Of course by this I mean that folks will have more beer on them and less of Brad's saliva.
Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't kind of heart warming seeing Brad feed Loudass like a mama bird feeds her babies.
A million thanks to photo ace Wil Matthews for being in the right place at the right time.
You know, here on The Bummer Life we have kinda got a family-type of unit.
We've got the genius under achiever who sits in his room eating candy and challenges himself by building scale models while blind folded that is George. There is the pervy, and compulsively masturbating little brother that's kept locked away in the attic that is CFO, and the autistic step brother that picks off pieces of wall paper and recreates Renaissance paintings on the floor with the scraps that is Slappy. Recently welcomed back into our home after some time away in the big house we have the drunken uncle who flicks cigarettes at you and then tells you to come sit on his lap and listen to stories about ''The Nam" that is Hurl. Of course there is the well dressed father who drops in between business trips to offer encouragement and uses big words that no one understands that is El Corpo. We have our two other uncles who wear matching suits and designer sunglasses that they never take off, who occasionally drop by between visits to the high dollar strip club and the top secret assassin training camps they run, that are DP and The Captain, and of course there is me. I'm the older brother who wears button down sweaters, spends my days listening to classic R&B on the radio, smells of sweat and defeat and swears alot.
However, most notably absent in this lot is the presence of any sisters. Uma comes in every now and again to make sure the lock on CFO's door is secure and to tell a joke letting us know that we're all going to be ok, but just as soon as she arrives, she's out the door again, off to partake in some wholesome fun at her big city college or at the soda shoppe where the clean kids hang out.
Why is this, I wonder? Aren't there any girls out there who want to be a part of the family?
Obviously we have Sky, who for all intent and purposes is sort of the matriarch of this clan of the damned, but she just sometimes sticks her head in the kitchen door, glances around and then ducks back out again, head shaking, and hands wrung up in knots.
Of course, her brow wasn't always so furrowed. There was a time that she just lounged around, bathing in her badassness and played piano with a prematurely aged girl from around the way;
Just look at the life and sparkle in those eyes. It's no wonder she went on to rule a world predominately run by men.
So.. Uh.. Where was I going with that?
Hell, I don't remember.
Probably another plea to any types of a female persuasion to get on the good foot and even out some of the damned testosterone that sometimes courses through The Bummer Life's veins, and to illustrate in words just what a boy's club we generally have here.
It just aint right, I tells you.
Anyway, would you guys like to see a photo of my spirit animal that James Newman sent to me?
I suspect, like me, my spirit animal has a penchant for fried chicken, Steven Segal movies, the memory of shadow boxing and chewing tobacco.
Not alot unlike this week's coveted HTATBL link dump winner at the Mod-Spot.
My man's been riding the dirt bicycles longer than jebus and has lived to tell the tale.
Now, in totally other news, it's not often that I use The Bummer Life to convey birthday wishes;
But today I'm going to throw caution to the wind and wish a very happy birthday to my beloved father, Mike Kinevil, pictured here with his brand new Swobo Otis;
I love that man very much and I hope he's around for another 72 years. Without his unwavering wisdom, and periodic spiritual beat downs, there is no telling how much farther I would have fallen in this life.
Now then, basically the reason there is nary a single reference to what went down this weekend is that I'm still immersed in it, and probably as you read this, am struggling with what might as well be a thousand mile commute back to home base after a wicked ugly couple of days in the Bay Area. I got all smarty pants on you and actually wrote this post while I still had two feet firmly planted on the ground, and my head had yet to even begin it's unstoppable spin.
You can bet I'll give you the full skinny (or is it the full monty?) on Wednesday. I hope you all had a rip roaring Saturday/ Sunday combo.
From the ass end of last week, I can already presume that I will have.
There are bad words on this video. Do you not like bad words? Then you shouldn't watch the video. If you don't mind bad words, then you should watch the video.
I'm going to start off by saying that this web log of ours (that's yours, mine and the company who employs me) is obviously a marketing tool. At least that's how it all started, but over the course of the last few years, has morphed into so much more than that. For me personally, it's become a forum, a sounding board, and even to some degree, a journal. Through this I've met new friends, reconnected with old ones, and processed ideas and thoughts that otherwise would have been unprocessable. In response to posts that I've put up, I have had a few correspondences in my time here that literally were life changing.
I scratch my head about this, because this is a business move, right? I'm not supposed to get emails from people saying that something I wrote made them cry, or laugh, or decide to finally speak to their estranged parents, or reassess their political views, or even dispose of a long closeted skeleton.. This is just supposed to make you want to ride your bike, or buy a jersey, but not email me, a total stranger, and tell me that something that was written here touched your soul in some way or another.
But the fact of the matter is that it has, and there are not enough words to describe my gratitude for this. Perhaps it is because I'm not a friend you see every day, or even occasionally. I'm a friend who you've seen a couple of times, or maybe even never at all, and perhaps this is why it works. Perhaps it is because I'm invisible, and we don't have to look at one another in the eye when secrets are told, and tears of sadness or tears of joy fall. Whatever the case, I have to extend my unfaltering thanks to all of you who've helped make this what it's turned in to, and my most genuine appreciation for the reaffirmation that what we have here is something bigger than it was supposed to be and the constant molding and re-molding that has ultimately made The Bummer Life into what it is.
Whatever 'it is' that 'it is'.
With all of that being said, I will now go ahead and flick my heart off of my sleeve back into the ash tray in which it usually sits, and pour out some of the typical jackassery that lives here.
Like for example, the banana knife from Ghostship Matt ;
Don't run with it. You might fall down and stab your bananus.
The rolling thunder known as Red Fang will be making it's way to The Bay Area directly, and because I'm a sucker for rock and roll action shots, here is one for your edification;
Also because I'm a sucker for Unicorns, and this young man depicted holding a Unicorn is a sucker for Red Fang, it's only suiting that we should come full circle and clump these shots in here together.
Finally, as long as we're on the topic of the Fang that is Red, how about an email from our friend GastonomicusFantzCrazznapper4;
"Hey Stevil,
Last Friday afternoon we were treated to a free show featuring Red Fang and Skeletonwitch. Skeletonwitch made me headbang, party down, jam out and drink beer, forever. Red Fang let me join the band for this one show only, where I rocked the air drums and guitar solos.
After the show I hooked up with these two chicks at the same time. (not really)
Got the highwater britches (knickers) in the mail last week.
My new fave slacks.
Later,
GastonomicusFantzCrazznapper4"
GFC is one of our very favorite dirtbags.
Hammer wielding, tiny short wearer George write to us with an update on his continuing adventures;
"hello friend,
With the recent global warming formally known as the Spring we packed it up several times and headed for moab.
We endured drive by moonings, a full on cookie pit stop ( I am not kidding here people, we spent about an hour shopping for cookies in Fruita; got some oreos, fig newmans, milanos, oatmeal raisins, and many more I've eaten and forgotten), music at ear bleeding noise levels for hours, the mandatory tent set up in the dark drunk bit, the mandatory porcupine rim trail ride;
Thrift store shopping where i picked up a beautiful 70's western button down and a never warn soulcraft hat, arches, we enjoyed 4 discs of a novel on tape we picked at said thrift store on the way home and we ate at the best thai restaurant on the western slope of great old colorado. all in all a full on success with no tickets or er trips.
Now if only the snow would melt...
George"
A few months ago George emailed me asking if we would cross paths at this summer's SSWC, which I said sadly we would not. I will be in Colorado this summer, but not for for the 500 pound gorilla that is the SSWC, but rather for the 500 pound gorilla that is my 20 year high school reunion. For years I never questioned whether or not I would go, as it was something I've long looked forward to. That is until I had a recent conversation with a young woman I knew back then and with whom have maintained a relationship all of these years, as well as our mutual friend, Skinny Bee, during which time I realized that in no way, shape or form did I want anything to do with the reunion after all.
I don't know what it was specifically that turned me off on the thought of going back, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. After a few weeks of licking the wounds from that conversation, I began taking a shine to the idea again, until the other morning when I awoke from this dream;
I was at my reunion, which was held in the lawn of the Lutheran Church in town. I got super drunk right out of the gate, and then attempted to quell said drunk with as much food as I could eat from the buffet. Unfortunately, while I was busy drinking, everyone else was busy eating, and all that was left for me was some dry chili that I had to put in a wooden bowl containing some party mix scraps. I then noticed that I was wearing a light blue pair of Dockers, and a navy blue rugby shirt with Christmas patterns embroidered all over it. No one would talk to me so I got a cup of coffee and wandered over to the periphery of the celebration, where I spilled the coffee and then promptly sat in it.
What do you suppose Sigmund Freud would have to say about that?
Anyway, I'm afraid that Christmas shirt and coffee stain or no, I would regret not going, and frankly regret is something I have no room in my life for.
Like The Butthole Surfers say in their song 'Sweat Loaf';
"Daddy, what does regret mean? Well son, a funny thing about regret is, that it's better to regret something you have done, than to regret something you haven't done.
And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, would you be sure and tell her, SATAN, SATAN, SATAN!!!'
As a matter of fact, I'm so committed to this event, that I even signed up for our class of '89 website, on which I added a profile, including these two photos;
I would rather regret shipping those fellows a box of feces, than to regret not sending those fellows a box of feces.
On my way out, I want to include two things that our friends at Manifesto Bicycles have got cooking. If you are a lady with a knack and an interest in turning the wrench, swapping stories, or just hanging around the shop and drinking the beer with others of the same ilk, then they've got the 'Women's Wrench Night' happening every first Monday;
The little shop that could is also gearing up to have their one year birthday with a hodown of epic proportions at The Stork Club;
I would be there with bells on (seriously, I have a sweet suit with bells all over it for just such an occasion), but I'm waking up at the ass crack of dawn the following morning to make my way to the Art Crank freak out, and unlike GenO, I actually don't like missing flights, so sadly I will be absent, but of course if you live in the area, this doesn't mean you have to be.
