden and over to boner/millennium!

OUCH!

Major props to the originators of this sport for riding rigid.

THAT SHIT HURTS!

BTW, my dream of a step-up on snake run is now realized. It needs work, but it's a work in progress!

Maybe a pic of the Giant and the step-up some day, for now I'm off to Vegas!

nothing a few $$$ won't fix

Remember this post?
http://kungfubiking.blogspot.com/2006/09/hookin-brotha-up.html
It's about my brother getting his first bike since childhood.

He'd been keeping me informed of how it was going; he was only riding it on the road to get a feel for what riding a bike is like. He soon realized that with his prior back problems that a dual suspension was what he really needed. Thankfully the guys (Jake) at T-Town were down with giving him full trade in price since there were no scratches and it hadn't been off-road. So anyway I arranged a trade date and we arrived with me fully intending for him to add about another G or so and get a FSR-XC. It being a good beginner bike and not that much more expensive. WELL...T-Town was busy when we arrived so I got down the only XL FSR-XC they had in stock. This wasn't the exact model he would get but he could ride it to get a feel for the sizing. While waiting on Jake my bro spies a 2006 Enduro Expert. Yes that bike, the one with the Fox 36 Talas, the one with the DHX 5.0, the one with the Juicy 7 brakes, yes the one with the SRAM x-9 derailleurs & shifters, and yes the one that retails for 3500 smackers. OK, he originally bought a $500 rig and now he's looking at something a "little" bit more. (At least it's little for him.) But one problem, it's only a large and bro's like 6'6" with the ungodly leg length of 38". So we put the two frames side x side and realize that the top tube difference is only about an inch or so. Bro being non-bike savvy points to the stem and gives it a "dang, if only that thingy was longer". Sooo...on goes a 110mm stem, out the door goes the bike for a parking lot test, off one curb, 3 pedal strokes, and one bro looking over his shoulder saying "Yep, this is the one!" gleefully.


The guys at T-Town do it up right and let him have the bike for a total of $2500, so instead of adding 1G he adds 2G's without a sweat. No one asked me but I think that's a banging deal.

I call bro about 3 hours later and ask him if he's ridden it yet or if he's still got it up on a milk crate staring at it. He said he is indeed out in the garage staring at it and will save it for his inaugral ride with me. I tell him to get it out of the garage and ride the bitch around his property; we'll get to the trails in due time. Best part; he called less than 24 hours later and he'd been out on it four times and asking what skills he needed to learn. I tell him the first simple thing is to learn how to raise the front wheel about 6" while seated and while standing so he can get over obstacles without fear. He calls about an hour later and excitedly tells me he's got it and he's had his first crash while riding over rocks on his property.

I hope he sticks with it and loves it like we do. There ain't nothing better than a few bro's riding dirt and passing gas like a pit crew at a Nascar track.

And lastly, remember Buddy's post about McMurtry: http://kungfubiking.blogspot.com/2006/10/mcmurtry-doesnt-rock-it-rolls.html How about a little video action? Right click and download this baby! http://www.pedalmasher.net/mark/stillwater.wmv It's got a little section where I biffed right after telling Buddy I couldn't reply to a question 'cause I needed to "focus". Great timing since I ate shit less than 5 seconds later. (It's the section where the guy spun out & unclipped at 4:50.) At least I had an excuse; my chain popped off due to the mega torque my fat ass was applying. Weirdest thing though, I never let go of the bars or uncllipped during my endo; I just rode the Fetish SS to the ground. BTW, hanging on for dear life doesn't cushion the landing.

Peace out bitches; I'm off to Vegas!

10.18.2006

my problems with the cycling community ver. 1.0

This has been brewing for awhile and came up in conversation again today. I know I probably shouldn't care, especially when it comes to the MS150 which after all is more about raising money than bike riding but you have to at least try to ride it all. I wanna hear a "fuck yeah I'm riding it all, even if it kills me!"

This edited post was taken from an email I sent to Buddy looong time ago, but I saved a copy for days just like today.

