Fireside Chat with Hurl Everstone

Well. Piss-boring, shit-tired winter. Not anymore. It’s time to talk with one of cycling’s founding fathers, Hurl Everstone. If you read this site frequently and don’t know who Hurl Everstone is, maybe you need to read some other sites. Fuh Real.

Let’s Start with this:

pic1_motivator

Everstone is major. He started Cars’R'Coffins as a zine, and it later progressed to a sock. Let’s find out a little bit more about this tall legend of cyclesport. Warm your feet, sip the sauce, and sit with us as we chat about manything, anything, and nothing.

Hey Hurl.  How has the good life been treating you as of late?

 

I don’t know much about the good life, but there’s a litany of High Life cans littering the garage these days. Yesterday was -18° w/a windchill of -666; coldest day in over 5 years.

You were around, and i would say an integral part of a bunch of this cycling subculture stuff like the messenger-rad-punk-bikers-coping-with-urban-gentrification league, and the riding-bikes-because-it’s-actually-fun-and-that’s-all set.  That’s some foreign turf for a handful of DC readers, so maybe you could explain exactly how it is you manage to keep from gunning for the striped jersey every time you throw your leg over a ride.

It’s been two wheels or none at all for as long as I can remember. Growing up I was the quintessential Bmxican up there in Bismarck, ND. When my peers starting getting their D.L.’s in high school and driving everywhere, I kept on riding the “young boys bike,” as the guitarist for Swervedriver once said to me outside the 400 Bar. I used my graduation money to buy a Univega Alpina Uno MTB from Dakota Cyclery. Since then, I’ve raced mountain, road, cross, and certain other, uh, “events.” But gunning for the striped jersey is something I haven’t ever been motivated to do. Unless you mean the prison stripes; I’m not motivated on going to prison much, neither…

That's not Hurl.  You can't see him, because he's taking the picture.  Very crucial to the history of early extreme sports documentation.

That's not Hurl. You can't see him, because he's taking the picture. Very crucial to the history of early extreme sports documentation.

That’s a sweet story.  When I was in high school, I had my senior pictures taken with my Bianchi road bike that I bought with paper route money.   I only did that because I didn’t have a mini-truck to have my picture taken with.  

Fuck yes, mini-trucks rule! I had such a hard-on for Toyota 4×4′s in high school. I actually bought one my senior year during the Thanksgiving break. By the end of the weekend, my Dad had convinced me that I wouldn’t be able to afford the payments and had me return it on Monday morning. Such a downer. Thanks, Dad!

I know that as the election results rolled in, we both wept.  Who do you see coming correct for the U.S. of A in 2010?

I did weep a little bit on election eve; that shit was monumental and felt like a good swift kick in the ass to the current administration. But do you mean coming correct in 2010, or 2012? In 2010 it’s going to be Stevil Kinevil. Motherfucker’s on a tear. 2012? Probably some upstart coaster brake rider you’ve never heard of.

What about Chorizo Grande, aka Jon von KnockWurst, aka Big Softie, aka Mountain Ham, aka the original DrunkCyclist?  That dude’s gonna be a lawyer in not too long, has no tattoos, and was always such a puss that he never racked up any mischief charges.  That could lead to some serious political contention.  Well, aside from the whole “porn site” thing.

Yes, the OG Drunk Cyclist cum Attorney at Law would be a shoe in. If not for this aforementioned “porn site” thing. And his card-carrying status as a member of NAMBLA…
 
Totally. Next subject: Cars R Coffins was a really refreshing and inspiring notion to me when it reared its head.  Were you inspired, enabled, or both, when it came to bringing that to fruition?

Cars-R-Coffins was inspired by me wanting to do a ‘zine, combining cycling, punk rock, and writing. The “brand” for lack of a better term, was helped along immensely by the fucking tshirt. A lot of folks were enablers back then and still are: Geno @ StrongArm Marketing, Jason Stukel of Juke Design, Steamer Stelton (Fryburg!), Sky Yaeger, circa Bianchi B.o.S.S. Probably some others I’m forgetting. Sorry, others.

If you pretend that Hurl were in a car in this picture, you'd see frat boy pinstripes to the left of his head because he'd be puking out that window.  I have no idea what all those little papers are.

If you pretend that Hurl were in a car in this picture, you'd see frat boy pinstripes to the left of his head because he'd be puking out that window. I have no idea what all those little papers are.

I think that could have been bigger than OBEY, if you’d have had some fresh graphics.  That little coffin with bar-napkin wheels got tired.  How do you feel about the fact that you’re not sitting on millions and selling really thin, pre-worn t-shirts at Nordstrom’s and Macy’s?