Welp, I think we've just about covered all of the bases on this installment. Mr. Blacksocks had a birthday just recently, and to celebrate, I think that because it's Wednesday, we should probably do what we do best, which of course is to get the thing that ends in 'tarded' and begins with 'rad'.
If you wouldn't mind, might I suggest you all do the same?
Monday's slice of unadulterated bummer life avoidance.
It's unfair that I should use Waldo as an example when referencing Hurl's late arrival on Friday, as Waldo has recently fallen on some very hard times;
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's asleep in the five dollar peep-show.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's staring down a stray dog for a scrap of Egg McMuffin® that somebody dropped.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's in line at the Methadone clinic.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's washing his hands in a stream of his own urine.
Speaking of urine, the collective that is The Soil Saloon are continuing their efforts at bringing the urban outlaw bike race to your very front porch.
That is unless you don't actually live in Golden Gate Park, then you'll have to ride there.
But never ones to be outdone by themselves, they're even throwing a pre-party to celebrate their own awesomeness;
It's events like these that you've been training all winter for.
And by 'training' I mean 'drunk in front of the fireplace'.
As detailed recently on The Bike Snob's Book Club, there is some swappage going on, and while said swappage isn't the kind that takes place at the big, round motel by the Oakland Airport, it's swappage none the less, and no sooner did I drop the Snob's book into the mail slot did a new book show up for me, sent from none other than DPow!
I'd already read all of the photo captions by the time I got to the top of my stairs, and as much as I want to unleash my blitzkrieg of a 15-word-a-minute reading comprehension on this bad boy, I'm opting to save it for my upcoming air travel marathon to Minneapolis.
As I was reflecting on this book as well as the previously posted reviews, I'd remembered another book I'd read that had completely slipped my mind, and as I said, book reading is something that's new to me, so I have to include all of them on the list if only to be fair to whoever it was that originally taught me to read.
The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. This is a breathtaking book that everyone needs to read. In fact this was simultaneously recommended to me by Oprah and Sean. Oprah is the lady on T.V, but I'd read about her referral in a magazine, and Sean is the guy who does my tattoos. By trade, Gavin De Becker counsels individuals on how to handle threats of all kinds, but this book basically details the fact that we as human beings actually possess a sixth sense. Our animal instincts have been dulled by living in a 'civilized' society, and how sometimes that little voice telling you something is wrong isn't just paranoia, but something physiological taking place.
The stories contained therein are generally from a female's perspective, due to the sad fact that overwhelmingly women are the victims of violence, but this information is clearly applicable to everyone of any gender.
To paraphrase one point De Becker makes in this book "men's greatest fear is to be laughed at by a women. A women's greatest fear is to be killed by a man."
In a last ditch effort to impress upon you the gravity, as well as the importance of this read, I'll go ahead and include some of it's text as well;
"Each hour, 75 women are raped in the United States, and every few seconds, a woman is beaten. Each day, 400 Americans suffer shooting injuries, and another 1,100 face criminals armed with guns. Author Gavin de Becker says victims of violent behavior usually feel a sense of fear before any threat or violence takes place. They may distrust the fear, or it may impel them to some action that saves their lives. A leading expert on predicting violent behavior, de Becker believes we can all learn to recognize these signals of the "universal code of violence," and use them as tools to help us survive. The book teaches how to identify the warning signals of a potential attacker and recommends strategies for dealing with the problem before it becomes life threatening. The case studies are gripping and suspenseful, and include tactics for dealing with similar situations.
People don't just "snap" and become violent, says de Becker, whose clients include federal government agencies, celebrities, police departments, and shelters for battered women. "There is a process as observable, and often as predictable, as water coming to a boil." Learning to predict violence is the cornerstone to preventing it. De Becker is a master of the psychology of violence, and his advice may save your life."
I couldn't have said it better myself.
This is some of the best, and most qualified advice on how one really can avoid a bummer life.
Nothing like derailing some brevity with some heavity, no?
So let's get back to the high life.
I'm a little taken aback that so few have stepped up for the HTATBL photo contest.
Are the prizes just not awesome enough?
Do I need to sweeten the pot?
The 'redneck foreplay' shirt alone is worth like, 8 dollars.
Alright.. Screw it. You know what? I'm going to go ahead and up the ante, because I know more than four of you have the kind of photos I'm talking about.
Besides my own personal shirt, and a brand new Swobo t-shirt, I'm going to throw in a Swobo/Drunkingham sticker pack.
How does that grab you?
Not really?
I coulda figured that..
Well, the previously offered brand new copy of The Night Marchers 'See You In Magic' for some reason was never presented to that alleycat in San Diego, so I'll throw that in as well.
Have you seen The Night Marchers?
Is it me, or does that John Reis just keep getting better looking?
From Max of the Durango/Brooklyn posse, we received the following communiqué;
(Note- as inspired by a recent Hurl post, from this point forward, correspondences will now be all italicized and what not.)
"Hay Stevil, thnx for the props. The first guy who came to the party brought us beer and said he'd read about it on the bummerlife. Thought I'd send you this shot of my missed attempt to fly away. I rode this bike from brklyn to laguardia airport the other morning after staying up all night; put a foot down at the airport at 6:46 for my 7:15 flight, never had a chance, NBD though, had a nice ride back and then had a sweet job interview since the bike shop fired me the day before re party, (after I'd worked a 24hr shift gettin ready.
Best thing that coulda happened to me I assure you. Yeah I also rocked the shop party after getting fired and they'll probably never see another so nice.
So yeah hopefully I make this flight, out of Newark where I was lost on the last day of the SLowBoken tour. Only fitting. Durango for a week of preparatory stompN! For all the glorious good fortune that's been afforded me over the last year, an overly long subway ride ( my second in NYC in 3 mo.) and a missed flight are a small price to pay. By the by this bike doesn't much fit but it sure gets the job done, and I caught a sweet ride, tucked in the slipstream of a big ol tanker from brklyn up to the queens bridge where I attacked, (actually traffic slowed then I got dropped) still a wicked ride though.
Peas,
slappy"
Max certainly is a bit of an urban guerilla.
It's generally around this time of year that the dirt clumps falling off of my bikes onto my garage floor begins to be a bit more than I can take, so at some point this weekend, in between rain showers, I took care of some sorely neglected Spring cleaning;
Not surprising however, it turns out that they don't make water hot enough to cleanse my bikes of last cross season's shame.
"I was admiring that brilliant piece by Petie Ngyuen again, and it reminded me of an incident when I was in high school. It was the final semester of my senior year, and I had already been accepted to U.C. Davis, so all I had to do was graduate. I had taken some AP and Honors classes, so I could fail 2 or 3 classes and still have enough credits to graduate. I was taking calculus and I despised it along with all other math. So, I decided that I would fail the class, and would do so in style. On each of the tests we were given, I would work through complex mathematical equations with complete gibberish. Sometimes I would draw a comic instead, or recite a Run DMC or LL Cool J line. My teacher was a nice old man, and when I explained the situation to him, he resigned himself to letting me do what I wanted so long as I didn’t disrupt the class [which was a tall order in itself, as I was constantly being suspended for “disturbances”]. I wish I had kept the tests. Toward the end, I started to put quite a bit of effort into them, and they were lavishly illustrated pieces."
It's because we surround ourselves with go-getters like Loudass that we are on a rocket ride to the top.
As I've said before, it's with a little pinch of over, a dash of out, and you can stick a fork in me, cause I'm done.
Looks like I overslept. Might of had something to do with the Tallboys....
Better late than never, that's what they always say, right? So jumping right in: In certain nefarious cycling circle(s) here in the 612, The Slick 50 has become something of an annual "Spring Classick" . This year's ride is tomorrow, and in preparation, I enlisted the help of 3 very powerful men: From L-R: B-Rad, Barista to the (rock)stars, courier for life, all-pro angler. Zitox, Yeah, Guy! MILWAUKEE! The German, Rapha-afficionado, None (wears) More Black.
This year's edition, The Arc de Tri-Grump, will encompass 3 different Grumpy's Bars, cover roughly 75 miles, and put a few people in the pain locker.
SLICK 50 '09 [more like Slick 100k....]
GRUMPY'S TOUR DE FORCE (Arc de Tri-Grump)
Saturday, 21 March, 2009.
Breakfast? You're on your own. I'd recommend oatmeal. 12 noon: depart from Grumpy's Northeast-No Bullshit, and no, we won't wait for you.
Grumpy's(Mpls-NE)-Grumpy's(St. Bonifacius)-Grumpy's(Mpls-DT).
[Ride will finish at Grumpy's Downtown]
This is a ride, not a race. That said, it is a fast group ride. We do not "wait up." If you're not comfortable riding for 5+ hours, it could get ugly; bring your vagisil, or Bag-Balm™, or whatever you need to stay dry.
Fenders recommended.
COMING SOON: (as in tomorrow)
There will be no team cars allowed...
There may be some of these...
Get ready...
Stevil didn't want you to know about Swobo's latest creation. But it is a good one. See for yourself:
If you're down near Columbus, OH, next month, do yourself a favor and be sure to check out pal Jim's upcoming show. As the man himself writes, "hey hurl. i'm having a show in columbus, ohio next month in a very bike friendly gallery. i'm trying to get the word out far and wide as i think this will be the last of the trucks for me and the first of michelle maguire's derby photos. i've attached a press release. if anyone you know has an interest, please forward it. and of course if you find yourself in columbus for god's sake take a look-see.
missed you at the coffee shop last time i was in town...i'll try again next time. very nice shop by the way. beautiful rides and the new tees are solid.
greasy side down.
jim z."