There's a mentality that goes on in cycling that disgusts me; and it goes like this.

Kevin: dude, you doing the MS150 this year?
Dude: yea man, it'll be cool
Kevin: have you been riding? i haven't seen you at the organized training rides.
Dude: nah man, i'll just ride as far as i can and sag the rest
Kevin: huh?

Kevin: dude, you doing the HH100 this year?
Dude: yea man, it'll be cool
Kevin: have you been riding?
Dude: nah man, I’ll just ride as far as i can and sag the rest
Kevin: huh? I thought the goal was to man up and ride 100 in the heat?
Dude: we'll see

Whatever happened to commitment? Whatever happened to goals?

Now comes a KICK-ASS wife story that carries the proper attitude:
In 2005 she decides she wants to ride in the Flower Power. It's a ride that originates in Muskogee that David's a big volunteer at, and she decides she wants to ride the 62 mile version. She'd only ridden 20 miles that spring and other than that none since the previous summer. Well it's hot and the route had several climbs, one was probably a half-miler that was freaking' steep, and there was another that's probably 1.5 miles and is a monster. Now she can't make either but on the big long sustained climb she gets off the bike and starts pushing. I'm at the top chatting with David and he goes back to her and see if she wants help. (He's driving the support van.) He pulls up and asks if she wants to put her bike in and get a ride to the top. She tells him to....drum roll please...FUCK OFF!!! She tells him she committed to 62 and by god she'll do 62 without anyone’s help!!!! Yeah BABY! The ordeal damn near killer her but you see she had COMMITTED to it.

I'd have done her on the spot if she'd have let me.

My wife inspires me; these fuckers devastate me.

10.17.2006

remember this guy?

Click the title shit to read the article about brother man Rich from Cali; he of wanton bike desire, he who rocked when forced to rock, he who showed mad skills when he had none, he who just broke his thumb...OFF! That's right, that was the doc's prognosis. I repeat, not broke, but broke off! Here's a few pics:

Now he's got some kick-ass titanium to go along with his kick-ass Serotta!

Seems he was on his lunch group ride doing some high speed descending when he hit an oil spot ala Joseba Beloki in the '03 TdF.

Which caused uni-baller #7 to do this:

Instead of high-siding though he went under the bike and caught himself with his hand until the pain got too grand and he decided to go for the face grind. (Which I've always believed was a much tougher and cooler way to come to a halt.) Know what really sucks when you do shit like this? You gotta ride back. Rich had 5 miles back to the office which he said wasn't too bad; at least not too bad UNTIL he had to cross the railroad tracks! I'm sure that pain made him get the cold chills. Anyway, he made it to the ER at 2:30 and at 6:30 he was in surgery. I guess you get the express treatment when you don't just break a bone, but when you break one off! The doc's determined the surgery was a success but getting him to stay off of a bike will be harder than getting Martha Stewart off on dirty sheets.

Way to go bro; better you than me.

And one last thing; this is oh so sauteed in wrong sauce:

Quit it you fucking morons, quit trying to be so cool, just ride your fucking bike!

As Buddy said before "Don't forget to flip the collar up on your shirt." And as I've said before, you're todays Dick Numero Uno.

10.05.2006

WELCOME TO....THE DOPE SHOW!

Ahhh, Interbike; where porn truly meets two wheels. Not a ton of words; the pic's should speak for themselves; but I'll speak anyway.

Killer skatepark bike.

Peaty's awesome Santa Cruz.

The sweetest Intense yet. They're workin' hard for my money.

Ouch!!! But purdy.

Ooh, my Bianchi was purchased just in time or I think I'd spend the big dosh on this cutie.

And this honey's got my name all over it and may get my DNA all over it one of these days.

If money was no object.....

I repeat; if money was no object...

ROADTRIP! It was good enough for Ferrentino.

And one just 'cause.

Insert brilliantly funny remarks here.

9.23.2006

hookin' a brotha up

Evidently my continuous blasting of the family is starting to pay off. I've finally coerced my bro to take steps toward becoming a riding bro, that's right he's purchased his first mtn. bike.

