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.


juice boxes & pillow talk

We went to the BMX track last Thursday night. Jake did pretty good. He won his first moto and was a damn close second in the next 2. He tried hard & had fun. You can't ask for more than that. But his night of impressing mom & dad wasn't over. The little kid who got 3rd was bummed & wasn't really into picking up his 3rd place ribbon. Jake delivered it to him anyway and gave him an 'atta boy' for riding hard. Didn't think I could get much more proud of my 5 year old than that. THEN on the way home we're pulling onto the turnpike, Libbi and I are in the front of the car shooting the bull, and all of a sudden from the backseat (in his best moster truck announcer voice) comes "SHAKE THEM TITS!" ..... Lib and I shoot each other a wide-eyed look and then force ourselves to look straight ahead because we are both about to laugh our asses off. I'm telling myself that I've gotta gather it up and, without laughing, let him know that we can't just say shit like that. Before I can gather it up he throws out another solid "SHAKE THEM TITS!" We couldn't contain it anymore. We laughed. We're bad parents.

I see his prom date ending like this.

Shake 'em,


random blabber

I don’t know that I’ve mentioned it on here before but I grew up racing motorcycles. I started out just riding dirt bikes and 3-wheelers with my dad for fun. In 1987 I graduated from blue jeans & t-shirts to “real” riding gear and entered my first race. From then on I was hooked. Unfortunately we raced intermittently. Sometimes that was due to financial reasons. Other times it was a product of my dad’s particular dating situation at that time. Ya know, life just gets in the way of having fun sometimes. Nonetheless I developed some decent skills and can hold my own when it comes to the church of the twisted wrist. All throughout my moto addiction I still rode my bmx bike every day. Had my dad been into bmx I probably never would have developed an interest in motorcycles. SO, that’s what I’m hoping for my boy Jake. I’ve rid the toy box of dirt bikes….almost. A few years back some friends and I all picked up XR100’s and those things are more fun than a new set of titties. So, yesterday I backslid a bit. I’ve been working on this killer pump track in our yard for the bicycles. It’s almost done. There are still a few dumptruck loads of dirt sitting next to it waiting for final placement in coming weeks. Two of the piles just happened to be the perfect distance for a little double for the 100. I couldn’t stand it any longer. After about 10 minutes with the shovel I had it roughed out, threw on the full-face, fired up the XR, and (with Jake standing there seeing what he should never see) I fell of the proverbial wagon. Mmmm it was good. I rolled around the little corner in second gear, seat bounced (BRAAPP), and caught perfect backside. Damn that’s fun. Like any old drunk I couldn’t stop until the bottle (tank) was empty. … I’ve gotta get rid of those damn piles of dirt. Hopefully this week I’ll be able to rent a tractor, place the final loads on the pump track, and be back on the wagon.

I’d love to post pics of our pump track but just haven’t gotten around to taking any. Will try to do that by the end of the week.



i've just got to get this off of my chest

What the fuck happened to our society? Whatever happened to people being nice to each other? When did it become normal to be rude? FUCK!

Monday night was the wife’s graduation and she was receiving her Masters Degree. (4.0 no less.) Pretty big deal to me and it should’ve been to all those in attendance. But by the actions of the fucking herd you’d have thought we were back in ancient Rome getting ready to watch a massacre. Here are the things that pissed me off:

  • People not turning their cell phones off. How fucking rude is that? Common fucking decency should tell you to turn it off so you don’t get embarrassed by the damn thing ringing during a ceremony in a full theater.
  • Not answering your cell phone when it does ring. Look you fucking fatass bitch and bastard sitting behind me; I’m no fucking dolt, it’s your goddamn cell phone ringing repeatedly and yes we’re all fucking staring at you so answer it GODDAMNIT! Somehow ignoring it makes you look even more daft.
  • Proud of mom/dad/sis/bro/aunt/uncle/friend/whatever graduating? Then by all means show up in ragged blue jeans.
  • And by all means where your ball cap backwards.
  • And yell “That’s my sister up there” when she gets her hard earned degree.
  • Oh, and let’s not forget, while waiting for the ceremony save about a dozen seats for your homies in an SRO theater ‘cause surely they’ll show…right? WRONG YOU FUCKING LOSERS! If an event is important don’t you show up earlier than the actual start time? NOPE? Then by all means bitch about the auditorium being too small ‘cause we’re all hear to serve you; you fucking piece of shit.
  • And last but not least if poor Jr. or Sally begins to wail while sitting on your lap by all means remain seated so we can all partake in your pain. Who in their right mind would remove a crying child from a packed theater? None of these fuckheads in attendance. God forbid that little three year old poster child for abortion misses a second of Aunt Thelma’s graduation ceremony.

I can now remember vividly why I had a Mohawk in college. Simply, I hate people. This isn't a redneck thing and it's not a poor white trash thing; it's just a people thing and you should be treated like this: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2445024781807135842&q=granny+punch



papa got a brand new bike (on the way)

Well, as much as I dig the Black Sheep frame posted by Kevin I just can’t swing that kind of wampum. So, I went ahead and placed my order for an ’06 Gary Fisher Rig. Yep. I know. It’s probably not as “cool” as piecing together an Indy Fab, Surly, or (gulp) Jones frame from scratch but it’s a hell of a lot cheaper and easier. I’m all about cheap and easy. (Just ask my wonderful wife about the chicks that I dated before she came along.) The Rig has a lot of things that turn me on: 29er, Ecc BB, Avid mech disks, etc… I’m not to sure how long it will be before I replace the Reba with a rigid fork but I’ll give it a shot. Why rigid? #1: I just like the feel of a rigid fork. #2: I live in rural Oklahoma. I get enough strange stairs from rednecks on backroads as it is. To those folks there is only one Reba and I’d rather gargle my own alcohol enriched urine than have someone think that I listen to that shit. It would seem that a pic of a GF Rig would go well with this post but we all know what those look like. So, I’ll simply attach a pic that represents how stoked I am for it to get here.