If you saw his last show in Mpls, "Air-Ride Equipped," then you know the man is a regular B.J. & The Bear fan:
Apropos of nothing, here is a picture of the vending machine at the CRC World HQ company lunch room:
Lastly, if you are in need of help marketing your "lifestyle product" you could do a lot worse than enlisting the services of industry veteran/player, CD. As he recently wrote to a core group of cycling industry braintrusts: "I appreciate your proactive stance on this, (deleted), but it's far too early to drill down that far on timing. Let's look at this from 30,000 feet as a high level meeting to determine how we can add value to our shared show experience. Let's open a dialog on this action item keeping in mind we'll need to be goal-oriented and results-driven as we move this challenge to our dashboards. I'd recommend a scoping document as your next deliverable to this sidebar meeting. On a go forward basis we can touch base using online and offline meeting protocols using you as our point of contact. Just so that we're all on the same page I'd like to see some varied cross-platform synergies among our success metrics. Additional milestones should include Value Justification and Content Optimization keeping in mind the voice of the customer.
Trended analysis and best practices are our calls to action in determining our return on invested capital. Let's capture the low-hanging fruit, (SEO 2.0 and B2E are great examples), and really work toward alignment and user engagement. Again, I like the visibility on this and hope to share your voice in making this actionable. We're living in an emotional economy and this sort of personalization is exactly the the type of brand integration our team needs.
Great work, let's mobilize.
Best regards,
Chris DiStefano
If you have any idea what that last paragraph means, then you probably work for AIG and you should return your bonus immediately, you lousy jerk....
In closing, I'd like to welcome you all to another vernal equinox. Go forth and revel in the beauty of Mother Nature's rebirth. You know, Sun Dress Season....
Since I'm still sailing on a sea of self admiration for Monday's post, (it really was something to behold) I'm going to keep this one short and sweet with what Swobo Bicycles has new up our sleeves for two thousand and nine. Of course you've already been introduced to the new Sanchez;
But the two other new babies slatted for arrival are the Baxter;
and the Crosby;
Of course you might be curious as to what kinds of bells and whistles will be adorned on these two labors of Sky's love, and I would be happy to tell you. Better yet, I'll simply copy and paste a few specifics straight from Sky's top secret laboratory;
The Baxter;
Model: 700C Shimano Alfine 8-speed internal hub Urban bike with disc brakes and clearance for fat tires and fenders.
Frame details; Horizontal sliding dropouts w/integrated adjusters. Internal cable routing on top tube.
Fork: Swobo carbon, 1 1/8", disc mounts.
Brakes: Shimano mechanical disc brakes, front and rear.
Hubs: Shimano Alfine 8-sp internal rear, Swobo front w/locking Q/R.
Ball park retail: $1,099.00
The Crosby;
Model: Fixed/Free/Single/Derailleur/Disc/Cantilever Cross or Road bike with clearance for fat tires and fenders. (Thats right. It's a hub that can be either fixed, or free, with the turn of an internal nut.)
So that is the goods in a nutshell. I've had a chance to ride both of them, and the internal hub on the Baxter is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. If I don't miss my guess, this hub will go down in history as one of the best internal hubs ever designed.
We should be seeing these bikes arrival towards the end of April, or the beginning of May.
Knowing you all like I think I do, I suspect you like those apples just fine.
In indoor bike racing news, the one eyed wonder gave us a shout concerning an upcoming event out Kansas City way;
"If you could be so kind and spread the word sir....
Its time for KCsprints race #2
This time around we have the MPLS boys from Coldsprints in town to do the honors of showing us their version of this event.
They have held Coldsprints for a couple of years up north were it gets really REALLY cold and we are honored to have them in attendance.
Same venue, same times, different crew, different gear, same fun"
But maybe you're nowhere near Kansas City. Maybe you're in Pittsburgh. If that's the case, then you're in luck as well, because for you all I offer the upcoming Black and Gold Sprints.
Then again, maybe you find yourselves in Cincinnati, sitting there saying "I don't care about Kansas City or Pittsburgh."
"Hey Stevil,
We're crawling to the end of our winter Goldsprint Series here in Cincinnati. This one is going to be huge. I appreciate you helping me let the world know that Cincinnati has more to offer than just bad chili, goetta, and King Records:
Kenny Smith on King Records in CINCINNATI.
Goetta, which is some kind of German breakfast item found only in Cincinnati (replaces bacon in these parts apparently - I'm originally from Tennessee, we eat bacon while it's still kicking.)
and this huge promotional flyer for an indoor roller-racing style fun fest that allows us to have some adult beverages while making fools of ourselves to loud music. It's fun.
Thanks, you are awesome.
_eric
cincinnatigoldsprints"
You're very welcome, and you're right.. I am awesome.
Awesome like apple pie and cheddar cheese, not awesome like this email from Jani;
"Hey Stevil,
Was searching ebay for a replacement cross wheel...the 24 spoke rear my bike came with just doesn’t work for me.
Stumbled across this Russian 666 track wheel which looks like it is made out of timber or fabric??
A bit pricey though.
Cheers-
J"
$1,500 bucks is a small price to pay for such an item, and if I won the lottery last week, like the kid at the liquor store who sold me my ticket promised I would, you know I would have that in the back seat of my 1979 Trans Am.
By the way, did I mention that I caught "Watchmen" the other night? Having long been a fan of the book, I was excited for, albeit a little bit skeptical of a big screen adaptation. I ended up being pleasantly surprised, my whistle being all the more wetted for the eventual production of The Preacher;
You say you're unfamiliar with this series? It is hands down, one of the most staggeringly epic of all graphic novels ever produced, and has forever altered general perceptions of the medium. Should you find yourself with a taste for the perverse, and a story line that in a matter of a fraction of the over all series, had me laughing, crying, nauseous, empowered, nostalgic, inspired, curious, angry and ultimately completely bewildered, then I recommend you haul ass to either a comic book store, or here to buy the entire nine book bound edition.
With nary a reservation I can guarantee that it will lay waste to your perception of the world around you.
Alright, I'm doneski. In closing I'll leave you with this fine piece of visual gold that was created for me by Zoltron;
Babysit? No..
Draw you until my fingers bleed? Absolutely, and forever.
Right out of the gate, I'm dropping the ball. So to speak..
And speaking of balls, this amazing action shot has been floating around my proverbial universe of a media collection for years, and not remembering where it originally came from, I was never able to give proper credit for it.
Well, lucky for me, fate was on the side of the sharp eye behind this photo, and her name was delivered to me from the heavens.
Thank you from here to eternity Ms. Courtney Allison, for being in the right place at the right time.
So, holy lord was last week busy. The Skipper was off partaking in his annual motorcycle ride/vision quest in some desert or another, and I was running the show solo. As I had described to someone recently, the last week and a half had me feeling like my brain was actually attempting to escape out of the top of my skull, but despite it all, there was still tons of this;
a little bit of this;
and a whole lot of mail in the mail bag, so without wasting any more time, lets get into it.
First up, Matt writes;
"That concept vehicle has to be around somewhere... I want it."
All I can say is that when it gets t-boned by a simi truck, all that will be left will be ten million dollars worth of dust that you can vacuum up with your handy on-board dirt devils.
While we're on the topic of Pontiac's suck-worthiness, lets get into an email from DP;
"So, in further perusing the Denver Craigslist, I came across this little number, which in my all-things-Reynolds/Trans Am superfan existence, had seemingly somehow managed to fly under my radar over the years. So I think, "no effing way, that's just a T/A sticker on the top tube", nonetheless appreciating the seemingly bent back nature of the stem, plus ghetto tip (not full flip, mind you) style bar ergos. "Hmm... that thing definitely must move...I mean, that's some serious acceleration and requisite hanging-on to put those kind of forces into that stamped steel stem...like, 11...12 seconds in the quarter mile or what? Must be a T/A..."
So the Google gets warmed up, and it turns out that while Columbia did produce a "Trans Am" model in 1979 that had some Bandit hints;
some homeboy in MN took it to eleven.
Rock it,
DP"
If I know The Bandit like I think I know The Bandit, he just slapped the smile right off of his own face.
...And by 'smile' I mean 'moustache'.
Michael took some time out of his day to send us an email chock-full of the sickness;
"Sup Stevil? (Greeting more than legitimate query)
It's raining-sleeting her in the D like a MoFo and I gots the cabin-fever. The innernets brought me this to keep me sane. Figured I would share.
A quick bit of G4ed Japanese game show Bicycle Radtardedness;
13 dude. 13. When I was 13 I thought I was hot shit for pulling bunny hops onto park benches. Oh, and apparently some Japanese bus drivers worship at the Church of Hans Rey.
Peactecles,
Michael the G"
Was my man's helmet on backwards?
Anyway, it obviously doesn't slow him down any, and when I was that age I was too distracted by my own pubic hair to get any real work done, so my opinion doesn't matter in the least.
Come to think of it, I was kinda on the same page as Jake, in this clip sent by Ken;
Actually, upon further consideration, I'm still on the same page as Jake.
Fomenter gave us a shout from up Bellingham way to let us know how a recent hootenanny he threw went down;
"Stevil,
Thanks for posting the flyer for our little "It's Your Birthday Alleycat" last week. I can't really say if it bumped our numbers or not (quite possible it scared a few people off) but we appreciate the press nonetheless. Irregardless and despite some tumultuous weather (a little rain, a little snow, and a lot of cold) many dedicated hellinghamsters found the motimentum to come out for the festivities;
We had lots of birthday related shenanigans to keep them busy such as ass-to-ass balloon popping, beach front sack races, and the ever popular pin-the-hipster-on-the-fixie. We provided hats and party favors too;
We also had our share of clowns show up. No not these jokers;
I meant these two;
Good times indeed. Maybe you'll be up in the 'Ham parts for the next one. We're thinking summer sounds good - if it ever gets here. As always, more pics and words can be found on zee blog. Thanks again.
fomenter"
You had me with the hot mimes.
I truly thought all of my bizarre fetishes had been realized, but today seems to mark the beginning of a new chapter.
