Aside from building bikes, kicking ass and taking names, heres a shot of Robert Ives doing what Robert Ives does best.
Hell be by to pick you up around seven...
Unless this guy gets to your house first.
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Christina wrote in with this;
"Hi guys,
So, this article in the UK Chronicle begins;
A FORMER Girvan man was caught having sexual intercourse with a bicycle in an Ayr hostel room by shocked cleaners.
Which is definitely a new form of ‘bike love’ Not only that, but they made him register as a sex offender....
(PS, yes, I know I’m at work and should be working...but this trumps SEO and Analytics anyday...)"
Who doesnt engage in a bit of bike romance every now and again?
And as she knows what SEO and Analytics are, it obvious that shes smarter than we is..
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Then the next day, Ashley sent us this email as well, regarding even more of the hapless romantics saga;
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"Stevil,
Looking through your blogs I was just admiring all the rampage damage done to people’s bodies. I myself just took a slammin’ fall out at the Soap Box Derby races in SF this past weekend, riding down Bernal heights hill after the races were over, I decided to try and pop a curb at full speed, and missed. I have an awesome bump on my knee and got pretty bit up on my hand and elbow by the rocks. Also, both my hips are bruised. It makes me feel like I’m a kid again, sporting scraped up knees and elbows and hands. Not really Kosher for a 25 year old office drone, but that’s maybe why I like it so much.
Anyways, to the real point of my story: I saw this back at the beginning of the year, and it just got reposted to boingboing.net today, and thought at the very least, you might be amused by it. Watch where you’re “playing” with your bike!"
You gotta get love where you can find it.
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So you know, I think the donut bacon burger was just about the coolest thing ever, but then Scott sent us this email;
"If they could only find a way to fry this thing.."
Oh good god in Heaven. I think my heart just stopped, though its nothing that the Drunk Russian and Loudass would even bat an eye at.
I once saw the two of them go toe to toe at the Circus Circus breakfast buffet, and Im not ashamed to admit that I was lucky to escape with my life.
If Id been dressed as a piece of bacon, I would have been a goner.
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Now to jump directions wildly.
So theres this girl whos got an pet that she loves dearly.
In some capacity or another, we can all relate to this, right?
The animal in question has recently gotten seriously injured and shes in a bad spot financially in terms of paying for the bills. I dont know quite why this touched me as it did. Maybe due to the fact that not so long ago I was in the exact same position.
This girl whom Ive never met needed help, and Ive done what I can.
Do any of you all suppose that you could take a second and read a bit about whats going on a lend a hand as well?
The girl would appreciate it, the cat would appreciate it, and in a weird twist, I would too.
The space, the saga,
and if you so choose, heres the way you could help.
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Now, back to the action- Billy from Godspeed Couriers and I have been in a bit of a technological quagmire to get this flyer to us. I think weve finally succeeded.
If you find yourself in the Bay Area, get yourself and a gaggle of friends together and make it to the following race series.
Its gonna be good.
Ok, Halloween is upon us, and has arrived on a Wednesday. Theres some heavy hitting going on in Swoboland, and if I dont get swallowed up by the process, Im gonna be ripping around on a bike, and laughing at a bunch of folks who dont know how to handle the grape and grain.
God willing, Ill have a camera and my wits, and will lay a full report on you later.
So the fork debacle is water under the bridge, and as difficult as it is, I have to let it go.
Whats important here are the hijinx that lead to said mistake.
See, going on 12 years ago, there existed a thing here called the California Crusty Cruiser Cup. An outlaw single speed mountain bike series, at which I met a good number of folks Im proud to call my friends today. At this years Handmade Bike Show, Robert Ives and Big Steve P approached me about the prospect of rekindling the long extinguished fire of the CCCC. To make a long story short, The Sacramento crew held the final race this weekend along a network of bum trails and bike paths, which due to my rib injury suited me just fine.
Punk ass Cam and Kathleen won the mens and womens titles this year, but I awarded myself the best patch laid..
And whatever individual left this specimen behind, won 'most ingenuity', given the fact they live 'in a van, down by the river'.
WKB and I jumped in the whip and made our way to Sonoma County for the annual Halloween party at the Soulcraft compound. Dazed and confused, I eventually wondered away to find refuge in the darkness.
Upon waking up, we eventually ended up at Soulcraft compound number two, where we had our way with pancakes, and coffee.
Unknown to my adversaries, I was fueling up for what would be my most epic miniature golf victory to date.
Sadly, WKB beat me like so many stepchildren, although I think I was still a point or two ahead of Sean, so my position in the upper echelon of mediocrity is still intact.
(Actually, this information is incorrect. I just found the score card, and I was beat by Sean as well.
Sucking as long as I have, one might think Id be used to it by now, but the sting still hurts.)
We said our goodbyes and prepared for more traffic and long hours behind the wheel.
Obviously as indicated by the last post, the 1000 yard stare was in full effect, and helped to horrifyingly cap off a rather outstanding weekend.
Anyhow, enough of that. What say we wrap this Monday off with a few words from George?
"king swobra,
today I woke up to the soothing sounds of "Angie" by the rolling stones,awesome.