Like alot of people out there I dig watching cyclists do shit that I'd never dream of; here's a couple of just such vids:
Cool teaser here:


More can be downloaded here and I highly recommend them:
http://www.pinkbike.com/stund/

And how about a good ol' crash video? Here ya go:

Check out the ghost rider action at 1:40 into the video. "Romaniac" digs it!

Tomorrow I get to watch Buddy run up & down hill & dale, should be a hoot 'cause with his personality he'll be givin' it 100 percentile 100 percent of the time.

Just give 'er Buddy!

9.18.2006

$823.00

Heroes: Alphabetically speaking

Steve B.

Buddy B.
Eric & Dee Dee C.

Carla E.
Stuart E.
Scott H.
Tim H.
Richard L.

Mike M.
Aaron P.
David T.

Roger U.

Due to my fundraising in this years MS150 ride I will receive a “Heroes” jersey; but the people listed above are the heroes. Those are the people who gave to help find the cure for this tragic disease.

Thanks to all.

Also thanks to those listed below for putting forth you’re hard earned dollars to help make this a team event. Doug is the owner of Superior and Gale is our Medline rep. Gale donates the money that assures each person on the team gets a free jersey for riding on our team and Doug pays for pre-ride parties and also for all the amenities we have at the overnight stay at Camp Gruber.

Doug W.
Gale B.

Again, thanks to all.

Now on to the story:

The ride sucked.
You guys & gals donated a lot of money and will enjoy your donation more knowing that the MS150 turned into a sufferfest for me!!!

After a week of beautiful weather things turned ugly. Leading up to this weekend the weather had been high 70’s to low 80’s with light breezes and just gorgeous; this Saturdays high was 97° with 20-25 mph winds and gusts to 36!!! E-fucking-gads that’s atrocious. My day started off with the bonehead move of forgetting to slather on the sunscreen I’d begged the wife to put out for me the night before, which of course leads to some really weird sunburned wrists along with a striped head from helmet vents. (Yeah, that’s fucking sexy.)

Oh, it gets better.

The ride started out late of course and the first 30 miles most people were feeling froggy. I rode with David Griggs and his friend who is a marathoner; knowing deep down that I wouldn’t last long with these two I started looking for a big group to ride with that could break the wind once we got out onto the open plains. I hooked up with a group and had good luck for the first 30 miles; we had a good pace and it looked like I’d make it to camp in time to shower and watch the OU game @ 2:30. What I didn’t realize is that at the 30 mile mark this group had blown itself up. After waiting about 30 minutes I set out alone heading due east into the hardest flattest 30 miles I’ve ever ridden. The sun was pounding, the wind was fierce, the road was brand new chipped surface, (see rough with gobs of rolling resistance,) and it was fucking HOT! I stopped at each rest stop and reloaded my 20 oz. bottle of water and 16 oz. bottle of Gatorade only to empty them before each 10 mile rest stop.

Oh, it gets better.

At mile 58 a demon appeared at the end of my right big toe. I was already miserable and then this little bastard pain that can only be described as a razor blade being jammed into the end of my toe with each revolution of the pedal. I’ve never felt anything like it before. At the 60 mile lunch/rest stop I discarded the shoes and hung out in my socks giving the toe a break. After lunch I was feeling good again with no problems until mile 62 where the turkey sandwich was now a knot just at the base of my neck. I worked on keeping that jewel down while heading into the first hills of the day. It was still hot, windy, chipped road, but now hilly with a puking on the horizon. It was glorious; I trudged on and caught up with David and marathoner at the 70 mile rest stop. The group of resting riders giggling at me walking so tenderly since my demon had showed up at mile 68. Real funny bitches.

Oh, it gets better.