Josh from the Urban Assault Ride cartel got ahold of us to let it be known that the livers and egos ruined in last year's series was just the beginning;
"What up Stevil,
Check out the new Urban Assault shirt. It was designed by Adam Turman and we’re quite pleased with it. I’ll be sure to send you one when they’re ready.
Can you drop a note in the blog mentioning that that UAR is in 10 cities this year (we’re adding Tucson 4/19, Nashville 5/3, and St Louis 8/16) and that we have more FREE New Belgium BEER than ever before.
Hope all is well brother,
Josh"
Well, Josh, I would mention that, but it seems as though you just beat me to it.
That's right ladies and gentlemen, the virus that is the Urban Assault Ride series is spreading like... well, a virus... Except it's the kind that you most definitely want to get.
Mark you calendars, and hone up on your tiny bike limbo skills. Youre gonna need 'em.
One of my favorite people in Portland who I don't really know is a young woman by the name of Uma. This is opposed to people in Portland who I do know.. Like for example, Cheever. That being said, the bar to become my favorite is obviously not set very high.
But she has wormed her way into my heart with emails like this;
"You're an artist, and methinks possibly a somewhat literary man. Possibly. I don't really know. But even if you're not and you think Whitman sucks, you may find this a tad radtarded.
I wish I had the cojones to write something that wonderful when I was a kid. Maybe it's not too late....
Uma"
Brilliance is as brilliance does, and my friends- me even saying that is so brilliant, I don't even know what it means.
If Peter ever runs for president, I'm going to vote for him.
He obviously is not only radtarded, but totally profehessianal to boot.
While we are on the topic of radtardedness, we should probably get into an email from (s)Miles;
"Stevil,
Long time reader, love avoiding the bummer life with you! Us in the deep south don't quite have the sweet singletrack ya'll do on the West Coast, but we do our best.
Here is a video link to the annual Rouge-Roubaix in South Louisiana, a rough 100 mile road ride, Louisiana-style. As the race director put it, "Be safe, follow the road signs, you just want to get through this thing alive."
(editor's note- since I'm an old grouch with little patience for Linkin Park, might I suggest you open a new window and use this as a soundtrack for the video instead?)
Up here in the Northern part of the state, we're doing our best too, having been featured in MTBAction mag twice.
Slow and low,
sMiles"
Nope, not too shabby at all. It seems as though these days you can't swing a cat without hitting some death march or another, but then again, some mornings riding to work is about all I can muster, so I'm no qualified gauge.
In light of the last few month's world financial turmoil, there is little to smile about, but Tiffany dug up a bit of news that proves there is a glimmer of hope yet;
"if'n yer able to bank while takin care of yer bidness - i believe the bummer life has been avoided leavin plenty o' time fer more funner stuff like ridin."
It beats the hell out of keeping my money stashed in the barn/moonshine stil/washing machine in the front yard.
Besides, if you open a checking account, you get a free pig.
The Snake Hawk sent us a must-have for those of us who've been ticketed for urinating in public while out on the links;
"If only it were available as a seatpost."
But what are the lady golfers among us supposed to do?
As far as all of that goes, one time many years ago, I was standing there, doing something, while somewhere, and I really had to pee. There were crowds all around me, and in the state that I was in, I thought it best to dig a little hole, and lay on top of it while I relieved myself. That way if someone saw me, they would just think I was taking a nap.
See? Brilliant.
Now among all of the emails I've received in recent days, the following has to be one of my favorites;
""Subject: This is for Stevil Kinevil
Hey Stevil -
Just wanted to say thanks for all the people you've been turning on to us. I noticed right after it went up on youtube that you'd posted our video on your blog and after playing Boise it was very clear that people pay lots of attention to HTATBL. If you check the statistics on the youtube page, the top two references are from your blog. That rules!
Where are you based? Boise? How did you find out about us? Do I maybe know you?
Thanks again..
Aaron / Red Fang"
Now that's the kind of email that can make a fella's day. By the way, if you haven't been keeping tuned in to Red Fang's tour blog, you really ought to.
Funny, funny stuff.
Would you believe that we've just barely scratched the surface of what my inbox has stuffed into it? It's a veritable treasure trove of offerings such as the ones I've laid out before you so far today. I'll see if I can't play catch up some more on Wednesday, but now in closing I'm going to present to you, in as few words as possible, a little bit of the bummer life avoidance I got into this weekend.
Friendly Paul;
plus gorillas in the mist,
divided by a big, long climb,
multiplied by miles of the East Bay's finest single track,
with a remainder of approximately one million 24 ounce cans of PBR leading to JMac's horizontalness,
and a shot of Pew's feet for good measure,
-just about sums up the abstract equation that was my week's end.
Have I mentioned lately that I am absolutely fanatical about how bad ass my life is?
If I had one wish, it would be that each of you out there reading this feels the same way about your own.
Well, that and for the scores of brain cells that dropped from my ears in the last two days to return.
The crushing weight of Monday is once again upon us, and it's time to press our collective faces against the proverbial grind stone.
Set the clock, and fly right. We will soon be able to do it all over again.
I have never been too superstitious so I suppose today is just like any other day. But for some, superstitions = evil. And what's more synonomous with evil than metal?
Tea Bag Dale, seen here playing air bass, turned us on to this at McSweeneys, and as he notes in his email: "1/4 million METAL ROCKERS for $5? Yeah, that seems about right, isn't that about .002¢ each?" Just goes to show that Metal is recession proof. I'm going to buy a copy just to see if my little brother's high school band, Genocidal Fornicator, made the cut. Tea Bag also sent us the clip below:
It's important to practice safety first, at all times, people, which is why in all seriousness, I'd like to pass on this Safety Recall Notice from Salsa Cycles. Remember, It It Ain't Moto, It's Worthless.
Sometimes I wish more sponsored pros lived in my area, you know, so I could get a good deal on their hand-me-downs, and whatnot. Well DP, (who lives in Stevil's favorite cross hotbed, which is home to many a top pro) assures us that the season is getting in to full swing out in Colorado, and the deals are happenin', as evidenced by this and this.
COLDSPRINTS #2 takes place on Saturday at the Nomad World Pub in Minneapplenuts. Then Landon & Co. take the show on the road to Austin, TX on the 18th, along with Kansas City, MO on March 21. Nice work, lads.
This is the de facto St. Patrick's Day weekend, as March 17 isn't until next Tuesday. I wanted to tell you all about The Warlocks Liverdance 4, but Stevil beat me to it. So I'll just throw up their logo, cuz it's so damn rad.
Seriously, what makes riding bikes, drinking beer, and appropriated Danzig logos (w/gold fronts) so cool? I'm sure the topic's been hashed and rehashed here, ad nauseum, so let's move on to another event that Zito constantly brandishes, like a polish sausage. Yes, it's a few months down the line, but read on and beat the recession by registering early:
FTTM XXV Announces Recession Pricing!
No doubt you’ve been squirreling away your chump change so you can call your Japanese stockbroker and buy Sony at mid-‘80s prices. The Tokyo exchange has dropped to those levels. Can Wall Street be far away?
As we celebrate the 200th anniversary of the birth of the peerless Eddy Poe (his Mom liked to call him that) let’s reflect on these enduring lines: “All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” Dreams of 400 horses under the hood, the cigarette boat in the McKinley slip, the 6,000-square-foot tornado-bait home on a treeless Mequon house farm, all float off like a vapor in soft summer air.
So shred your Lehman Bros. certificates into confetti (old Wall Street Journals will make better wall paper in your tar paper shack anyway) and drag the trusty two-wheeler from the garage or from under the tarp, or wherever you’re living now, and start training for the 25th Annual Fat Tire Tour of Milwaukee on June 13th (a few runs to the local food shelf will do). From da Vinci’s vision to today, the bicycle faithfully wheels riders on sustainable dreams of a pleasant pedal down for a cold frothy one or perhaps a sparkling Spumanti in Leonardo’s case.
And if you send in your entry before April 1 you can get in for the Recession Special of $24..95! Consider it an investment. No joke.
As always, your subservient event concoctor,
Pee Oui
Have you been to Milwaukee? I mean besides the venerable COG, there is literally a bar on every corner. Madness, I tell you. Can you imagine if the FTTM coincided with St. Paddy's. Good Lord. Ok, I want everybody go out and ride your bikes and drink until you turn green this weekend. If you're down with Dirty Ron's then have a shamrock shake. Oh, and on Sunday, crack a 40 of St. Ides... All my lube, -Hurltron 5000
The nice thing about this region is we have several points during the year when the dirt is perfect. Tacky, but not muddy. Unfortunately the price we pay for the on again- off again bursts of nice weather is that the Poison Oak begins blooming with a vengeance.
Its a poetic balance of the Yin and the Yang.
Before Hurl gets in the kitchen and mucks about, I gotta lay a few things out.
A couple of weeks ago a young man named Payton rolled through the warehouse to speak with 6'7". It turns out that Payton is a student of his in a bike maintenance class he teaches at a local high school. Payton is also one of the driving forces behind an upcoming alleycat event here in the burgh of Cruz, De La Santa;
Alot of green blood promises to be spilled.
Also, C43 of the infamous Boise Warlocks sent me a shot that his lovely wife Erin recently took of my chandelier store in Paris. It's good to see that my plan to dominate all things sparkly, and hanging is coming along swimmingly.
Now if I can get those damn punks to stop putting stickers on my security gate I'll be set.
Lastly, in a transmission from The Irish Punk, he sent a shot that he took while out and about thrift storing;
"The boy thought you would like this";
Judging by the amount of condensation on the boy's glasses, he liked it pretty well too. Obviously a young man after my own heart.
Before I forget, I want to once again mention our photo contest. We've gotten a few submissions, not all of which are contained on our Flickr site due to a recent hectic work load, but until I've been sufficiently dazzled, I will not choose a winner, so keep 'em coming.
