Back in my college days I had a roommate that had a lot of IF bikes. All steel, all campy, and all with custom paint jobs. We didn’t dare touch them or even think about riding them. But this roommate also liked Guinness beer, a whole heck of a lot. Whenever he would get all tanked on that creamy black gold I would ask him if I could take one of his bikes for a ride in the morning. Oddly enough, he would always say yes.
He was a hell of a guy when he was drunk.
This video brings me back to those days
…and maybe this one too
I had me a busy weekend here in Fort Collins, full of bike rides and going away parties. With my advisor’s blessing I left school early on Friday to get my shit together and meet the CSU Cycling gang for a mountain bike ride. The weather was perfect and spirits were high as we began the climb up Maxwell. Halfway up the climb I heard a “ping”, and felt my chain drop off. Further inspection revealed that I had lost a chain ring bolt, and my front sprocket was slightly bent. Walking down the trail and trying to figure out how long it would take me to walk to the nearest bike shop to get my bike fixed, I remember that one of Fort Collin’s local pros lived pretty close to the trailhead. I gave Jeff a call, he told me to stop on by so that my drivetrain could be fixed.
Getting my drivetrain back to working order
After finding the right pieces, and using some good old fashioned elbow grease, my drivetrain was back to working. Even though there was some daylight still left I decided to cut my losses, head home, and get ready for a night out on the town to celebrate a fellow graduate student’s moving out of town to start a new job. Needless to say the night was nothing short of great, defined by smiles, laughs, and the telling of stories we have already told one too many times.
Obligatory group shot
Group stop
Saturday brought another day for mountain biking and a going away party, only this time the activities were combined. After several years of great service, Fort Collin’s City Bicycle Coordinator, known as “DK” by almost all, has decided to take a job as the bicycle coordinator for the city of Davis. A group of about 12 met late in the morning and we made out way to Michaud for some hot laps. Once again the weather was exceptionally great for January, and we spent the next two hours enjoying the trail, passing a flask around, and each others’ company. At about 2 pm, what was left of the group made our way to Bar SS in Laporte, CO, where pints of beer were tipped back in honor of DK. As expected it was a great day both on the trail and at the bar, shared amongst good folks.
One of the best places to finish a bike ride
Around this time every year, myself and a couple friends hop in the truck and take a winter road trip. We leave the comfort of the 70 degree desert singletrack and head north to the Four Corners area to do play in the cold. We usually leave the bikes at home for this one, but this year I convinced everybody to throw them in the rack “just in case”. It was a completely selfish act because I really just wanted to ride my Mukluk in the snow.
E and I left town on a Friday afternoon and pointed it north. We had to make one stop in Flagstaff to pick up our buddy Maximum and then we would be on our way to Durango. When we arrived at Maximum’s house he greeted up with some cold beers and said: “I think I have a better plan. We could just hang out here and party tonight, then leave in the morning” Seemed logical enough. Game on.
I awoke Saturday morning to a hangover that felt like somebody stabbing me in the head with a little tiny knife. At least we were all in the same boat, misery loves company. The truck got loaded, hair of the dog was consumed, and so commenced our 5 hour zombie death march through the northeast corner of Arizona. It was a glorious day with not a single cloud in the sky. So when we hit Cortez, CO we decided that riding Phil’s World was a much better idea than going climbing that day. We made the right choice. The trails were sweet and it was just the medicine we needed to get over our brown bottle flu.
dry trails and big views
We moved on to Durango for a couple days for a little popsicle climbing. It looked like this:
After i had my fill of climbing I left my friends to chop ice and snuck off for a little fatbike ride. It was an interesting transition hiking out of this canyon, switching shoes and grabbing my bike. I pedaled up a random road into the hills, that quickly turned to a 2 track, then finally I reached a gate where there was nothing but a little skin trail up into the hills. I rode for hours on top of that snow, grinning like a complete idiot.
No motor, no problem.
The next couple days found us in Moab and me being struck down with a horrible cold. As I slept the morning away, the rest of the crew went and did some classic rides. They came back pretty fired up just as I was starting my day.Then it started snowing. I decided that this day was a loss and I might as well have a couple beers to pass the time until tomorrow. As we were walking to the truck to get the cooler full of fine beers we had the very calm conversation about the weather:
Dirty: “I wonder what Porcupine Rim looks like in the snow”
E: “Well, we do have bikes and a truck to get us to the top”
Dirty: “We better go check that out.”
E: “Yup”
And just like that, we were on our way up the hill at 2pm in a snow storm. This seemed like a really great bad idea.
Continue reading “Tuesdays with Dirty: Winter Mix”
Bikes get sick sometimes, too...seen in downtown Colorado Springs
I take photos, yo.