My sweet ladyfriend on the other hand woke up 20 minutes later to Del Mitri's "Pretty baby", which if you recall the video for this wretched piece of crap they call a song featured a grown man's face morphed into a baby in a stroller going around a metopolitan area. Amazingly, her first words for the day were "no fucking way" and promptly hit the snooze.
Friday's crap joke of the day.
A bear walks into a bar, the bartender comes over and says, “what’ll it be?”
Bear replies, “I’ll have a rum………………………………………………………..and coke.”
Bartender, “yeah sure, but what’s with the big pause?”
The bear holds up his paws and says, “I’m a bear!”
pics: chupacabra, wildlife scenes from an urban area and tour de fat
toodles,
george"
George always makes everything alright...
Ok, Im gonna try to face another Monday. I hope everybody is keeping it on the straight and narrow, as it were.
However right now Im crushed under the weight of my own exhaustion and stupidity.
Remember that old adage 'measure twice, cut once?'
I cant even bring myself to explain how relevant that is in my life right now.
In 20 years of working on bikes, and Im guessing probably in the neighborhood of 2000 fork installs, Ive never cut a steerer too short.
That is of course, until tonight.
A special Friday hero, and mutterings about life and stuff..
"Stevil,
I haven't listened to the Butthole Surfers since September 15th, but that isn't the real reason I write. I'm writing to promote my dead brother, who passed away on said date. Unfortunately drinking catches up to some. My brother at the ripe age of 37 passed away in the ICU in Portland due to complications he had from Pancreatitis. He was admitted into the ICU on the 30th of July, with said desease and a list of other complications including Sepsis and a respiratory rate of 100 breaths per min, and blood preasure well below the living - like 50 over 30. He developed a fungal infection that later caused him to bleed to death out of his lungs. My point isn't to bring you down, but to share with you the sweet mustache he ran on occasion. If he were alive I'm sure he would get a kick out of all the stache talk. I turned him on to your art a while back - he loved the grand Tetons, or big titty mountains as he referred to them as. Any who, enjoy the stache he wore. You be the judge, is my bro's stache better than Kempe's brothers?
Funny story about him in the hospital - he couldn't talk due to the tracheotomy, but he could wisper, and he was trying to tell me something about his feet hurting - I couldn't make out what he was telling me, I started to get frustrated because he kept repeating it, and he looked desperate for me to figure out the problem. After about 2 min trying to figure out what he was saying, I realized he was singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" to me. We both laughed out loud - so at least I have that one to remember.
Daniel Limburg"
"The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face"
-Jack Handy
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Daniels story about Friday Hero, Brother Jeff has come at a pretty good time in my life as I have been thinking a good deal about mortality lately, and have recently gotten word about a fellow I spent a fair amount of time with during my formative years passing away a few days ago.
To put it bluntly, I wish we lived in a society that spent more energy celebrating the individuals life (not to mention our own) then lamenting its end.
This is a rule I desperately try to stick to, but find it a fairly difficult task living in a world that will try at every step of the way to curb ones ultimate fate.
People get cavities, broken hearts, they loose their hair, stub their toes, and always and inevitably, die... Its all a part of the cycle.
As I emailed someone in regards to our compatriots demise, I feel terrible for his wife and two young sons whove been left behind, but as far as he goes, and at the risk of sounding callous, I think hes doing just fine.
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Along the lines of celebrating life in general, I got an email from Blacksocks today thanking me for forcing him to attend the Homie with us, and as I told him- theres plenty of time in the day to be a grown up, but theres barely enough time in life to act like a kid.
Were forced into living a life full of bills, noisy neighbors, mean bosses and so on. Take a little bit of time out of every day and do something selfishly and exclusively for yourself.
That might be to go on a ride, or nap with your kids. It might be to write a vapid post on a weblog nobody reads about how youve got it all figured out, or to enroll in salsa classes..
For the most part anyways, your life is yours. You know, celebrate it a little.
Everybody have a good weekend, and at some point in the next few days, take a trip to a spot thats special to you and acknowledge your love for your own existance and then for a little while reflect on the life of someone whos not around anymore.
Whisper to them that they made an impact on you and as much as you miss them, youre proud that you had the good fortune to cross paths with each other.
Maybe even tell them that they had a really, really bitchin moustache.
And so it goes. One pedal, (handle bar, elbow, Hurls pointy head?) to the side and Im down for four to eight weeks. Through the entire DFL series I was nursing dislocated fingers. Last year at this time I was concussed.. Or was that the year before?
Injuries blend together like so many colors from the pallet of Bob Ross.
I did one race this year and got a flat.
Maybe thats what Ive been referring to as a breakout season all along.
But Corey The Courier has some thoughts on priding oneself on injuries;
"I admired the last picture in the blog. (your bloody legs from last years Homie Fest.)
Under better lighting one can see all of the scars on both of my legs from knee to ankle. I got run over by a lawnmower, I was attacked by a pack of angry chihuahuas, or I just haven't been able to stay upright on a bike since they took off the training wheels..."
Yeah, you and me both Corey. You and me both.
Oh, plus I shouldnt neglect to mention that the pair of Swobo knickers I brought to Minneapolis seem to have not been washed from my last romp through Poison Oak, as I have swarms of it blooming across both of my legs now as well.
Good times.