As far as photo contests go, mine kind of falls on the ass-end of things.
If you're super pro, and can't be bothered with attempts at winning a couple of dumb t-shirts, then maybe this one brought to you by Princeton Tec might be a little bit more up your alley.
Well folks- That's the long and the short of it. I've got plenty more on deck for next week, so sit back and see what Hurl's got up his sleeve for tomorrow. If by chance you find yourselves in or around the Bay Area this weekend, there is a good rock show on Saturday including two Bummer Life favorites, Who Rides The Tiger and the indescribably loud The Worship of Silence, the latter of whom will be officially releasing their new CD this weekend.
I've got an awesome backyard. It might be of interest for you to know that in this loop in particular, the red dots represent beer stops;
When playing around back there recently, I posed my bike next to a spot simply to prove the awesomeness of the following feat caught by Molly Cameron and found one day while perusing Flickr a couple of weeks ago.
First, the posed shot;
Now the clip of Barry Wicks proving that he's got the bill paying skills;
I like to think that it's all relative. At six feet tall, I have no problem riding up a ledge thats three. At thirteen feet tall, its obvious that Barry has no problem navigating one thats five, but really I know it's simply because Barry has the radness.
And me?
I most certainly do not.
Brendan from the Hartford, Connecticut clan is throwing down this weekend and emailed me with a request;
"Hello Stevil,
Many thanks for putting up the flyer for our race last November on HTABL. Despite the horrible rain, it was still pretty good. Now we're attempting to have a drier sequel!
Can you help us out again?
Thanks,
Brendan"
I do what I can, when I can. Especially for those who put Eels on their flyers.
Captain Dirtbag and his league of henchmen are also at at again out in Boise way in a couple of weeks, and if you know what is good for you, you'll be there;
Generally I tend to assume that I know what is good for me, but regardless of this fact, I don't think I'll be there.
Hopefully this doesn't mean that my end is immediately imminent.
If it does, then the following email from Brian offers me a place to rest in peace;
"Yo Stevil!
Being a long time admirer blah blah blah (hipster ellipsis), I saw this and said "Now Stevil's got something to get buried in!" (To bad no Danzig model).
Yeah, let's hope, but as we all know, we're never guaranteed a tomorrow, and to that end, I can think of worse places to end up.
Say, do you all like to read books?
I don't, but have recently been reading more than I ever have, and by 'recently' I mean over the last couple of years. Since we have a bit of a Oprah's Book Club kind of a vibe here, I thought I would list the last several books I've read, with a minimal review of each.
Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City: A Heavy Metal Odyssey in Rural North Dakota. First presented to me by Hurl, who in turn received it from Gramo, Klosterman's account of his introduction to heavy metal, and it's life changing magic is truly one of the better books I've ever read. I liked it so much that once I was finished with it, I sent the book to two very sassy sounding college radio disk jockeys who used to serenade me with their weekly 'Heavy Metal Wake Up Call' radio show.
Jim Goad's "Shit Magnet- One Man's Miraculous Ability to Absorb the World's Guilt".
The powerhouse behind the seminal cult classic series, ANSWER Me!, Jim lays it all on the line and describes his life, for what all intent and purposes was completely devoid of any form of bummer avoidance whatsoever.
Upon finishing the book, I did a painting of Jim and his estranged (and now deceased) wife Debbie in a passionate embrace, both with black eyes and battle scars as a result of their love.
Robert Graysmith's "Zodiac". As a young cartoonist employed at the San Francisco Chronicle during the rise of the Zodiac Killer's reign of terror, Graysmith embarked on what is arguably the most complete investigation of the series of crimes, which ultimately was turned into a movie that also kicked a ton of ass. If you haven't read the book or seen the movie, read the book first. The film is astonishingly accurate to the saga that Graysmith recounts.
Motley Crüe's "The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band". Regardless of the fact that the individuals that comprise Motley Crüe are possibly the biggest dirt bags on the planet, this independent journal entry style of writing captivated me with tales of debauchery and mayhem far beyond those of my very wildest dreams.
Joe Parkin's A Dog In a Hat. I've already blown too much sunshine up Joe's skirt about this book, so we'll just conclude this review with the fact that when a movie is finally made about the story, I think RuPaul should be cast in the lead role.
John Joseph's The Evolution of a Cro-Magnon. In this memoir by former vocalist of New York's hard-core phenomenon, The Cro-Mags, Joseph recounts every brutal detail of growing up in foster homes, selling beat acid at Madison Square Gardens, being homeless, going AWOL from the military for 15 years, beating hundreds of people up, being a bicycle messenger, becoming a Hare Krishna, touring with Motorhead, punching Dave Mustaine, being front and center with John Belushi at this historic FEAR performance;
as well as lifetime upon lifetime of other various memories and experiences. Despite never having been a huge fan of The Cro Mags, I was still looking quite forward to this book. It certainly had it's moments, and in varied aspects I developed a new found respect for this individual who has been to the bottom of the bottom and clawed his way back to health, happiness and success. I was talking to a couple friends who said that they had listened to him read it on CD, and enjoyed it much more throughly than I had, which made me think that the New York accent of my internal dialog was just not convincing enough.
The next book on deck is David Lee Roth's Crazy from The Heat. At this point, I haven't even held a copy of this in my hands, so I can't say much more about it than David graces the cover in a white scarf, while holding a lady above lovely blue water while his hairy chest looks on, which as far as I'm concerned is good enough for me.
So there you go. If you ever wondered where I get my knack for the written word, it's from reading books about rock music, sociopathic zine editors, and serial killers.
It's just that easy.
But in no way do I profess to have the descriptive prowess as my man here;
On this fine hump day, we will conclude with a transmission from the seriously broken keyboard of Max;
"HI there SteviL, and such, so perhaps it's just my own dumBAss fault, i of course was sending emails to a stevilswobo email that i may have made up; with all sorts of grand stuff from the SloWboken tour, my leisurely three month bike ride from seattle to brooklyn. 9.7.08-12.12.08 @ stomparillaz.blogspot of course.. and never got nothin on the bummerlife, i cried myself to sleep with my ipone on tour reading the bummer life while i avoided it. (didn't pay for lodging once across country and only got hassled twice!)
And now three months later, we're BLowIN' it up! at BrooklYn BIke and board(.com uuuh yeah we're having a wicked party on this coming thursday, march 12th, from 7-11 at the shop, 560 vanderbilt brklyn, between bergen and dean just north of prospect park. .
the party ends at 11 and we go ride bikes. .probably past everyones' bed time anyway. . AAnd we're planning on being the best bike shop in the universe in short order.. and we started a world champioN team, (b/c we have no rivals, we ride single speeds to the beach the long way, with boomboxes, and we're primarily the FastYFierce(.blogspot) LadieZ Squad & the BByB (Brooklyn Bike and Board) Tiny Pony Polo Squad, y vice verse etc etc.. .
So yeah I meant to send you a screen shot of my blog dashboard the other day when it said 666 posts of the SToMPARILLAZ BLOG and tell u yer old, but then i couldn't find the screen capture and maybe that was mean.. so i've attached photos.. i've got a lot going on, BrKlyn is just swell. as soon as i get this party kicked off right, i'll probably just take a nap or something.. go back to COlyRADo and breathe. . .
(Oh actually, P>S, my one friend in Colorado still thinks i'm coming back so he doesn't seem to be sending me anything, like my mountain bike which i haven't seen since napa, or my clothes) So I'm still wearing the sswc shirt you designed, pretty much like every day, luckily we have shop shirts with our logo, but anyway, it's real nice and you should be aware that t-shirt printing at this yearZ' SSWC DUHranGo will be very much DIY and we will have presses stencils and blowtorches galore, so bring shirts to work on in Durango, on my birfday! 9.18.81 whoohoooo! sswco9!
Aaanyway I gotta get up and go to work, hope all is well, thanks for hopefully posting our flyer and stuff.
peas b well, thanks Slappy &or MaX"
Everything Max stated in the beginning of that email was true. He did (and continues to) have an epic adventure, and made periodic attempts at contacting me. I have no excuses as to why those attempts didn't make it up here other than the simple fact that I have to pick and choose wisely as to what I post and what I don't. If something that someone thoughtfully sends falls by the wayside for even a week, it will get buried beneath hundreds of other emails, and then by the time I actually pull it from the pile, I have to decide if it's cohesive or relevant to that day's post. if it's not, it goes on the back burner again, further increasing it's chances at being lost, and I'm sorry to say that those emails suffered that exact fate.
I am happy that for the most part anyway, all has been forgiven, and we're back on the trolly, as it were, in regards to keeping the masses updated on all that King Slappy has to offer.
On that note, It is time to rip the chord, and float gently into the week's down slope. And as far as that goes, another point Max made in the comments recently is that not all people who gather here have the luxury of a standard Saturday/Sunday break from the hum-drums, as I tend to always declare.
For those specific indivuduals I offer this; Should I mention that I'd like for you to have a great weekend, I suppose what I am saying is that I hope you have good weekends, whenever during the week that they might occur.
And if you are one of the sorry few that has no weekend whatsoever, then might I suggest that perhaps a new job is in order, or better yet, begin playing the lottery with a fever.
An entire weekend has passed and allowed us to ruminate on Pinto's words.
I am blessed to have a handful of true word smiths in my life, Hurl being one of them, and Skinny Bee being another.
It's a gift, and a knack, and if you will, a down right gnack, but we are fortunate to have Hurl's skills here with us now.
I had planned on taking a short break from this day to day that we have with one another as over the course of the last week the bummer life whopped my ass so badly I could barely stand straight, but upon further consideration I realized that I have come to need this here reminder, and no matter how dark the clouds above my head may become, maintaining HTATBL can cut through those clouds like so many hot knifes through butter, and if the regular correspondences I get are any indication, I'm not alone in this, which fills my spiritual tank in ways not previously known.