Yeah, CRC coulda been a contenda’… and the original logo was drawn on a bar napkin! I still have it. But how do you know I’m not sittin’ on millions? I will say that those real thin, pre-worn numbers look good, especially if you front a muffin-top. I wore one at ‘Vegas this year. 

So you are saying you were “fronting” a muffin top?  That’s a couple of things:  it’s totally heterosexy, and it’s so much better than sporting a pie crust.  Keep it tight and to the curb, amigo.  Medical progress is slower than the academics would have us believe. 

Well, not exactly. I was riding the wave of a pretty fit summer, believe it or not, and I even fit into my old faded 501′s, natch. Don’t say that image doesn’t give you a boner…. Hey, what’s a pie crust?

I don’t personally know what a pie crust is, but from what the Husky Midget was telling me upon his return from a trip to the beaches of Rocky Point, Mexico, I’m not sure either of us would wanna experience that shit. So, you did some work with Surly for a while, then seemed to have bailed.  Did you get fired?  Was it too hot in the kitchen?  I would have never made it in an environment like that, so it’s okay.  I just wonder.

Surly. Uh, I could say a lot. Surly rules. And Surly exists because of the great efforts of a lot of great people, Wakeman Massie first and foremost. But Surly is also owned by bicycle parts monolith, QBP. At the time of Surly’s inception, I was also employed by the QBP Marketing Dept. I wrote copy for various in-house brands, for their giant catalog, etc. As Surly picked up momentum, I became the de facto frontman for the Surly Brand. (Wakeman played drums/tambourine/Hammond organ, and the venerable Dave Gray played (and still plays) upright Flying V bass.) Ultimately, things got rather hectic. In the fall of 2001, just after Interbike, I went to the 24 Hours of Moab without getting “authorized time off during Q catalog season.” I raced in a skirt for Team Tackle Box, drank Jack Daniels at the start of every lap, and we were camped next to Team Vagina. Surly got a lot of, uh, “exposure” at the venue. Not long after my return, I purportedly missed a copy deadline for the Q catalog, and I was, uh, encouraged to resign, is the legal parlance, I believe. Since then, Surly has grown like a festering pustule on, above, and just below the cycling industry surface. I look back fondly on those days,. The first time we showed up at Pedrosfest with a fixed gear Surly Steamroller, nearly everyone was like, “what the hell are you going to do with that?” and, of course, Surly has been, and continues to be at the forefront of urban bike culture, natch. If Surly had been a truly independent entity, I like to think I’d still be working for them, but, alas, you can’t spell square without the “Q.” That’s how I remember it, anyway.

Hurl has no hang-ups or insecurities.  He knows full well that the driver of this orange rig uses a thimble in his jockstrap.  Surly represent.

Hurl has no hang-ups or insecurities. He knows full well that the driver of this orange rig uses a thimble in his jockstrap. Surly represent.

Your story about Surly reminds me of something. Growing up, I was never really that great at anything I did.  I could never really apply myself, and I always was more concerned with the uniform than the sport.  In my first crit race, I was a nervous wreck.  I got so pissed at my mom hounding me for a photo that I fucking tripped on my whip and bent the derailleur into the spokes when i fell on it.  I had otoborrow a friend’s bike to race.  In the first turn, I got pinched up onto the curb on the inside, rode through some grass to get back on course and spent the rest of the race on the innermost parts of his Scott Drop-In bars just trying to look aero and kissing the pelican goodbye.  I was never really destined to be a winner.  I spent lots of nights crying myself to sleep, dreaming of upper middle management, and fawning over the gadgets in Sharper Image catalogs. Have you ever raced a crit? 

You know, Hawk, the reason you’re not a winner is that you refer to a bike as a “whip.” I mean, come on; what the fuck is that, other than some preposterous appropriation of hip-hop culture, guys wearing girls jeans, and “rocking” 650′s on a road platform? Whips are for the bedroom. And you know what? Crit shares two letters with the word cunt. That’s all I’ll say about that….

I see.  You don’t like c__t.  Well, this is the 90′s bro.  If bee-jays in the White House can pass, then I guess you can pick your stick.  You go, girl. 

Did you say “Crit?” Oh, I thought you said “clit.” I love racing the motor boat, as it were…

But either way, you don’t like the she-she parts? I mean, it’s not a big deal, but it does remind me of another story. Once, while on a camping/biking trip with Big Jonny in Flagstaff, I watched him scarf down a few handfuls of sausage biscuits, only to give them back to Mother Earth a few hundred yards into the first climb.  He used to really work it sometimes, but other times he would just yard it like that – a real let-down for the team. Do you ever read his site?  It’s called Drunkcyclist.