So now into the final 12 mile stretch with one two-mile climb lurking toward the end I set off. The toe’s rested, the lunch knot has subsided and the wind is behind Braggs Mountain and no longer bothering me. At mile 78 the toe demon came back with a vengeance so I decided to pull off the side of the road and rest. I rested.....forever; every sag wagon pulled up and asked if I wanted help; nope I’m waiting it out I replied at least a dozen times. (Like I said I rested for a looooonnggg time.) I’d taken my right shoe off as hurriedly as possible when I dismounted and sat in the shade pondering my possibilities; I finally decided that it’d be best if I took my right sock off and allowed the piggy’s a little more room. Good idea; bad result; I bent my knee, reached for the sock and BAM goes a cramp! I’ve got the four toughest miles ahead and I’ve got a kick-ass cramp? Fuck me! After about 15 minutes of hopping around and stretching I get it worked out a bit and decide it’s time to go; I mount up and ride alongside a guy who’s motivating me until he gets a cramp. (Evidently they’re contagious.) He pulls over and I continue on until with ½ mile of the big two mile climb left my one cramp multiplies somehow into four separate huge cramps. (One quad, two hammies, and one calf.) I jump off the Bianchi like its hot molten lava and dance around on my painful toes trying to get the legs working. After about twenty minutes of trying to soothe the legs it’s evident that they don’t wanna go anymore; so I take the walk of shame to a SAG wagon. (SAG drivers should do like grand tour officials and rip your number off when you have to have help; I deserved the humiliation.)

Yep; I said it, I did it, and I ain’t proud. The cycling gods were on me:

SAG driver: “Want me to take you to camp?”
ME: Umm, hell no, just to the top; I’ll spend the night there and ride the rest in the morning if I have to.
SAG: I understand; what seems to be your problem.
ME: It’s my fucking toe; I don’t’ know what’s wrong with it but it's killing me.
SAG: What shoes are you wearing?

ME: Shimano
SAG: Oh, you gotta ditch those and buy you some sandals.
ME: Eat me, those are for queers.
SAG: I think it’s because you’re dehydrated.
ME: My toe hurts because I’m dehydrated?
SAG: Yeah man, weird huh?

ME: Yeah right, pull over and let me out now.

The legs never got better and they still hurt today (two days later), but I rode in. There were two more hills to climb which actually did me good and worked out some of the cramps; but I did notice one thing that I’ve never had happen before. While descending the backside of one of the climbs I noticed while coasting that my speed was dropping! That my friend is fucking windy! I normally descend like a freight train; gradually gaining momentum the entire decline, but not Saturday; the wind was angry that day I tell you.

Sadly, my pains pale in comparison. Saturday evening’s festivities were somber compared to previous years. At about mile 56 a 15 year old youth who was riding in his first MS150 was struck by a vehicle and killed. Details of exactly what happened are still sketchy; I hope all parties involved will remember why we were there and that accidents do happen. Hopefully not a single lawyer will make a dime off of this tragedy. Sorry to end this on a sad note but no matter what happened or happens this kid should be remembered for what he was doing; raising money for a fantastic charity.


Fittingly; Sundays return ride was cancelled due to foul weather.

Due to the nature of the last paragraph they’ll be no titties in this post.

9.11.2006

like a kid in a fucking candy store

Turkey mountain is kinda freaky ya know; it's explained here:

Turkey Mountain, Tulsa Oklahoma

It’s not really a mountain, rising only a couple hundred feet off the west bank of the Arkansas River, but Turkey is an amazing urban wilderness area. With over 300 acres of mostly- singletrack trails, bluffs overlooking the river, and abundant wildlife, Turkey is an oasis for Tulsans needing to get away into the woods for a hike, to run, or mountain bike.


Taken from here:
http://www.doubleshotduathlon.com/ (An upcoming event for Buddy.)

Anyway it's only a 300 acre park that I've been riding in for four years now and yet somehow occasionally I find a new trail. Most of the new trails I've found are small feeder trails that take you to existing trails; however over the last couple of Friday rides I came across a few off-shoot trails (or so I thought) and ended up riding a beauty of a trail named "Lookout Loop". The damn things has signs and everything so how I've never come across it amazes me. Here's a pic:


That section of trail is all the way at the end of the trail; there is a cheater line you can see to the left that can be taken, but until I learn to ride across the rocks, and I will learn; I'll walk across 'em. The following pic is the continuation of the trail which is only about 50 more yards or so.
When you're riding Lookout Loop you can tell the trail doesn't get ridden as much as most of the other trails due to the jungle growth and surely that's just because most people don't know about it. But I'm here to spread the word.