The appropriate mantra? 'One foot in front of the other' and 'let's get the show on the road'.
The vicious dogs, no matter how fast they run can't bite you if you run faster, and ladies and gentlemen, I'm to the point where my feet are a blur.
Now then, in my lap I'm holding a near-bursting mail bag, so maybe we should get right down to business.
First up from Ty, a little something about the follicly gifted;
Subject: A dude who most definitely cuts his own hair
"..Was out on Friday at a sweet music venue.
Thought you would enjoy this guy's style. I know I did.
ty"
It's just a hunch, but I suspect if he were to cut a gap in that impeccably manicured chin strap, that whole pile would fall right off and land in somebody's drink.
Master wrench, Lincoln Sward from Chapel Hill's The Bicycle Chain is a man of few words, but obvious taste in this short and sweet submission;
The security guard instructors in India are mighty handsome! From today's NY Times.
I enjoy your blog immensely.
Kjell"
Heraldo is all "DO YOU HAVE GUM? ARE YOU CHEWING GUM? SO HELP ME GOD, IF YOU ARE CHEWING GUM THERE IS GOING TO BE HELL-TO-PAY!"
Then a skinny man in a blue shirt got the business end of his accentuation stick and a punch in the nose from the fist that most assuredly hides within the dark recesses of that upper lip mastery.
Also, thank you for the complement. You obviously have incredibly low standards.
The man behind the drool cup worthy Fyxomatosis then wrote;
Then, while we are on the topic of excruciatingly long bike rides, DPow! clued us in on the upcoming Hell of the South.
"stevil,
Not sure if it was passed onto you or not, but here is a pic of the latest conditions on the trail.
dpow"
Oh good god that's grim, but truth be told, when all is said and done, I doubt Mr. Elk will be the only carcass littering the course.
Now for a little something from the fixed side of the tracks, Colin writes;
Hey Stevil,
Just thought I would send a photo your way so you can see what's been goin' on in Hawaii.
I guess this is on behalf of Aloha Fixed.
Lindsey's a total badass.
Aloha,
Colin"
It's always been an undeniable truth that an individual on a pink bike is not one to be messed with. That is of course unless the one in question is Brian Vernor, in which case- Mess away.
As long as we're on the topic of tarck bikes, David from Fixtee(dot)com wrote us concerning the release of their newest offering.
"Hello,
I just would like to tell you that march´s t-shirt ("GT") is out.
I would be very happy if you could mention it on your site. Check out the t-shirt on the website and please let me know what you think. Now I won´t waste any more of your time. :)
Best Regards / David Johansson"
When the first shirt came out, I thought that David might be an unfortunate casualty (casual-tee. See? Word smithing is all over the walls) of the market, but it's good to see that he's keeping on keeping on as they say, and help the brotha out if you see something on his site that tickles your fancy.
You may have not looked out your window anytime in the last few minutes so you wouldn't be aware that the fixed gear bike is still enjoying tremendous popularity, despite all of the snarky public commentary. The truth is, the kids are still going bananas for the craze, and age is no qualifier for the appreciation as indicated by a recent email from Ghostship Matt;
"Stevil,
One of our mechanics worked on the smallest fixed gear I've ever seen today. Roll'n on 10" pneumatic tires ...24" cruiser-looking hbar steez.
Not to be outdone by the radness of this machine, notice our lead wrench photo-bombing me...hope all is well on your end of the world.
Ghostship Matt"
The only question that remains is do they even make slip-on Vans that small?
Secondly, that wasn't a photo bomb simply due to the fact that his junk is still in his pants.
Or it is as far as I can tell.
In more news from the industry underworld, Ben from Handsome Cycles sent in a super secret product shot of an item that they will be debuting at the upcoming Sea Otter Classic;
They will be good for applying in the process of stealing the Rock Racing truck, and then driving with recless abandon to a location where the skies aren't pissing and the sand storms are at bay, which is pretty much anywhere other than the Sea Otter.
As I dig around towards the bottom of the mail bag I find a submission from The Snake Hawk;
"Americer than everything. Take back the power any time you get. Take it all the way back. "
Just let that be a lesson to you. Blow up dolls may protect from being called mean names like 'turkey' after 'smoking some heavy doobies' but for a bit more complex weaponry, tend to make pretty crappy armor.
Lastly, at this stage in the game, if you weren't yourselves at last weekend's NAHBBABPAOVBRPSIIIWIRBIAO (Northern American Hand Built Bicycle And Bicycle Part And Other Various Bicycle Related Product Show In Indianapolis Indiana Which Is Right Between Illinois and Ohio), then you have read all of the reports and seen all of the pictures, but lucky for us, we too had a man on the inside who has provided us with a review from top to bottom in the fully exilerating style which you have come to expect here on The Bummer Life.
Big Rick of Hunter Cycles expounds;
"Hey Stevil Big Dealio,
I know you've been waiting for this so here goes....
This is my report on the 2009 Anal Retentive World Championships...Sometimes referred to as NAHMBS.... I'm sure everyone listening has seen enough over the top show bikes for a while so let me waste your time with my own biased and rigged awards ceremony...
1st place--- Nicest day to leave town on an airplane.
1st Place functional recycled art.
Runner up award in the 'Funky Time' category.
1st Place-- Good Use of Taxpayers Hard Earned Money--DownTown INDY.
1st Place--- War Monument...Tied with itself for 1st place in Not in California Anymore.
1st place--- Favorite Bike Shop Owners... Shinya and Butch from Circles cycle shop, Nagoya Japan.
1st Place---Nicest Guy Named Bob Who Works @ Bilenky.
1st Place---'Best Neighbor' Category...Mitzi and King Curtis.
1st Place----'I Wanna Get the Hell Out of Here' Category...
Well, there you go, you asked for it... Basically Squadra Bilenky stole the whole show in MANY ways...Long live sensible, practical, good humored bikes and people....
Good Night,
Rick"
You're gonna need a cold shower after that.
Hell.. We're ALL gonna need a cold shower after that.
Of course I can't go without displaying some of what Rick had to offer that all unto itself provided me with a whole recommended daily allowance of bike wood with his 'all day road bike'.
Bike wood does a body good.
Before I go I want to offer thanks to Maestro Sucka Pants for this week's header shot. He sent me a big fat folder full of jpegs so we can look forward to many more in the weeks to come.
What an honor to be hand-plucked by Stevil to share this woolen soap box, (and thank you for the sweet reach-around of an intro the other day.) To paraphrase the great Black Flag, "my name's Hurl, and I've got the 1 1/2. Not complainin'..." As some of you may know, and even fewer care, Steve & I began our sordid bromance long ago, via the time-honored tradition of being pen pals. Later, our physical paths crossed on the vaunted National Off-Road Bicycle Association (that's NORBA to the layman) tour, in our Lord's year of 1998. And while Steve & I aren't half-bad riders, we ourselves were never "Factory Team" material. We were more behind the scenes. But that's all changed now. Our paychecks are now dependent upon race results. Check out our "Ofitial Blog."
Now at the risk of being too Minneapplepuss-centric, I'm just gonna lay these next two on you.
Bring the hirsuteness, and be sure to say hello to Ray. If you see this guy head the other way. Quickly. Mary Gibney's Art Opening at One On One Studio, also on Saturday, is sure to bring out the beautiful people. Unless I decide to attend...
Many folks might argue that "the first major stage race of the sporting season" was last month's Stupor Bowl, but for those of a more stringent mindset, Sunday marks the beginning of the 67th running of Paris-Nice. And while that's all good and dandy, I spent a better part of 4 hours today chasing the "studio cyclist" (seen below) down pathways, losing town sprints, and slogging peanut butter trails until I bonked like nobody's business.
We made it back to the mothership where I promptly ate a roast beef/turkey sandwich, a sausage Hot-n-Ready, and a chunk of peasant bread slathered in peanut butter. And then I washed it all down with a tall cool, chelada...
Alright, I think I survived the 'first post jitters,' and even if I didn't the fridge is still stocked with some sweet Empyrean beer. (thanks, Lincoln!) It's late and I'm toast. Let's all peel back the top of a whiskey-soaked, bike ridin' weekend. I'll see you next Friday.
The one known as Bobo has written up a few words and then a few more words about his experiences at this past weekend's Grasshopper Adventure series event.
Grasshopper #1 Old Caz (2-28-09)
Bobo's Ride Report
Rain had been dumping all week prior to this year's Grasshopper Old Caz bike ride held February 28 and I was feeling very nervous on the drive to the start. Why should I be concerned? Well, let me tell you a few reason: 1) the "Hopper" series is widely recognized as where the cycling "elite" of Sonoma County show-up to throw down everything in hopes of securing major boasting rights; 2) the 48 miles on and off-road course includes a creek crossing that has been known to become a small river during storms like the one dumping rain during the past week, which lead the race officials to post the attached "river crossing" photo on their website;
3) there is approximately 4,600 feet of climbing, and 4) a few weeks back at the NorCal High School League Advanced Camp, during the coach introductions, Yuri proclaimed to the assembled junior racers that his goal for the season was to "crush Bobo at the Old Caz Hopper". When I heard this, I nearly wet my pants as many refer to me as "Bobo" and I knew then and there that I better get serious about what little time I had remaining before Old Caz.
Fast forward to the morning of the actual ride as Celeste (my wife) and I parked and exited the car. The first thing I saw was Yuri making eye contact with me as he threw down his gloves with a resulting slap as they hit the cold pavement. Thankfully, he proceeded to give me a big bear hug which temporarily reduced my stress because the next moment I turned to see a group of what could be called the Canadian Bike Mafia staging for a group photo;
Yes, that's Geoff Kabush, Max Plaxton, Kris Sneddon, Barry Wicks, and a few more local cycling Dons all getting ready to race with me! Not shown in the photo were the approximately 190 or so other
cyclists who were about to join in for the mass start ride which included the uber-cycling super-couple, reigning US National cross country champion Mary McConneloug and Mike Broderick as well as a long-list of extremely experienced riders.
