Here we go again! Another year, another Drunkcyclist Day.
This annual post started as an exercise in healing and gratitude for our fallen friend. In some ways it still is. Then Snakehawk came to me a few years ago and suggested that we pivot this somber day to more of what we do: a riding and party holiday!
Today is the day that we make a point to go for a ride, sip a beverage (or 10) and celebrate life. Hit the trail, do your intervals, cruise the bike path, grab a bike share and hop some curbs… It doesn’t matter. Just get out there and appreciate how goddamn fortunate we are.
Not many people read this long form blog anymore but we are still around on Facebook and Instagram. Tag us and show us your ride on this fine drunkcyclist day
We will never go away. Every day is Drunkcyclist Day. Drunkcyclist forever.
*Below is the post I originally wrote back then and will keep posting on this day as long as the internet is a thing.
When I meet people from the DC family out on the trail, the one question I get the most is “How do you know Big Jonny and how did you end up writing for the site?”. I am reminded of the story around this time every year, and today seems like the best day to share it.
I always try to adhere to two rules when writing a post. No politics and nothing too heavy. I am going to have to make an exception here and get a little serious.
I have known Jonny for about seventeen years now. Before that, I was just a fan of the site and only knew of BJ through our fantastic bike community here in Arizona. But I never really hung out with the guy. It isn’t hard to keep tract of the years we have known each other.
Seventeen years ago our friend died.
His name was Kyle, and if you have been reading this site for a while you may have stumbled across his name. We were only close acquaintances and riding buddies at best. I had never met his family, knew his birthday or any of the things close friends know. But the conversations we had and the rides we shared make me proud to call him a friend. He was an original member of the Drunkcyclist crew, and he was a hell of a guy.
When he passed, you could feel the sadness move through our cycling community like a tidal wave. We were grieving and we were going to handle it the only way we knew how. Ride and drink. The call went out over this web site and via word of mouth that there was going to be a memorial gathering. Leave whenever you want, ride whatever you want. Just get to the top of South Mountain. I met up with Jonny and a small group of like minded vagrants at the trailhead and we rode the National trail up the hill. We told stories of our friend and we talked about his favorite trail that we just happen to be riding on. It was never discussed but it seemed like we were all riding at a parade pace, a slow march in memorial to our fallen friend. It was one of the most memorable rides of my life.
When we reached Dobbin’s Lookout on South Mountain, it was an amazing sight to be seen. There were people convening from everywhere. Mountain bikers coming up trails, roadies coming up the road, and non riders in their cars. I liken it to when you see one ant on the sidewalk then your eyes focus and you notice that there are now 50 ants. People were coming from all different directions as if they were materializing out of the desert.
Waiting for us at the top was Kyle’s family, a minister, and a keg of beer. The family said some words and the minister facilitated some amazing story telling. We shared stories for who knows how long. We laughed about our friend’s shenanigans and grown men cried. As I looked around at all these people that came here to pay homage to their friend, there was one common theme. He was just a really nice guy who would do anything for his friends. My thoughts turned to my own impact in this world. How many people would show up if I died tomorrow? Would anybody say these amazing things about me?
At that time, I was a broke, angry, and out of shape loser settling into my position under the bell curve of society. I was living beyond my means and talking shit like it was my job. In short, I wasn’t a very nice person.
This moment was a tipping point in my life. That evening, as I sat on a rock overlooking the city, everything changed. It may sound over simplified and cliché, but that day I vowed two things. To live my dreams every day and to just be a nice person.
Fortunately, I have kept in touch with Jonny over the years and it has eventually brought me here to you guys. If you have a DC jersey you will notice a name and some dates on the back. This has been the story of that man. If you are in ever in Phoenix and find yourself riding up South Mountain road, look for the little memorial across from the ranger station. Stop and pour a little water out for the cactus that’s there. I do it every time.
Our friend was only around for a short while but his impact will be felt for a lifetime. Make time today to go ride, to think about your friends, and to appreciate life.
–Thanks for the life lessons, brother. See you at the end of my ride.by
Thanks Dirty for the reminder to be grateful, kind, patient and generous with your community and even folks to you don’t know. Still sorry for your loss but happy for what you gained in the experience.
Well said and we’ll remembered, Brother!
Thank you for that post. Oh and cheers!
This Thanksgiving, a bicycle activist that lost her loved one to a murdering motorist will lead a tribute ride to all 5 of the ghost bikes we have now in Ulster County, NY.