W-O-R-D

And finally; more boobies!





9.04.2006

snot bubbles and 'tard drool

Deep down I don't consider myself to be a competitive person, but on occasion an opportunity arises that's just too hard to pass up. Take Saturday for instance. When rolling out at the start of the MS150 60 mile training ride everybody was grouped together, probably 100 riders strong, rolling at a casual 15-16 mph on flat terrain. After about mile three a group of maybe 20 riders rolls thru and the opportunity for a long paceline draft is too enticing to ignore so I tell the guy next to me that we need to be in that group. Click-click boom I'm on the tail end now and we're rolling at about 25mph; about 6 mph above my comfort level, but hey I've got a hell of a wind break so I'm feeling OK. At mile 5 or so we hit the first little climb and the line blows up like the leader dropped a turd grenade. After all the shenanigans and jockeying I'm now left with three chicks riding clunkers and me on my fancy carbon Bianchi. Surely I can hang is the motto I use to stay motivated; at mile 10 on the second of two killer rolling hills I ask the lead chick if she's trying to drop me; her reply: "We try to drop everybody". GULP; OK I'm in I tell her, go ahead and drop me. For the next ten miles we're riding a pace unlike any I've ever been a part of, my hearts pounding, my legs are screaming, my stomachs churning, sweat is pouring out of every pore of my body, I need to pee, I need to shit, I need to puke, I'm fucking hurting, but I stay quiet and let the power of the Ramones on the ipod keep me pumping. Finally the oasis of the 20 mile rest stop appeared and thankfully the 3 cycling dominatrix’s pull in; I definitely follow and damn near fall over once I stop 'cause my legs aren't working like they normally do. After fetching a cup of watered down Gatorade I catch my reflection in the storefront glass and notice I’ve got snot bubbles accumulated outside of my left nostril and drool hanging off my chin. I look like a ‘tard preparing to destroy my first funnel cake. Anyway, the lead chick comes over and tells me good job hangin' with 'em, I say thanks and ask what pace we rode at and she tells me the average was 23.1 mph. (I’ve abandoned using a cycling computer for now.) WOW, that is the fastest pace I've ever carried over that span and I'm feeling it. After a total of about two minutes at the rest stop they ask if I'm ready to roll? Fuck no I think but instead I politely decline telling them I need to wait on my buddy. Thank god there was somebody I needed to wait for otherwise I think I would have had a complete and udder meltdown on some back road in the next 40 miles.

Now before I start this next bit let me make this statement: I've always been a firm believer in the adage of "It's my soap and my dick and I'll wash it as fast as I want". Especially when it comes to singlespeeds; soooo....

Post 1 on what's wrong with the cycling community: (Click title to go to his site.)
Single Speeds ...Cool right? Well mostly. I have had a fixed gear since ’94 and it is a great bike that I ride all the time. So what is the problem you ask? Here we go. Don’t race a damn single speed! You are not cool, you don’t have “soul”, you are a tool. Why would you want to be under geared on the flats and downhill and over geared on almost every climb?

Just get some freaking gears! Want to impress anyone? Win a race with gears like the real fast people. Yeah I know Travis Brown wins ‘cross races on a single speed. Guess what? You are not Travis Brown. Travis gets the exemption not you. Also if you live where there are mountains don’t even ride a single speed off road. Next time I see one of you goons pushing your bike up a hill you are getting the double barrel snot rocket as I RIDE by your walking ass on my cross bike.

Blah, blah, fucking blah. Who does he think he is? The "Sultan of Cycling?" Nope, he's today's DICK NO. 1

These are cool:

Post 2 on what's wrong with the cycling community:
I don't care who's soap it is and who's dick it is, I bet these guys are dick lickers. Who the fuck do they think they are? Here's who they are; today's DICKS #2 & 3.