Well, the inbox has gotten quite full once again so Im gonna turn that bad boy over and spill its contents out on you in no particular order, just like we like it.
Jim writes;
"All former means of rolling down a mountain are heretofore considered sub-standard and, quite frankly, gay."
Maybe I ought to give that a shot. It seems like falling down is kinda part of what youre supposed to do, and it would still be considered that youre getting rad.
Cary the Duke of Douche writes;
what would grab if you only had minutes to leave?
Included in that- my better half, my cats, and photos.
However in reality, and cause I dont suppose ones brain would be working too proper..it would probably be one rubber boot, my belt buckles, the garbage can and an apple.
I cant imagine what the folks in the South land are experiencing right now.
Well.. actually I kind of can, as I was just on the periphery of the 1991 Oakland fire storm, raiding my school campus, nabbing paintings as firemen and administration were chasing me out.
Those paintings sucked anyway.
Anyhow- our hearts go out to the Southern neighbors. It would appear to be Hell on Earth down there right now.
From raging fires, well now bounce to Big Brother with a clip from Matthew.
I dont know much about Face Book.
I do know a bit about Myspace however, but as far as theyre concerned, Im a 6'4" lesbian who likes sequels to movies, automatic weapons and listens to Crass.
And from Tauna;
Spokecards are cool and all, but I think this one might be the only one Ill ever need-
And I know Im gonna get yelled at by El Corpo for too many videos again, but this one from Austin is just too good to pass up.
Hightower (who from this point forward will also be known as 'Big Buddy') and I decided today that a smart individual would probably need three or four, on account of cause the Commies are smart and can come from any direction.
Well its wednesday night, and Im wrapped up in front of a computer licking my wounds. The other deryls are out, ripping around in the woods and side streets enroute to JoeFishs bands rock and roll show.
Speaking of Halloween, next Wednesday is in fact All Hallows Eve and you can bet Ill be limping around in some capacity or another.
Maybe Ill even go as my spokecard.
God knows you dont need healthy ribs to stretch and have your junk fall out...
The Mafia of Minneapolis did it again. The tenth annual 2007 Homie Fall Fest is in the bag, and there are battle scars to prove it. Upon waking up, the first thing that crossed my mind this morning was a new found understanding and appreciation for the scene in Rush Hour when Chris Tucker exclaimed "Which one of yall hit me?"
In the midst of nearly 300 witnesses, someone threw me down the stairs into a kiddie pool of booze.
Or so I felt at the end of the weekend.
Sit back to soak up the images, and know that they only begin to tell a small part of the story that was the weekend of the damned.
(One) The OneonOne shop cat has three legs, two crossed eyes, and a billion pounds of cute.
(Two) For every pound of cute the previously mentioned fuzzy buddy has, there is a bike in the basement.
(Three) Regardless of that fact, I was still loaned one of only a handful of bikes Ive ever had the honor to help construct. GenO was fairly certain that there stood a good chance that this custom steed wasnt going to be returned in as good of shape as it was when it left, but who am I to argue with the boss?
(Four) Friday found a partial set of the West Coasters getting cultured at The Walker Museum of Fine Art.
(Five) After two hours of art gazing, we spied what would ultimately be the grandest heist of our art thieving careers. Sadly the army of 20-something art student museum security took notice of our plan and put the kibosh on our scheme faster than you can say "Acme brand dynamite".
(Six) Despondently empty handed, we returned to the shop to catch up on high fives and hugs with other dirtbags as they trickled into the fold.
(Seven) Eventually, Mini-Me arrived on the scene with his shot glass, which we began partaking from with Viking-like fervor.
(Eight) Many bars, and many crashes later, we ended up in the loving arms of White Castle where Zito got locked inside the TV monitor.
(Nine) Once we arrived home and embarked on a devastatingly refreshing four hours of sleep, we returned to Liquor Lyles to eat breakfast, destroy the bathroom, and register for the days events.
(Ten) After engaging in a couple of magnificent derbies, (the second of which resulted in an explosion of forces between Hurl and myself, and left me with what for all intent and purposes, might very well be a broken rib), we continued on into the trails.
(Eleven) This here is the lovely and talented Emily eating a pound of that which cant be mentioned.Youll be glad to know that despite every effort on her part, she remains lovely and talented, not to mention healthy, just with a bit less blood in her body than she had before.
And it should also be noted that unless I am mistaken, I was the 666th viewer of the video today.
(Twelve) Carnage abounded, and with the exception of Emilys contribution, everyone came out relatively unscathed.
(Thirteen) The sights of the event were not unlike that of an exodus from a war torn land.
(Fourteen) As the sun set, things got ugly.
(Fifteen) Earlier in the day, as a gold SUV attempted to break our stride, and actually hit one of our soldiers, Hewhowillremainunnamed presented the driver with a shirt that simply stated "I tried to run over a cyclist and all I got was a huge dent kicked in the side of my vehicle and the hat stolen off of my head."
This is his hat.
(Sixteen) As the glow of the fire subsided, we began to pack our weary and weathered souls back to the safe confines of various sidewalks, thicket clusters, beds, floors, and alleyways.
(Seventeen) Waking up the following morning to cheer on the few of us brave enough to engage in the Powderhorn cross race, the trigger finger was feeling a little shaky.
