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?

God knows DP likes to 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:

#1

#2

#3

#4, and one of the best...

And for good measure, and take a knee:

#5

-DP"

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.