Yikes. Time to get dressed and take a quick look over the awesome Ridley cross bike that I had been loaned from a good friend. I felt as ready as ever and before I know it the entire peloton was off and rolling down the Bohemian Highway out of Occidental towards Monte Rio and the pace was quick
but everyone stayed together during this neutral section. With such a large group, we owned the road and everyone stayed closely packed together until a quick "nature" break on the side of the road before turning onto Highway 116 and proceeding east towards Guerneville. (Editor's note- Everyone knows genuine professionals pee in their shorts.)
Knowing the route, I started to make my way towards the front as I believed it wise to be in the top 20 when the short, but very steep hill began. I saw Yuri just ahead and was feeling good that I was well situated, but then there was a LOUD boom and I saw Yuri deftly steer his steed to the side of the road as his wheel had exploded and the tire had come off the rim!
Tragedy had struck, but he was able to keep the bike under control and nobody went down which was incredible! I felt terrible for him, (Editor's note- I doubt that.) but was unable to think of anything but keeping my own ride upright as I had moved up and was now sitting in the top 10 and was directly behind Kabush while Wicks was next to me. All of a sudden, I felt as though I was in a tunnel as there were riders all around me and the distance between my bars and the other riders was minimal. The slightest mess-up here and you would be reading in Velonews about how a bunch of Olympians were injured during some silly ride in Sonoma... (Editor's note- It's reasons like that why I would renew my subscription.) I stayed focused and then there was the left turn across traffic and into the first hill.
While I hoped everyone would slow down, I was mistaken as the pace continued and, fortunately, there was no oncoming traffic while we dove across the double yellow line and hit the hill like a train. I was happy to let the leaders take off while I settled into managing my heart rate while trying to push over the smallest 38x27 gear on my bike, which I wished was smaller.
A bit of excitement where the road is closed and everyone had to either climb through or around a "gate" before continuing to climb, which was relentless and snaked through a small community inhabited by gnomes and Hobbits before finally coming out on Old Cazadero Ridge and then plummeting down to the river crossing. Happily, I had made it to the top and was feeling pretty good, but saw an old truck basically blocking the fireroad with its owner standing there with a shovel raised over his head and
screaming "Tell those bastards that I am going to crush their heads in!"
(Editor's note- This is what they call 'artistic license'.)
I did not stick around to argue, but proceeded to let the cross bike fly as safely as I could handle it down the hill. I was able to pass a few riders who were clearly stronger climbers, but were either inexperienced downhillers or had more sense about them as I was letting the bike fly and I found myself in that "zone" where everything becomes still as the body seems to shut down the unnecessary systems to allow extra energy where it is needed - the legs and lungs!
I heard a sound that was either the angry rancher's shotgun or a blown tire and was relieved to pass by a rider beginning to fix a flat and then there it was - the "creek" that was more of a "river" at this time. I quickly lifted my bike and ran into the water, which was surprisingly warmer than I had anticipated, but still came up to just over my knee. Out of the water and back on the bike to begin the grind up the dirt trail to the ridge above the hamlet of Cazadero. Upon rolling down into Cazadero, I found myself with a small group of approximately 8 fit looking riders who I convinced to work together on the upcoming long road section. We took turns eating up the rolling hills paralleling the creek on our way out to Highway 116.
The surprise is that our house is along the course in this section and while I offered a quick water stop to those that needed it, only 2 other riders took me up on the offer to stop at my "feed zone". While the three of us were happy for new bottles, we were quickly dropped and had to jump to work our way back up to a new group that passed while we were replacing our bottles.
I was happy to see that this group of approximately a dozen riders included Mary McConneloug as well as a few of the NorCal Velo Storm Troopers who are ALL business as they pushed to work their way back up to the front. Mary and I tried to get the group organized, but most of the riders are not interested in working like "road" riders and the efforts were wasted as most of the group fought one another for the front slot along the long road grind out to Willow Creek. With my fresh bottles, I took the chance to feed and rehydrate as I planned on burning the last of my matches once we hit the dirt again for the nearly 6 mile climb back up to Occidental. Our group started to splinter as Mary got in the front and pinned it along the bumpy lead-up to the gate which marks the beginning of the long climb to the finish.
With my legs starting to feel heavy and the fear of a cramp coming, I stayed focused on keeping Mary within sight and pedaling. This worked and we started to pick-up the speed and, amazingly, we started to pass those whose legs had failed them. While I spit-up (Editor's note- It's ok to say 'barf' here. We're among friends) a bit of energy gel, I was feeling re-invigorated to be hanging with the current national champion and stellar cyclist, but knew that my legs were on the verge of exploding! We had dropped all from our earlier group and unbelievably the dirt came to an end and we were back on pavement for the last bit to the finish.
Mary stepped on it and rode away from me, but I was happy to hammer along by myself as there were no other riders within sight behind me and a solo Storm Trooper a bit ahead of me which I tried to catch unsuccessfully before the finish along Coleman Valley Road. I was beyond relieved to see the finish and to watch as the very friendly timekeeper entered my name as the 28th overall finisher in a time of 2:55, just 23 minutes off the time set by some of the fastest mountain bikers in the world! (Editor's note- Bobo is the slowest of the fastest- or if you wish, the worst of the best.)
Epilogue:
1) Yuri came in as I was recovering at the car and explained that his tire blew off two times during the ride and that he had pushed as hard as possible to catch-up. He was a true champion for not quitting and for
keeping his cool even though the bike had failed him. (Editor's Note- To paraphrase Quincy Jones "I did my best, but I guess my best wasn't good enough.")
2) Celeste survived the river crossing and rode to a strong finish with a time of 3:21 (5th place woman)!
(Editor's note- Celeste has bigger balls than most men I know. Uh.. Figuratively speaking that is.)
3) Thanks to everyone who makes the Grasshopper happen as the rides and riders that participate are what make the events so fantastic!
"Ed, I'm telling you.. the Scaly-throated Foliage-gleaner's wing span is only about yea wide.."
Every now and again we've threatened the Bummer Life audience with an addition to the regular contributers which, let's face facts here, is pretty much just me. El Corpo throws his hat in the ring every once in a while and Machine Wilkins fell into a deep hole, or I can assume as much as we haven't heard from him an a coon's age. Between shots at the bar and working for The Man The Captain graces us with a periodic blurb about the inner workings of life, and then of course we have the mystery Australian who has been stuck in the starting blocks for over a year, but lastly we have Pinto, AKA Tommy Gunn, AKA Gurl, AKA Bloodclöt, AKA Hugapotato, AKA Hurl, AKA the guy who is passed out in his soup, AKA Thomas Jefferson Everstone who has recently gotten a refresher in the ways of Bummer Life X-Tremeness. As a whistle wetter for what he might have up his sleeve for us in the coming days he writes;
"Sounds like the Joe Parkin Ride was nothing short of a well-rinsed victory for all parties involved. Impressed with the Basil Hayden at the drink stop. Truly sorry I could not attend. But I did bust out the Merckx last Thursday for my first real "training" ride of the year. Just in time for a fresh 8" of snow, which made turning circles akin to churning oatmeal as I slogged down East River Road looking to connect with the Donut Queen, on a bit of sojourn herself, returning from a photo shoot at Macalester College. There was no fitness to be gained from this quagmire so we retreated back to OOBS with a 12-pack of reinforcements. What happened next is nothing out of the ordinary, standard operating procedure for a night in the box, as it were:
Short-timer Sammy posed for his going away portraiture. Of course, you may have seen this?
I free-locked the Merckx outside of Kelly Mac's crib and when I tried to leave in the morning I was greeted by this;
Do you like pink parts? Because One On One has got pink parts...
Sounds like we'll be seeing you in about a month?
It's been a long winter....
xoxo,
-Hugapotato"
Hurl is always at the ready with a quick and captivating word, a whisky filled shot glass to the nose and a face full of butter. I for one look forward with great anticipation for what he has in store.
And as far as the two of us seeing one another soon, that point is quite correct as in a month's time Minneapolis will once again be experiencing the roar of the third annual Art Crank poster show, of which this year I thankfully will be a part.
Should you find yourself within a stones throw/ day's drive, this event is not one to be missed.
Reports from previous years indicate that literally hundreds upon hundreds of people converge on the studio for one express purpose and that is to celebrate all things beerie, bikeie and posterie.
Like I'm fond of saying, be there, or be the shape that rhymes with 'there'.
And as long as were regurgitating reports from friends near and far, let's get into a recent email from George;
"hello friend,
long time, sorry. condensed version of a trip to the 24hrs of old pueblo.
We traveled to the great state of Arizona to take part in the 24 hours of Old Pueblo bicycle race in the desert and it was fucking awesome. the roadtrip was killer; dodging the troopers, skating at every gas station along the way, eating at the Moab Brewery, buying useless plastic crap at the reservation dollar store, pounding PBR all day, bowls to timewarp, desert camping, wind, more wind and cold nights, avoiding cactus, seeing Ryan Trebon with cactus in his shoulder on the first lap (thinking that was funny I promptly flatted - karma?), pain cave, patron, harp, drifting corners, getting passed by Dave Wiens (or some other Team Ergon dude) like I wasn't moving at 5am, camping next to the DC dudes, bananas being chased by a gorilla dude, 4 man is way harder than 5 man, double light set up (helmet & bar) is killer, having a 24hr mechanic on dope & beer makes riding easy, pbr per lap, support staff is incredible, new swobo wool rocks, wheelies/manuals, the drop section spectators, passing people at night, tubeless, pink yeti on loan from a friend, 1 broken camera, riding on dirt for the first time since november, when you want people to tell you what to do and they are there to do it is amazing (eat, sleep, eat, go), roadtrip home and be completely exhausted for a week. we didn't win so whatever, but we'll be back.