(Eighteen) Packing up and saying our goodbyes to old friends and new, its occurred to me that Im not 24 years old any longer, and no matter how much practice I put into this kind of living, its never going to get any easier. Thats not to say however that at some point next October, on the loamy trails of the Mighty Mississippi, were not going to be back, howling at the moon, swapping clothes, and falling back down those proverbial stairs into that damned kiddie pool.
Im on my way out of town to meet up with destiny at The Homie, so before I bail, allow me to clear out my inbox once again.
Look out Minneapolis. Im coming, and Im thirsty.
So at the start of this here post, we have photographic evidence that regular Bummer Life contributor Cary, is in fact the heir to the throne of Douche.
No surprise there...
And one from Davin;
"And from Coupla things for ya.
I'm neither for nor against the SF fixie epidemic in principle. Where I will make a stand is to say that, for the love of mismatched early nineties aero composite wheels, ya gotta have a goddamn sense of humor about the whole thing. I walked by this bike in the park last weekend that someone (not me) had apparently felt needed some commentary puns. Right up there with bacon in my book.
Los Quesos Grandes here at Mike's Bikes recently went to Ghana to help give bicycles a foothold in developing areas and whatnot. They came back with some crazy pictures. Most bike shops I've worked at have been 2 or 3 times my age, but no old school service department I've ever seen has anything on the bike shops of Ghana. I mean damn:"
Keep on writin' stuff and stuff. And bikes. Yeah, bikes.
-Davin"
Looking at the first image, and then the second and third images kind of puts things into perspective. By nature I think human beings are prone to talking smack, but in the big picture, I seriously doubt that the folks at the bike-explosion stand care one way or another what youre riding, due to the fact that in their reality the bicycle is a necessity, and not a luxury. When its the latter, folksll' tend to get all uppity and stuff.
And to aimlessly continue, on the rare occasion I rode a fixed gear when I was messengering, I was teased by other folks on the road who were more 'core'. Now I receive sideways glances by hipster kids when I ride my fixie cause Im a weird old guy biting their style.
At the end of the day, were all going to be old and then eventually die, and all of this nonsense will be just that.
And in honor of embracing my inner jackass, I will now freely admit that right now Im listening to the first Justin Timberlake album.
And I like it.
Elmes sent this photo to us that he took on a trip to Nepal. I dont think this guy cares what other people in his town are riding...
Well except for the poor sap who will eventually have to work on this beaut that Damon sent in.
I never looked forward to telling someone that their baby was a liability and that I, in no uncertain terms, was ever going to lay a wrench upon it.
Save your money. Youll need it for dental reconstructive surgery.
Our man on the mountain, George wrote in with the continuing saga that is his comic book life;
"dude bro,
My friend Alex (the lovely man whose bed we fight over
and cross racer) and I are at a loss for words, we
don't know how his lovely receipt ended up in your
hands! anyway we're stoked.
More crap from Alex includes this photo "leftright."
Alex is currently down in Corvalis, OR taking on
another degree while fending off girls in black
t-shirts from Seattle with a stick. He is an avid
bike polo player, enjoys long walks on the beach under
moonlit skies, photos, cheap whiskey and listening to
the saturday morning reggae show (kexp.org) with Kid
Hopps while eating bear mash and stealing his
neighbors wireless.
We sucessfully got the tentative last ride up high on
the mountain last saturday. we got out early, ate a
gut bomb of a breakfast that had us in the shitter
before our shoes were on and then up the hill we went
at snowmass. We all had some good wrecks to culminate
the season. Back at the car I unveiled the suprise of
multiple Beers for all and then promptly dented the
downtube of my pal's brand new Nomad driving over
speed bumps at 30 in the 4runner with the bikes over
the tailgate. goodtimes, we made it home and then we
saw our reflections in a snow covered hill.
constantly yours,
george"
We cant ever hardly mention George without mentioning CO. Well in his continuing attempts at obtaining journalistic superstardom, he emailed us today and has an interview in the works that will blow your hair around.
Hold on to your hats if you got em. Its gonna be messy.
And while were on the subject of messy, The Warlocks Bicycle Club are having themselves a little E-vent.
And let us continue for a moment with the messy.
Captain Loudass sent this peach to us;
"You can't prosecute somebody for swearing at a cop or a toilet,"
Its hard to blame her. Toilets are always scheeming and shifty. You never know what they are going to do or how they will betray you. One minute they will be your friend, and they next they are stabbing you in the back. You cant trust a toilet. I often get into arguments with them. I dont trust the sink either."
Oh, and I cant forget to include this bit of latebreaking news;
Moustaches and guns.
Sounds like Christmas.
Ok, I think Im through here. Ill be having a pow wow with El Corpo and the rest of the clan tomorrow to discuss exactly which corner office Ill soon be occupying, and then will be making my way to the Great White Midwest. Everybody keep the fort down for me in the meantime.
Next time we meet, my liver and my shins will be sufficiently scabbed.
The humble beginnings of the dollar preme, and scrapings from the barrels bottom.
"Why you giving away all that cash?"
- Homeless guy at a bike race.