This made my weekend seeing this sticker in Tony Pereira shop
Lately, I’ve been in a damn good mood but still finding myself flying off the handle at the dumbest shit. One thing I’ve noticed on this blog forum thingy is when I post a stupid ass drunk rant, most of the negative isn’t that bad and those bad comments are way more lame then the post itself. Kind of funny how that works out; get someone pissed and they make a bigger ass of themselves trying to prove a point. I had a friend tell me a few weeks ago that there is nothing funnier then seeing people get super pissed at the big boy toys (big girl toys too) that all of us worship. It could be bikes, snowboards, golf shit or whatever you have time for in your free time. They really are just toys and are damn fun if you are really into them. If you can somehow make a living around that toy, that’s the shit. I enjoy being around folks that make a living doing what they love. The energy they put off is priceless and I always go home feeling recharged.
This last weekend I went to Portland to pick my Subaru up and while I was on my drive down through a complete shit snow storm, Dirty starts texting me while I am driving on ice doing 80 mph in a Highlander telling me about this Tony guy that’s a frame builder in Portland, I try to respond while driving with my knee saying “yes, i’ll get hold of him”. Dirty sent me the contact info and I realize this is a no bullshit Tony, it’s Tony Pereira one of the best frame builders in Portland, that’s at least what i’ve heard. If you have ever heard of the Oregon Manifest, he’s a big contender there with his bike creations. So last Sunday I went to his frame shop (his garage) to see what he’s all about and I’ll have to say he’s a very cool guy. Tony’s smile is genuine and his bikes are complete works of art. I think that balance of being a true craftsman, getting the projects and then feeling very fortunate with the projects you are handed is the key to keeping the creative / innovative ball rolling- Tony I believe is doing it. I walked away from his shop totally recharged, thanks Tony.
I snapped some shots while he was chatting with me and my little bro, Cave Jr. (Cave Jr. is better composed then I).
he's a pretty mellow cat
He’s not only a frame builder, the guy actually races the bikes he makes- he’s got some race numbers posted up on his wall in his shop and they looked pretty recent.
Those are some race numbers blessing his shop
His bike racks he’s building and making them be part of the bike’s overall design is something that I really liked seeing on his bikes.
Tony showing off his rack
I had to pull out his long time commuter bike to take a shot of his stem he had on it. A place for the bell and for his front rack to hook up to- pretty cool detail.
ring dat bell and holding my shit
Now, check out this sticker collection.
tony is a drunkcyclist
I’ll have much more to say about Tony soon but until then drink a fucking beer and storm some trails with nastiness.
I love IPA's and I love hopworks
Spontaneity keeps us young. So does #occupybikeseat and Levitra. Friday night two options were presented; to head down to Lake Geneva for the Team SnowBike Enduro or stay in Madison for the Isthmus Beer and Cheese Fest. Both very beautiful options, and I found myself in a hell of a quandary trying to pick which one to go to. I turned to the Infobahn for the answer. One of the more spontaneous fellas I know, our very own Dirty reminded me that there is no real shortage of beer and cheese in Wisconsin and I could have my own festival any time I want. With that wisdom, combined with the heat of Baby Cakes, I scrambled to gather the essentials and be out the door stat.
Packed up the Necromancer, a case of Lebatt, couple dozen cupcakes and my super soaker. Cupcake was en route to Funtropolis.
Some people race bikes. Some people ride bikes. Some people fast bikes, and other people slow bikes. Some people shave. Some people don’t. Some people drink megaplexcarbrotein. And other people drink beer. Et cetera, et cetera. The devils at this shitshow were all the latter and Cupcake was mega-stoked.
Upon arrival I hear calls for Cupcake. Loud calls. Bird calls. Tweet tweet tweet BEEKAW!!! Ears sprung and mouth watering, I made my way to the gregarious tipi occupied by North Central Cyclery and BG from QBP. Every time I see these fools it’s going down. Bourbon, stouts, strong ales, maple syrup and cakes. We partied.
It was my first Wisconsin Fat Bike Series rodeo of the season. Officially race #2 of #6 this winter and hope to make the rest of ‘em. Hey, any ride biking race-trot thing where #occupiers of bike seat let me blast them in the face with beer loaded super soaker, you best know Cupcake’ll be there.
Without further adieu, the shots of the weekend. Thanks to Baby Cakes and Greg Smith with fat-bike.com.
Nothing like some fatty foot-down to assemble the squads.
Come a little closer to me baby!
This is John. John was our team captain. John is a soft-spoken and modest Wisconsin boy. John made everyone look like a bitch today. HOT LAP! HOT LAP!
In traditional Wisconsin fatty fashion, the race commenced after naked men zip-lined over our heads.
Award winning beers brought to you by Lakefront Brewery.
Carb The Fuck Up
Toast
I was third position on our race team, which was good because it gave me time to prepare the weaponry.
When I bought this gun 10 years ago, I always knew this was how it would be used.
BEEEEEER HERE!!!!
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Getting Bleüüü'ed
Peloton?
It was five hours of pure enjoyment. The venue, the people, the beer, the snacks, the sponsors. It was some great, top notch shit.
When the race ends in a tie, you leg wrestle while everyone stands around and drinks. I love this sport.
In other news, I found a new hero…
but it still makes me giggle.
Happy sunday, brothers and sisters. If the weather allows, get a ride in. If not have a laugh, drink a beer and get ready for the next one.
—bp.