BTW, from now on I'm a Moots guy.

Congratulations boys!

8.22.2006

yeah i've been ridin'; what's it to ya?

First of all anyone, who stumbled across this blog and expected regular posts can kiss my ass. Speaking only for me; I’ll post when I want. Period.

Hopefully that’ll help me get rid of my guilt.

Since we last met a few things have happened:

· The gates of hell swung open a little further and therefore making any riding on a mountain bike silly and treacherous. Oh, I’ve been out on the bikes here and there but fuck it’s hard to get motivated to go ride when the afternoon temps range between 101 & 107.
· I’ve ridden NuDraper a few times this year and the SS is THE bike for those trails. When I set the fork at 100mm it’s the shiznit; when the forks @ 120mm it’s a turkey’s turd.
· Made a big mistake dogging David for getting two flats on his road bike; he was able to call his wife and be on the road again in a few minutes. I however got paid back the very next day by getting two flats at Turkey. Where you ask? By the fucking Pepsi plant of course.
· Learned that purchasing new tubes is often better than patching tubes. (I learned that after putting in my 2nd spare tube and having it hiss at me as I inflated it. (Prior to walking from Pepsi to the lot.)
· Finally rode Miller’s in Wichita a few weeks back. I was at the trailhead at daylight and had a great ride until my seat broke and had a flat. My luck is changing however; I was within eyesight of the car! This seat looked kick-fuckin-ass on the SS. I was originally disappointed that my $10 kick-ass saddle was garbage. I decided for satisfaction I’d send the butt-wipe I’d purchased the seat from an email discussing my dissatisfaction with his product; he replied for me to send it back to him along with a bill for shipping and he’d get me another saddle and pay my shipping expense. Good job dude.



(Click the pic and it’ll take you to his eBay site.)

· I finally bought an expensive piece of plastic: What they say is true, these babies float over the road. My advice to anybody who wants to road ride AND have a comfortable experience...buy a CF bike. (Don’t get me started on CF’s use for off-road use though.)

· And finally, it has been requested that I post this, it originally was an email I sent to Buddy; it’s been edited for certain reasons:

As is usual for me in the summer; especially when it's 105, I've been doing more road riding than mountain biking lately. I learned a few things this weekend:
1. When you tell people you'll hang with them on a 40 mile ride and they say they average 15mph, they do. However what they don't tell you is they spend 20 minutes at each of the 2 rest stops along with a stop at the top of each hill, and other assorted stops just to make what should've been a 2.5 hour max ride into almost a 4 hour sweat-a-thon! It was 97 degrees when I got in my car!
(11:15 a.m.) I got overcooked and didn't do a fucking thing except lay around yesterday.
2. When you stop at the convenience store at the top of the hill on HWY 97 coming out of Sapulpa and shit what felt like a porn-star quality butt-plug bomb, (it truly left me feeling violated), you can rest assure that as soon as it passes the sphincter rings that there will be a light tap on the door. (Light tap = young woman.) I can't believe the issues I have with defecating in public loo's and women banging on the door.
I feel my string of quality replies remain in-tact, Saturday's: "I got mine, you get yours."
(I always feel compelled to apologize in my own way when the young lady and I make eye contact.)

Her face spelled confusion, mine spelled satisfaction.


Don't laugh; you could be my next "shitter" victim.

Now, will I post more often in the future? Maybe...maybe not.

6.07.2006

2 things I know for sure:

  1. This post is a day late.
  2. It'll also probably put me in the 1st class section on the rocket ride to hell.

    It's no longer a secret that I struggle with the religious right in this world. But these fucking bible thumpers are going too far. Take for example this lady, I'll call her J, she's an Administrative Assistant for the New Covenant Church on the east coast . My problem with her is that she went thru all the trouble to come up with this little email address nugget: laborunderhislove @ I'm not telling you dot com (No I'm not putting the host name here but I promise it's a real email address I came across in my line of work.)