* Photo by Chris Patterson
Truth be told, the dollar preme thing came about during 1999 Cross Nationals that was held in the San Francisco Presidio. Wed initially thrown down money so that when a straggler bent over to pick it up, theyd get dogpiled, but then I believe it was Pete Webber who snatched one of the dollars and ended up taking fourth place. 'How cool is that?' we thought. One of the elite men has time to kick ass, and get paid.
And so was the birth of the dollar premes.
Plus I figured, no matter how much grief I give the racers, they cant really get mad without looking like a jerk on account of the fact that theyre being given free money.
See? Its a win-win situation.
And so there you have it.
Our friends at Ghostship Clothing sent notification of an upcoming bicycle related event. We like the monster cause he looks like hes got a ball-chin.
I was looking through my in-box this weekend and found a bevy of items that had fallen by the way side. Lets get through these offerings in no particular order, shall we?
From the Biking Viking, we have more Weng Weng.
From our compatriot Cameron who sent a note mentioning that he was moving to Dallas this week- He wants to know if we could link him up with some kind of fun urban hi-jinx out there in the city of the Ewings.
Specifically I think he was looking for alley cats and the like, but if anyone knows of swingers clubs or S&M parties, I suppose making new friends is making new friends, right?
So Dallas, show us what youre working with.
El Corpo sent this photo on in case there was any doubt that he has friends in very, very high places.
Everything Landon knows about bicycle suspension, he learned right here.
He also sent the following receipt in. I collect any receipt that totals $6.66. Three man cans from Nob Hill, a tuna sandwich, a bag of Kettle chips and an Odwalla from the crummy corner store.. I found numerous combinations, but Id really like one from this joint.
And now for one to make your ears want to crawl into your head- Cary writes in with this beaut;
"When I was a student at Holly Cross High School I found that there’s two types of catholic girls, ones that do and ones that don’t. These girls obviously do…because they suck."
..And then John wrote in;
"lets see- this is a long vid but wow.. I don't know how to start. Take a bike, put Hummer branding on it, have the operator that is in the running for douche box of the century, have improperly toed brakes so they squeal real bad, and then brag about all the "extreme" single track you did because you're too fucking lazy to pedal the damn thing by yourself and how you can go faster than your "woman" with your amazing top speed of 24. This just makes me feel better about myself. The only thing that I was wishing for that didn't happen, was for the guy to eat major shit.
Put a diaper on, you may just shit yourself."
So now, heres one more for the ladies. The fine folks at Urban Velo are putting another issue together, and are looking for some contributions from the farer sex. They write;
"We're looking for people from around the world to contribute to Urban Velo's regular section "I Love Riding in the City".
What we need are a good b/w photo (or piece of artwork) and your responses to the following:
NAME TO BE PUBLISHED:
LOCATION TO BE PUBLISHED:
OCCUPATION TO BE PUBLISHED:
• Where do you live and what's it like riding in your city?
• What's your favorite (or the most exotic) city you've ever ridden in, and what's special (or memorable) about it?
• Why do you love riding in the city?
• Or just say whatever you want about riding in the city... Poetry anyone?
Email your responses to jeff@urbanvelo.org."
Oh yeah, and this is pretty rad-
After 15 years, my old Bellwether knickers have finally given up the ghost.
Due to the photo below, I was required to register my ass as a lethal weapon.
I wonder if that would be covered by their warranty....
J.R. is our eyes on the fast paced world of fashion. Never one to let the cutting edge slip through his fingers, he forwarded this shot on;
Though thats only slightly worse than my neighbor whos presently manning a pinata and wearing a hot dog costume,(Im totally serious about that, by the way)
-by avoiding the bummer life themselves, they have piled it in spades, on everyone else.
Winters swiftly approaching, but for those of you in the state of Northern California, for the time being, the dirt is absolutely perfect.
Anybody get a taste?
ThaswhadImtalkinbout.
..Damn. One last thing, I promise. Many years ago I had a friend who worked at a photo processing place in Flagstaff. She would develop my photos for me for free any time I liked. Id send her the disposable cameras, and shed eventually send me the prints.
Yesterday I got an envelope in the mail containing one final roll. Among the random shots of Robert Ives Bachelor party, which are a trainwreck all to themselves, there was this shot I took under a San Francisco overpass, Im guessing around 1997.
Lets all soak in his glory, shall we?
I think thats all Ive got. We hope everybody had a great weekend. Personally, aside from the requisite bicycle riding, building, fixing, and breaking thats standard fare with two whole days of free time, life found me having a new bathroom floor put in and steam cleaning the carpets.
Yeah, you heard me.
You shouldn't be afraid to admit that youre jealous of my life.
Trust me- I understand.
And there I was foolshly wondering what I might post for Friday...
CO has generously provided an interview he completed with Nat Ross after the infamous Cross Vegas beer feed.
Read on... COs journalistic genius is staggering.