In the never ending search to find Snakehawk’s Daddy I stumbled across this gentleman. I think he might just be the man we have been looking for
“I take all responsibility for my own reactions”
Ray is my new hero.
*This message brought to you by the boys over at the Nashville Bicycle Lounge. They put some great stuff over on their facebook that helps me get through the worst of times…like working on a Saturday.
Hope the weekend is treating ya right. Go get some!
Here’s to Friday and here’s to beer,
#occupybikeseat and have no fear.
"I'm good..."
This video makes me smile and cringe (Sminge?) all at the same time.
*poached from hellingham.
A few months ago I posted some pictures from the 35th anniversary of Repack and this week we received a little helmet cam footage from that day. There is no editing and no music…but you get a great feel of the ride for about the first 7 minutes or so.
And this one is just plain good.
Well, it’s January, which means it’s time for my yearly existential crisis.
This existential crisis means I recently applied for a job in a bike shop. Looks like I’m going to get it, too. I won’t whine about it, I promise, but I want you all to know that I am doing this under duress. Unlike millions of other unemployed Americans, I do not qualify for unemployment benefits. Go figure.
Working in a shop is not and never has been the worst thing in the world. I’ve met a good lot of my friends through shops…would not have gotten the chance to write for Drunkcyclist had I not been a wrench at AZ Bikes when Big Jonny wandered in one day sometime around three in the afternoon. We started drinking beers right then…the shop closed sometime around 7, I think. I can’t remember, really. I was drunk by then. Don’t worry: I’m actually a better wrench when I’m not sober. A year or two later, Gnome asked me if I’d write for this website, since I had the best qualifications you can have: I was both a cyclist and a drunkard. I said hell yes. Now I’m your problem.
Anyway, my point is I can think of worse things to do than turn a wrench. When I was teaching high school English, my hands got soft. I gained twenty pounds. I never had grease ground into my calluses anymore because my calluses were gone. I went into the bike shop (AZ Bikes, Flag Bike Revolution…ya know, the usual suspects) and got nostalgic about it, listening to Tool while I trued yet another cheap steel wheel or fought with the innards of another Manitou fork.
The best time, by the way, to be in any bike shop worth its salt is around six or seven, as long as you have beers in your hands. That’s the key: beers and a good attitude. Closing time is usually around that time. Just relax and stay out of the way as the mechanics and salespeople take care of those last few customers. Hide the beers and stay chill. Once that door is closed, you’ll make a lot of friends because anyone who was worked in a shop knows how badly a beer is needed when your hands are sore from pulling on cables and turning spoke wrenches. The first beers should always go to the mechanics. Give ‘em that much and they’ll give a lot back.
The title of this post is taken from a great move called “A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints.” Toward the beginning of the movie, the main character introduces himself and says, “I’m Dito and I’m going to leave everyone in this movie.” I feel like I do that all the time with bike shops. There I am, and there I go. But then I’m back again, always changed, always different (In the movie, the character starts out as Shia Labeouf and ends up as Robert Downey, Jr…a good upgrade, if you ask me. I’m not usually that fortunate).
Weird thing, though: every time I come back, the shops are always still there. I bring a beer and say to the mechanics, “first ones are for you.” Next thing I know, I’m on the receiving end of those beers because I’m wrenching again. Is it so bad? No, not really. It’s not what I expected from my life, but it’s just not bad at all. Sometimes even these wander in:
Kathleen on the Toilet Express. ©2012 D2 Photography
I’ve been thinking for the last eight years about opening my own shop.
Maybe it’s time. Who knows. Sometimes it’s hard to recognize a good mechanic…even if that mechanic is yourself.
There comes the time in all of our lives when we need to make the decision: to #occupybikeseat or not. Being a reader of this site, you’d think it’s an easy question right? WRONG! There is a bitch in all of us and today I feel like slappin’ a bitch and setting things right.
This time of year, at least for the hairy beasts here in Radison, the temperature has officially dropped to short-dick degrees Fahrenheit. As a side note, Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit was the man behind the measurement. He was part German and if you follow that link on Wednesday, January 18th, the page will be blacked out to protest SOPA. I will also protest SOPA because it’ll most likely affect this website. Cupcake likes the way things are around here and doesn’t want them to change. If you’re anything like him, less government is more better and you’ll call your senator and tell him SOPA is a shitbox and you want to light it on fire.
Anyways, back to the point. This time of year, it’s a hard for us to throw that big drunk leg over that big dumb bike. Maybe because our sticks become twigs or because our tires don’t work on ice rinks. Maybe because we shiver like roadies or because we are hung over (which is fine BTW). Well, Dr. Cupcake is here to tell you that everything will be fine. He is prescribing you a hefty dose of Betty Crocker the Fuck Up and to ride that bike of yours even if it’s six less than zero.
I’ve been riding this fat bitch to work every day for three reasons:
Pack it in, pack it out.
1. You can #occupybeer while you #occupybikeseat and not get hosed.
2. The willies at work think it’s rad.
3. My beard turns into an ice sculpture.
No matter the weather no matter the route, #occupybikeseat or get left out.