    I wonder several things about a person like this but mainly shit like:
  • Did she go to sleep with a smile on her face the night she realized that no other god fearing woman had thought of such a kick ass religious email address?
  • Did she wave it in her friends faces the next day? You know screaming FACE all day and generally being an office irritant.
  • How about that night; did her hubbie get some righteous pussy since she was all consumed with her passion for christ?
  • Hell, do women like that even have "recreational" sex? I'm doubting it but man if they get god going thru them I bet the 'tang is absolutely bucklin'. (See knee bucklin' good.)

I understand that my little nugget here probably doesn't belong on a cycling blog but I just had to "exorcise" these thoughts from my soul.

Me & W must be Bro's:
That jackass will probably be the rocket pilot for my ride south.
As Dr. Laura says: Now, go take on the day.

5.30.2006

the doc gave me the green light

Why do I post the shit I do?

I've long kicked around the idea that cyclists are both sadists and masochists. They inflict the pain on themselves and then enjoy the pain thus making them submissive to their own dominating personalities. Fucked up thinking? Probably. Am I right? Probably.

Anyway, I decided to roll out the road bike that's been collecting dust in the garage for about 5 months and give 'er a go this weekend. And while I know that a 45 mile ride is a pansy ass ride for a lot of people, those people haven't been off the bike for 4 weeks for medical reasons, and they haven't quit dippin' this year and packed on the el bee's either. Anyway, somehow 45 miles sounded...um...fun? Weird eh?

So here's the low-down; I was set to hook up with a guy Saturday and take the bikes to Skiatook, drop the car off at a restaurant, ride back to Tulsa to meet a group of people, then turn around and ride back to Skiatook to eat breakfast, and then of course turn around and ride back to Tulsa while his kid took the vehicle back to Tulsa and take up the roll of SAG should anyone need help. (It was a very mixed group of riders.)

· Problemo uno: We start late and the wind at 7:15 a.m. is already a steady 15 mph out of the south and we're of course heading south. So no warm-up, just get on the saddle for the first time of the season and put the hammer down. We had 45 minutes to make it 15 miles which meant we needed to average 20 mph into the wind and uh...we didn't make it. We did however make it 14 miles before we meet up with the group.
· Problemo dos: ME, I'm the fucking problem. I was already fucked up in the head from the initial southbound effort and thought I'd just cruise with the wind at my back for the ride back. But nooooo, two fuckers in the group had to break away and up the pace. Well if there's one thing my fat ass has got it's a fucked up idea that I'm racing everybody, so click-click go the shifters and bam I'm on their tail for the next 12 miles at an astonishing 21 mph. Now I never take the lead, I just sit back and wheel-suck all the way to the restaurant. Am I really fast enough to hang with these guys? Hell no, but I CAN handle the pain. (See I told you I'm an S&M guy.)
· Problemo tres: Breakfast. I thought I'd pre-planned a way to ride-n-eat a somewhat healthy meal that wouldn't cause problems on the final leg of the journey. Here's the plan: two eggs, wheat toast, maybe a taste of the hash browns, and eat only one of the three beautiful slices of bacon on the plate. Well fuck it's not humanly possible to walk away from tasty bacon so I down it all and would've licked the entire plate clean if I hadn't been in a public place.
· Problemo quattro: We have to go southbound again except now its 90 degrees outside and the wind is at an admirable 25 mph. That's the kinda wind that just pisses you off my friend. So angry I give it my all in hopes of just getting it over in an hour, which I do but it was all I could do to keep from getting another view of that knot of bacon that was at the back of my throat. So I finished, gutted, thirsty, hot, and with a stomach that was extremely volatile. I could've shit thru a screen and left no discernable fecal matter behind.

As usual I've got no idea why I'm putting a weird tale like this out on the WWW. Maybe it's just my cheap ass way of having some cathartic therapy; but I really don't understand why I do some of the things I do.

Maybe later in the week I'll post again about the Turkey Mtn. ride I did that night. Sicko.