I've said it before and I'm sure at some point I'll say it again- George lives in a fairy tale.
Something else I've posed here before is that I would very much like to at some point do a 24 hours race, but with a 24 person team.
I'm accepting race resumes starting right now.
Only serious bike racers as well as those fabled 'professional one speeders' need apply.
Now then- I've got a full mail bag, and I'm ready to turn it over. First up from Scott;
"That's a nearly perfect 666 on Chloe's forehead in hair ringlets.
She walked out that night and said "Daddy... check my forehead: Swobo baby Swobo!". She knows what's up!
Outness-
Scott"
Never before has the number of the beast been so cute.
Jani wrote to us with an EBay listing, the description for which all unto itself is worth the price of admission;
This is a max wicked sick BMX. It's a Reliance Boomerang, and it's done heaps of max extreme BMX stunts. I have mostly done stunts on this bike since forever. Once I did a boom gnarly stunt trick on it and a girl got pregnant just by watching my extremeness to the maxxx. Some details about sickmax BMX; Comes with everything you see including; TOP AS SUSPENSION REAR FORKS!! 2 x wheels, 1 x seat, I will even throw my sick BMXing name for free- Wicked Styx. Has minor surface rust on handle bars and front forks (easily removed), more rust on rear forks (as shown in pics), Tyres hold air, but are pretty old. Basically it's an old BMX, but it's radness is still 100% in tact. Tricks I have done on this BMX:
Endos- 234, sick wheelies- 687, skids- 143,000, Bunny Hops- 2 (Bunny Hops are gay and my brother dared me to do them, which I did because I'm rad to the power of sick.) Flip Outs- 28. Basically, if you buy this bike you will instantly become a member to every club that was ever invented, world wide, because you will be awesome. Pick up from Richmond in Melbourne. Throw your hands in the air like you just don't mind.
I don't know about you all, but I'm sold. I don't care what it takes, but I have to have this bike.
Now from extreme sickness to something a little less so. The previously mentioned mystery Australian sent in shots of his new baby just to provide us with a little bit of Wednesday bike wood;
"Stevil- for the sheer sake of spoiling myself, check out the new wheels on my bike...
I build all the wheels for Edge Composites here in Oz, so I wrangled a set out of the distributor for myself. Tyres? Mad. 43mm Dugast tubs. Oh yeah.
7.5kg ready to race. 1/2 'cross bike, 1/2 29ér. Show me the way to the 2 hour fire road climb, and I'll see you at the top."
Good lord that man can put together a right tidy whip, can't he?
My man was making noise about coming to these United States for the next Homie Fall Fest and I told him that he might want to leave that bicycle at home, in bed, otherwise it stands a good chance of never being the same again.
Before we part ways, I need to notify any interested parties about some hijinx taking place up there in Seattle;
Between your Starbucks and your grunge parties, take a trip by Bike Bloc for the skinny.
But maybe you are one of those types who like your alley cat races with a little more Bellingham in them.. If that is indeed the case, well then here is an email and a flyer for you from The Viking;
"sup, yo? Couldja, wouldja post this flyer on your ever so dreamy blog? Its for anybody who has had a birthday. Ever. We have some great prizes including a Traitor frame and fork for all forms of hipsterness, Surly jerseys and socks, Cap'n Dave is rumored to be sending Evil paraphernalia (probably used), Cheever is putting up tires, tubes and whatnot from his fly by night outfit, and a host of other supa tight swag.
We are having a band and libations to follow as well.
More info is here.
I cant figer out how to send the jpg so hopefully a png file will work. I aint no rocket scientist when it comes to this here computer.
Thanks in advance. Get back up north.
-The Viking."
On that note, as they say- 'when all is said and done, there wont be much left to do or say'.
It's Wednesday today and we all have a slippery slope to the business end of the week. Keep your arms inside the vehicle and hold on tight because Friday's gonna be here in a jiffy, and we're all headed there at break-neck speeds.
The title for this post was going to be that one saying about 'the best laid plans' but I can't remember how it goes.
I'm tired, marginally inspired, and fully Fred Dyered.
Get a load of that poor sap on the left.
"Yeah, I couldn't believe it. Fred Dryer was at the celebrity golf tournament after party, and I totally got a photo with him."
An hour later Fred was all, "hey jack, hold my coat while I get suffocated under some nudity."
Another weekend has come and gone, and I'm road weary because of it.
Right out of the gate I will once again repost a little something I put up on GWCTOH Friday morning.
I'm doing this not only because I am completely out of gas, but because I would like to further spread the word of the movie in question;
“I see” said the blind man as he reached for his hammer and saw…
It has been brought to my attention this morning by a commenter that I might should review the previously mentioned film Six Day Bicycle Race- America's Jazz Age Sport before actually watching it.
I liked that idea, however I tore open the envelope yesterday and pulled out all of the goodness post-haste and immediately attempted to insert the book into my DVD player.
Upon realizing my folly, I retraced my steps and then dropped to do 20 push ups as a penance for my stupidity.
Finally, with the shiny silver disk placed right side down in the machine, I pushed the play button and sat back with my box of Jujubes cracked and at the ready. The movie has never before seen footage and actual interviews with the individuals who were there and experienced it all first hand. It contains astounding tale after astounding tale of the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat as these pioneers entranced the American public with their feats of strength and physical fortitude.
Eventually I got sleepy and paused the film so I could continue it later with a fresh eye, but I can say without reservation that anyone who has ever thrown a leg over a track bike, or better yet, knows the dizzying sensation of turning left in a pursuit of triumph should absolutely procure of copy of this themselves to bare witness to the originators of the craft.
As one who enjoys the abuse of substances, I was taken with the stories of performance enhancing supplements such as a blend of Cognack, sugar water and Ether to aid in the participant's quest for domination. As a matter of fact, just so I could fully enjoy the experience of the film, I mixed up that very concoction for myself, but before long got distracted and found myself in the corner of my living room attempting to gnaw through a garbage can lid.
At any rate, I whole heartedly recommend any and all lovers of the two wheels and the fixed cog to get this movie if for no other reason than to see first hand where they came from."
So there you have it- In a simple array of words I've given you one more thing to spend some of your tax return on, while at the same time displaying my near prowess as a movie reviewer.
That is what we in the business call killing birds with as few stones as possible.
It really is an incredible story however, and is absolutely dumbfounding to think that names like Babe Ruth and Gene Tunney have gone down in the annals of sports history, while names like the Walthours, Alf Goullet or most especially, Major Taylor have not.
As cyclists, I feel as though it's almost exclusively up to us to continue to propagate the legacy, and to try and help ensure that these names echo through the halls of history as some of the greatest athletes of all times, and I want to extend a genuine thanks to the individuals behind this film for chronicling such a complete account, which serves just that purpose.
Do you remember that scene in 'Old School' when Will Ferrell goes into a trance and wins the debate?
I kind of feel like that right now.
How about we break away from all of this seriousness and talk about David Lee Roth?
"The characters kinda follow this story-line (unfortunately it seems like the MTV site is the only place to watch them. At least they're pretty good quality). I have traveled many leagues in the digital realms, and simply cannot find a downloadable "Goin' Crazy" with the intro, the most important part, intact. However, I am far from bested in my quest, and WILL secure satisfaction in the days to come. Until then, in case it's been a while:
In my humble opinion, the intro to Yankee Rose is where the sun rises and sets.
"Gimee a bottle of anything... And a glazed donut... To go!"
Indeed, DLR. Indeed.
And in light of Diamond Dave's majesty, all that really needs to be presented is this;
Friend of Swobo, Tim The Masi Guy recently did 6'7" the ultimate solid and swung him a deal on a super special gigantic guy road frame set, in our favorite of all colors 'statutory grape';
The next time you get creamed on a climb by a man on a candy colored whip whose head is in the clouds, that might just be the tall one serving you some street justice.
Now for a brief recap of the weekend. I had big plans, as the Noise Pop festival went down in San Francisco, but unfortunately for me, the wheels of the entire two day break fell off right around here;
Falling out of the bar, I wanted to get back to home base as I had big plans to get out on the bike the following morning so into the darkness I vanished, eventually crashing into my sofa at a million miles an hour.
Waking up the following morning with eyes and mouth glued firmly shut, I peeked out the window and saw water falling from the sky, so with booze helmet in place and for the second Sunday in a row, I adjourned into the grey wetness of the outdoors.
Head down and fists clinched around my bars I was exactly midway into my ride when my rear tube exploded. For fifteen minutes I inspected the tire as the rain continued to fall, coming up with no conclusive answer for why I flatted. Eventually with a new tube inflated I was finally able to find the reason behind my unplanned break;
I booted the tire up with a GU shot pouch, and limped back, defeated to the dry confines of HQ.
Realizing Sunday evening that I was rode hard and hung out wet, I stood no chance of making the show, or more over driving back home early Monday morning, so I threw in the towel.
As with any weekend, wether it's the most epicly fun, and everything goes according to plan, or the kind where you let go of the reins and allow what happens to do just that, which in itself can make for the most profound kind of bummer life avoidance, or in my case, a perfect mixture of both, it really is what makes the other five days of the week tolerable.
I can only hope that all of you had the same luck.
I of course can't go without mentioning this past weekend's Handbuilt show in Indianapolis. Obviously I wasn't there, so I'm unable to provide you with a half assed report in my own superlative style of writing, but ifin you'd like to take a peek at what is arguably the best coverage available, then take a trip by Urban Velo.
I have to now pinch this one off, but before I go, I would like to offer thanks for the use of Jason's sharp eye on this week's header shot. If you would like to see more of what he's got cooking, and I suggest you do, take a trip through his Flickr page.
Alright ladies and gents, get to work and set the timer. Our next two days of freedom are just around the corner.
From L-R: B-Rad, Barista to the (rock)stars, courier for life, all-pro angler. Zitox, Yeah, Guy! MILWAUKEE! The German, 