Sure, I’ve heard of “Sausage Biscuit Kircher Cyclist.com.” But I only read it for the, uh, “pictures…”

What are the best cigarettes for an all-day epic?  Do you know the trick where you can keep them in your handlebars for maximum anti-breakage protection?  I used to be able to fit mass cigs in my bars.  Flat bars obviously work best for this, but you probably know that.

The best cigarettes for an all-day epic are the kind your friend rolled, preferably the night before. I am slightly bemused that I’ve never thought of ye olde “stash your fags in the bars” trick. Said friend usually carries them in his Fanny Pack. Unless I’m riding with UK punters like Chipps, Biff, or Shaggy. They use a “bum pack.”

Here you'll see Hurl with bespoke "Bum-Pack" on his wheel, carrying his supply of Cigs for the SSWC'08.

One time the aforementioned Husky Midget, a great friend and former roommate, showed for a Cat 6 or 7 road race in silver tights, a camo bmx jersey, Echo helmet with big ass Radial Rick visor, and some leather construction gloves.  He was also rocking a Schwinn Varsity with a rattle-can pink paint job, cables & all.  It was the freshest ride in the pelican, for sure.  He was calling out dudes on the climb as he got dropped, then had to pull over about 100 yards before the finish to puke on his bars.  Isn’t that the raddest race shit ever?  It makes me want to race again — BAD.  Doesn’t that make you want to go race bikes right NOW?

I’d like to see, just once, a midget, –husky or otherwise, ride a sidehack with a pelican in a BMX race against Radical Rick & MX Mug. RIGHT NOW. RIDER’S READY? WATCH THE LIGHTS!

Fuck yes. Watch them lights. Um, What’s the number one album in your lineup right now?

#1 platter at the moment would be the long player, “Furr” by Blitzen Trapper. But I can never get too far without a little Zeke in the eye-pod.

This isn't Blitzen Trapper or Zeke.  It's Valient Thorr, and Hurl likes them a lot.

This isn't Blitzen Trapper or Zeke. It's Valient Thorr, and Hurl likes them a lot.

Zeke makes me love music. They also make me hate stuff in a fun way.  If you want to hate on anything, do it here:  (keep in mind, contentment is the new black)
 
Hate is a strong word. I don’t really hate on anything/one. But there sure is a lot of wack shit out there… I guess the term “Don’t Tread on Me” is cool, but only if you practice what you preach. I’m sorry if this sounds soft, but I think you should treat everyone with respect and compassion, if that’s what you hope to receive in return. Except those one guys. Those guys are assholes…

You kept that response super amicable.  Your sensitivity shined through, yet at the same time you told the world that you don’t take no shit.  That is something that will no doubt feed a growing admiration for you. Anyone you’d like to thank, in general? I think they call it a “shout-out,” but I’m not sure. That’s a little too far into the hip-hop vernacular for me.

Neal Hamburger, Donut Queen, StrongArm Marketing, Drunkingham, Soulcraft, Duke of Bourbon, LLRP Under The Bed Burritos, Fitzwerks, Dakota Cyclery, Burleigh County, Thrasher, Basil Hayden, OG Surly Slugs.

Swill. With nicknames like that, you can tell that Hurl Everstone has been places, knows the party like a man, and will never be without a couple of “it’s on me”s.  Thanks for the insight, Hurl.  Keep it tough, and remember – there’s always a lady watching. 

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About Snake Hawk

good, bad, funny, sad, stupid, rad, has, had. non-joining funhaver from coast to coast(er brake). buster of the chops, drawer of the logos. North Carolina, USA

13 thoughts on “Fireside Chat with Hurl Everstone

  1. Ever see someone drive up to a trailhead, unload there bike from car, then pedal away wearing CRC socks? I have.

  2. Snake, are you talking about those sausage biscuits from Burger King in Fragstaff?

    I remember it well. Thems were the daze.

  3. First (and only) time I formally met Hurl, it was at I-Byke, where he said “Pleased to meet you.” And proceeded to drain the rest of his beer over his head.
    I have yet to see a better introduction.

  4. Public Service Announcement: if everyone in your party is drinking and falling warmly into a happy whiskey mood, but one person continues to ramble on quickly, faster than nearby drunks can comprehend, take that fucker outside and give ‘em a helicopter ride.

    Helicopter ride: putting a rider on shoulder(s) of pilot who rotates until passenger pukes or says unkle.

  5. Corey,
    I assume when giving a woman a “helicopter ride” one can make it a “moustache ride” as long as one has come equipped with the appropriate facial hair and taken the time to remove choice articles of her clothing.

    I also assume if one tries this with, say, another guy, that it would indicate you are a) gayer than an a tennis helmet, b) just cruising for any old piece of ass, or c) drunker than you thought.

  6. Pingback: Hurl Interviewed on Drunk Cyclist at Urban Velo