"So anyone who is tapped into this site knows about the now infamous “Beer Feed” that occurred at ‘Cross Vegas over Interbike week involving endurance cycling legend Nat Ross. One of the coolest dudes in the business, Nat has been criminalized by race promoters for compromising the integrity of the event and the promoter has vowed to submarine Nat’s event commentating career. For all those who have raced in Colorado or have attended a endurance event nationwide, you know nobody avoids the bummer life quite like Nat. He is a true ambassador to all things cycling and he is getting fucked. The following interview the first in a one part series with people I actually like:
1. From your perspective, explain the now infamous “beer feed” incident?
-Yes, what a night. Vegas is such a hard town to be an athlete in. So, I gave in with out a fight from the moment I stepped on to the strip. The night before, I spent most of my singles in the Titty Bar. Adam Craig and I were on a mission to make mad money in Cross Vegas and recoup the losses. Adam eventually won 43 dollars and I earned a mere 12. Guess next time I should bunny hop more barriers! I remember that the race hurt pretty bad and that I was really thirsty. Other than that, that whole night was a blurr.
2. Was ‘Cross Vegas your first “beer feed”, because from the looks of the video you are a seasoned veteran?
-Cross Vegas was not my first and it certainly won’t be the last. My Australian buddy sent me a cool photo of me drinking a recovery drink after getting 4th in the European Championships a couple of years back. Our beer is better than theirs, check out their tiny beer glasses. What a tease…
3. Is Stevil Kinevil:
A: The inventor of the beer feed
B: The godfather of the beer feed
C: A fucking douche bag
-How bout choice D: Stevil drinks Schlitz Gay. It’s considered beer by mid-westerners, but does it really count?
(Editors note: Ill drink Schlitz, but anyone who knows me will tell you Im a King Kobra man)
4. Are you a leg shaver?
-My legs sport the fuzz. I did shave my legs the first time I did RAAM. Jimi Mortenson and I both missed that session this year. Our team consisted of two harries and two shaved catz. We won the four man division for the 3rd year in a row. Next, year we will all sport hairy legs!
5. Do you have an extensive criminal background or is this the first time you have fractured an unwritten law?
-I am not at liberty to say, but my probation officer is an avid Tri Geek and could be reading this, so I better say that I mind my P’s and Q’s in this interview.
6. If provided, would you wear an orange jumpsuit in your next race??
-Probably not, Well, maybe if it were retrofitted with stripes and a number. Just break away the ball and chain first so I can at least clear the barriers. Actually, I would prefer to wear pink cause the Tough Girls fly the cyclocross flag pretty damm hard- Tough Girl Cycling(dot)com
7. You still use bar ends, do you ever refer to them as “Onza Bars”? Cause my dad does…In a old schooly sort of way!!
-Bar ends are gay, but I use them anyway. My girl is into multiple positions, so I try and practice for her 24-7. If you know what’s good for you you should mount up too.
8. One time I saw you at a cross race encouraging every racer, in every class by yelling through a bullhorn…Why would somebody do such a thing??
-Because sometimes the racers drink too much beer the night before the race. Bullhorns severly amplify my annoying voice to really piss them off and make them pick up the pace. It seems to work great for a good two hundred yards. I actually just replaced my batteries to last another season. Watch out, you could be my next victim.….
9. You lent me your bike for 24 Hours Moab…Which is akin to letting your sister go on a date with Ted Bundy…What were you thinking??
-Gary Fisher would strongly approve if you know what I mean. Just doing my job…
10. Who is the baddest motherfucker on the planet?
-Right now I would have to say Adam Craig. He won 43 dollars in one hour while wearing a skinsuit. Not bad for the single speed champion of the world. But can he count? I don’t know if I see 43 dollars in the pic. Where was the rest stuffed? That’s what I thought, sock or not Adam is still the man. He even has a silly tattoo to prove it.
-CO note: The folks at dbcevents(dot)com are actually super cool and are really pushing competitive Cyclocross in the US to a whole new level….But, in this instance they are being humorless ass clowns!!"
So there you have it. Nats the man, Adams the man, and COs also kind of the man by association.
What the hell? Im in a giving mood. Welcome, all three of you, to the esteemed league of Friday Heros.
Up now, Ashley sent this video on. Kinda makes you want to go make some stuff, no?
A.K. writes in for a bit of advice in the brand new "Ask Stevil" segment of The Bummer Life.
-"Dear Stevil,
What do you do when your little brother can totally grow and pull off a way sweeter ‘stache than you?"
A.K.,
Not to discourage ether you or your younger brother from embarking on the wonderful journey that is moustache growing, but if thats what hes bringing to the table, and it really is tremendously better then yours, then Id have to say you should pack it in.
Im sorry, but its called 'tough love'.
Now then- two, *count em* TWO individuals emailed this video to us today. One of which simply had 'proof of Gods existence' in the subject line. You know its gotta be good.
The only bicycle messenger in Omaha emailed us for the Bicycle Messenger Appreciation Day offer that we extended, and I wanted to know a bit more about what his story was. He wrote back with the following email;
"You bet man, I actually deliver sandwhiches to the masses for Jimmy Johns. I have been doing it since last January, which is pretty cool story, I went to the interview and said yeah I wanna deliver on my bike, they questioned how i could do it and still be quick (which is their claim to fame freaky fast). So I said if your'e unsure just see how I do after a week. My first shift was from 4 pm to 2 am, I brought out over 500 dollars worth of sandies, the "driver" could only manage to pull a like 200.
I cover midtown Omaha, which is a blast to ride. Hills are all over the place and everything is nice and tight knit super fast. But its truly an incredible feeling to be out on the bike, people flip when you come to their door with their food, especially in the winter.(it gets pretty brutal here in those winter months) But boy do I love it. Omaha is a city full of race geeks and many recreational cyclists, which is great though. It a wonderful place to be.
Thanks again for your killer products and the steps you take to give back to the earth.
Eric"
Thats rad, plus it would appear that Eric has a thing for white Ouri grips, as do I. It just proves hes a man of taste as well.
Does anyone remember in the old Archie comic books, there was a story about how Jughead got a job delivering pizzas for Pops, but failed miserably because he would eat all of the pizzas before he got them to the people who ordered them?
That Jughead sure likes pizza.
The weekends as good as upon us, so get out there and make the most of the little time THE MAN allows us.
Giddyup.
The sun might be on its way to setting on this years series of Wednesday night rides due to imminent rain fall, and nowhere to hide from the drops, so we made a last dash to the woods in remembrance of our big furry friend, as well as to see the glowing amazingness of REA Speedwagons snow-white legs.
Its been a fantastic year with many highs and lows.
No one was shot with a bb gun.
With the exception of KB breaking his neck, and my middle fingers getting dislocated, there were no serious injuries.
At no point was anyone 'overserved'.
And at the end of the day and after all of the camaraderie, competition and kinship, the winner of this years Series of Wednesday Night Rides 'feats of strength', is the fresh faced young Hightower.
He rode uphill with one hand, he rode downhill with one hand. He rode the curb, the rolled the wheel, he shot the rifle, he flicked the pee bottle, and he descended downhill, without pedaling, in the dark....
Ultimately he accomplished all of these things, not actually consistently better than anyone else, but just enough to be crowned this years 'King of the Retards'.
Way to go buddy..
What else do we have? Oh yeah, this here is a new organic t-shirt design that was unveiled at Interbike this year that I feel weve got to boast about.
Those are over on the web store, dontchaknow?
Theres a ton of stuff about to be happening in and around Swoboville, so keep your eyes peeled cause you dont want to miss a thing.
Id elaborate about it here for you, but Id probably get it wrong on account of nobody tells me anything.
Rest assured, its gonna be bitchin.
Driver 8 was more than just a mammoth beast who left an endless trail if hair clumps behind him, sometimes smelled of dead seal and whod sooner snatch your pizza from your hand than look at you.
He was one of the gang who was present at bike races of every sort year after year and would still give you affection no matter how badly you sucked. He was endlessly patient, and regardless of how many times I grabbed his ears to get a hit of the velveteen fuzz on my face while wrestling him to the ground, he never snapped at, or bit me.
He was an amazing old man and will be missed dearly by his friends and family.
Now then, Mini Phinney slays it some more. The whole story is right here.
Congratulations Taylor. Youve made us very proud again.
If you ever wonder why these posts have absolutely no cohesive aspect to them whatsoever, and tend to jump around as they do, its because I have profound attention deficit disorder and cant hold a single thought for more than a few seconds.
That being said, this here clip is of the band Oxbow. They are fronted by an incredibly intelligent, albeit absolutely terrifying hulk of a man named Eugene Robinson.
At a live performance I once attended, I saw Mr. Robinson strip down to his unmentionables, and corner two hecklers for no more than a few minutes, all the while never dropping his microphone. When they finally emerged from the eclipse, they both had tears streaming down their faces.
I never knew what he said to them, if anything, but after reading this article in the The Vice Guide to Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll, I realized they got off pretty easy.
*Note- Eugenes article uses all sorts of expletives, so if that sort of thing offends you, you should just spend some time here instead.
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Swobo posterboy, and all around bike messenger superhero, AZ has been bestowed with a very top honor;
Washington DC Messenger Andy Zalan Receives This Year’s Markus Cook Award
The International Federation of Bicycle Messenger Associations (IFBMA) is pleased to announce that Washington DC messenger Andy Zalan has been awarded the 2007 Markus Cook Award. The Cook Award is given annually to bike messengers who best represent the camaraderie and community spirit of the international messenger community. In the past year, Andy set up the Destination Dublin race series in Washington that enabled several DC messengers to travel to the Cycle Messenger World Championships in Dublin, Ireland. His annual bike messenger calendar is a tribute to those who work day in and day out.
However, beyond Andy’s accomplishments of the last year, lies a decade long history of community advocacy and bridge building among American and European messengers. Andy is one of the founders of the District of Columbia Bike Couriers Association, one of the first organizers of alleycat racing in Washington and he brought the world to his city as host of the 1998 Cycle Messenger World Championships.
Andy has been instrumental to the continued success of the CMWC and is a critical component of the international messenger community. In his nomination for the award, veteran Swiss messenger, Luk Keller accurately summed up the international messenger community’s appreciation of Andy Zalan:
"He never loses the spirit. He unites every aspect of what I like about messengers (he’s uncomplicated, he can race, he can party, he's good-looking, he's smart, friendly, badass...helpful) and by being the way he is he unites the messenger mob with the messenger snob."
With all this in mind, the IFBMA and previous Markus Cook Award winners are pleased to welcome Andy to the list of winners."
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There arent enough congratulations in the world, Andy. You deserve every bit of honor you receive.
Now what was I saying about short attention spans?
Oh yeah...
...Ham Sandwiches are pretty sweet...
Bicycle Messenger Appreciation Day and a few other items of importance.
Thats right. Tuesday is Bicycle Messenger Appreciation Day. Should you see one around, buy em a juice and tell them thanks for keeping the cities chain lubed.
Anyhow, we here at Swobo want to extend our own personal thanks. Read on if you please...
From Oct. 9th 12:01 am to Oct 10th 12:00 pm, bicycle messengers will get 25% off any and all Swobo clothing. (No discount on the bikes, just the threads.)
In step 2 of 2 in the check out process, youll need to enter coupon code 10099.
Now for the fine print; but read it carefully-
*We do not refund money on orders that people don't properly enter.
*You can look for the adjusted pricing after you hit the button next to the Coupon Code box.
Now how are we going to ensure that just bike messengers are partaking in this deal, you ask? Well, partly, if you place an order, send your full name and a photo of you working to steve@swobo.com.
The other part is top secret and if we find youre exploiting this offer, the lights on our relationship will be snuffed indefinitely.
To clarify- one of these people qualifies, and one of these people does not;
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From our friend, BSNYC we just received this bit of Awesome.
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The 50 Yards of Hell was a bit fractured at the Cross Vegas race, but hooligans were holding it down all over the place just the same. Heres an update from one such individual from one of the eyes of the storm;
"Howdy y'all. Good to catch up at the show.
Thought you might like to see the video Chipps captured of our 'misbehavior' at the race. Our good friend Nat Ross was the 'victim' of heinous beer spraying. Of course, it was his girlfriend Janice who came up with the idea and naturally we took up the mantle to give our pal a true taste of cross racing. The organizer didn't care for it too much, and at one point called us "fucking pigs". Not satisfied with giving us just a verbal dismissal, he had two of our group escorted out by the po po. For spraying beer. At a cross race. In Las Vegas. Evidently, he's missing the plot about cross racing. Perhaps if those of us with breasts had been topless, it would have been more acceptable.
Notice how deftly he took my beer handup? That's a pro!
This from Nat:
"The promoter called me yesterday morning and commented on my liking the "Freak Factor". He couldn't understand why I would ruin the image of the sport and cause such a ruckus at his international event. I was scheduled to commentate his other UCI races in Boulder this November, but my actions are have greatly disappointed him. Right now, he has to process my take on why I would act this way. I have a great question for him. Why a beer sponsor at his event in the city of Sin? After getting tangled up in several crashes that night, I realized how thirsty I became as I observed all my friends including Gary Fisher himself having such a great time on the other side of the barriers."
Hopefully, we've done The 50 Yards of Hell proud.
-Chris"
Heck yeah youve made us proud. In all of my years of heckling, Ive only been escorted out of a race venue by sherrifs officers once. Really nice work folks.
From H.Q. comes this video..
El Corpo has the funniest ways of letting me know he thinks I should shave more...
Ive been thinking about Rap Snacks a lot lately, and as delicious as they are, they just kind of fly under my personal radar. Now if theyd make 'Black Metal Snacks', that would be something that would really speak to my particular aesthetic. Think of the possible flavors they could have;
'Cool Ranch Virgin Blood'
or maybe
'Nacho Cheese Burning Church'.
Yeah, Id be down to pack some of those in my lunch.
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So you all like art that doesnt suck right? We sure do. Thats why we like Ms. Sophie Franz.
I saw the resemblance illustrated somewhere, though I cant recall where.
Yo, wheres Snarf?
And what the hell, heres another clip..
...Awesome...
This guy, that we found here got a ticket on the bullet train to the bummer life.
No helmet, know problem. Know helmet, no problem.
Now it is with an incredibly heavy heart that I notify you of yet another dive bar gone upscale.
The photo here is the newly refurbished interior of The Eagles Drift-In which was located South of Market in San Francisco.
This spot was a fun zone of magnificent proportions. Inside those hallowed halls we had dance parties, going away parties, welcome home parties, dog piles, and dice games. Once on an unnamed individuals cell phone we called 867-5309 in every possible area code we could think of. I threw a dart into the back of Jakes leg there, I poured a beer into the back of the piano there, we knew every word of every song on the juke box, I went to that bar for the first time after my first ever mountain bike race. Once while wondering aloud where our favorite bartender had been, Dom looked up at the television screen and saw on a news report, footage of her being escorted from her apartment by police for the attempted murder of her abusive boyfriend. On my last visit, John Waters gave my better half a very hairy eyeball. Punk bands played there, country bands played there, the Bay Areas dot com boom and bust could very well have happened there. JMac ruled the pool table there, friendships were made and broken there. We had birthday parties, post-art show parties and memorial services there....
The more I think about it, the more I remember.
The Eagles Drift-In, much like a friend that has passed, youll be missed, and your memory will be embraced forever.
![Devil'sNightI[1]correct.jpg](http://www.howtoavoidthebummerlife.com/weblog/archives/Devil%27sNightI%5B1%5Dcorrect.jpg)
![peter_dancewear3[1].jpg](http://www.howtoavoidthebummerlife.com/weblog/archives/peter_dancewear3%5B1%5D.jpg)
![lifeasiknowit00[1].jpg](http://www.howtoavoidthebummerlife.com/weblog/archives/lifeasiknowit00%5B1%5D.jpg)
