Saturday in Tucson means only one thing, wake up early and get ready to hurt. It’s the shoot out boys and girls, and it will break you in half.

At least the first hour of it will. It goes like all hell broke loose for a while, and then once yer totally cracked and you can find a few more like minded individuals, you can ride a whole hell of a lot slower for the rest of it.

Everyone tells the significance of "making it to the bridge". Now, this is no great expanse of steel spanning some great chasm, river or other natural wonder. In fact, I’m not even sure what it’s going over at all. Not much it seems.

This thing is cold hard concrete and couldn’t give a shit about me. It only rises maybe 50 feet in a couple hundred yards, so it’s no huge obstacle in that way. But, when the screw gets turned, baby, things get ugly.

I got to the ‘bridge may be icy’ type sign before it all came crashing down for the big man. Oh, chicken little, the sky is falling and it’s falling on me.

From: AJ Subject: JRA JRA on the BOS and guess who pops his little head up?? El Gnomey del Gnome. Yes Dave Herbold indeed. We chatted for a bit then he an Lemke decided to gas it. Yep stayed with them till it went up hill then it was bye bye. Felt like I had a lead weight for an ass. Worked them on the sprint part. Mt. Lemmon will be a joy. Asked Gnomey if he was doing it and that was a big negatory. We must drink beer tonight. I will call you when we get down. I have your tray for the Thule. I will bring it. Later.

I’ll see you in hell, AJ. Or when you get to Tucson. Whichever comes first.

Friday, August 30, 2002

school girl   I   linda   I   oh boy

Yeah baby, it’s the end of the week. Doesn’t mean so much when you’re unemployed I guess, but its the principle of the matter. There’s principalities to this shit.

I have to link this site, electricrhino.net. Very cool band. Never seen ‘em live, but I don’t know that they come out this far west. Lots of tunes to download for your listening pleasure. And, they ride bikes.

And, would ya believe it, Mullette head wrote me back. Will wonders ever cease?

From: edmulete707@netscape.net Subject: Re: URGENT ASSISTANCE(PLEASE CALL ME NOW) From: Edward Mulete. Dear Jones, We have to start by thanking you for your immediate response to our invitational business proposal, which we believe, marks the beginning of a lifetime success for us all. In other to proceed in this transaction, I want to make you understand all that we are expected to do jointly to enable you claim this consignment on our behalf, my mother have written to the Security & Finance Firm requesting information on how to redeem the consignment in their custody as contained in the will that was handed over to my mother by our local pastor and my fathers good friend. Jones, considering the fact that she did not make the deposit herself but rather the next of kin, they have scheduled a meeting with her to ascertain who she is, thus have been requested to meet with them with the original certificate of deposit issued to my father and any other document showing her relationship with my father, however I will contact you as soon as the meeting is over to give you an intimate and comprehensive information on what next you have to do, we have procured a new satellite phone to enhance a more confidential conversation as we do not have our own internet system at home, thus makes the communication ineffective the number is 00871 762 336 533 you can call me on this number for further instructions on the out come of the meeting. Please if you wish to conclude this transaction with us, kindly forward to me your phone and fax numbers, so that we can send to you the letter of agreement after the meeting with the directors. My Mother extends her greetings to you and your family and we hope to meet with you soon. We immensely await your immediate response, as it will be highly appreciated, please call me as soon as you receive this mail for more information. My Sincere Regards. Mulete jr.

Yeah, I’ll call ya.

I’ll call you a lair, a cheat, a no good piece of shit. You fucking scumbag. I hope you get run over by a cement truck and die tasting your own blood. You son of a bitch. I’ll see you in hell.

But, this is what I really wrote.

Mr. Mullete, As I am very busy with my charitable work through the Christian Ministries, I will call you at my earliest possible convenience. That may or may not be next Tuesday. I didn’t see you mentioning Jesus the Lord of Lords in your last email. Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personnel savior? I just don’t have time for people who would ass bang an alter boy. Brian Jones

Thursday, August 29, 2002

marisa   I   chrissy   I   michelle

Yeah, so I get this in the mail today.

From: zeke Subject: Fwd: Bicycle Pub Crawl Bicycle Pub Crawl Sat. Sept. 21 River Market Cycler y (3rd and Grand) Luau Theme Loud shirts, Lays Grass Skirts, Coconut Bras Lots of bars not a lot of riding BYOB -bring your own bike 3:00PM * PRE RIDE  Gives riders an opportunity to familiarize themselves with drinking establishments in the area that may or may not be on the actual route *Must have very high alcohol tolerance to attend preride 5:30PM HUFFY TOSS, SLOW RACE, BIKE LIMBO  A fortune in prizes and trophies will be awarded 7:00PM RIDE BEGINS  Be on time or we’ll leave your ass, an’ we ain’t tellin’ you what the route is All bikes are welcome, but everybody knows that Single-speed Cruisers are the coolest

You mean I’m out murdering myself on these fucking death march group rides and you bunch of assholes is out doing fucking bar crawls?

Fuck you guys. Why don’t you just kick me right in the nuts?

I moved to the wrong fucking town. That’s all I gotta say about that. Every day I’m out of the bush, Charlie gets stronger. Every day I sit here he gets stronger.

Looks like I’m not the only guy diggin the Athlete Octane. Check this email.

From: Ryan Subject: [No Subject] Man, I tried the Athlete Octane stuff and it works. I even told em' I heard about it from you. On my 3rd bottle and I love it. Hair on the palms is a little annoying, but I'm going faster than ever! Even qualified to go to this little event up in BC, the 24hours of adrenaline Solo World Championships. I leave tomorrow. Gonna have that stuff shoved into an IV and put in my Camel Bak!

Right on man. Another guy on the juice. Once you're hooked, you're hooked baby.

Sticking with the whole email thing, check this out.

From: N. Subject: Naked pic of Dutch racer Corine Dorland Yo Big Jonny Here's a pic of an ad that features Dutch racer Corine Dorland naked on a bike. It's for a European sports channel I think. gallery.consumerreview.com/mtbr/gallery/pictures/corine_dorland Enjoy.

Oh wait, there’s more. Also from our man N. This girl pretty much makes me want to break my penis in half. Click here to check out Niki Gudex. And she races. And she wins.

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

stupid big tits   I   vivian silverstone   I   lesbo-rama

Today was a hurt locker day like no other. I made it to what they call pistol hill on the group ride. Which, I might add, is further than I ever made it with the group this February. But I think they were riding a bit faster back then.

Then, as the gnome finished his ridiculous pace setting and pulled out, like what the hell? How does he go that fast? Hey, look there he goes down the outside. Hey look, I’m the last wheel. Hey look, the rubber band has snapped.

It all came crashing down for the big man.

Flames, baby. Flames.

The gnome and I, both way past done, fucked to all hell, crawled the rest of the way into some gas station. Jesus Christ that hurt. We were going something along the line of 10 miles an hour for a while there. Ya think running our system wheels was a little on the near side of stupid?

I’m thinking it was full on totally fucking stupid. I saw one guy running those new Campy full carbon wheels. And I’ve got a four pound front wheel with a real tank out back too.

Fucking things feel like your riding on mud. Fucking mud. Turn them son’s a bitches as 20 plus for a while and really toss yourself in the hurt locker. Ugh.

We came back on something called the Old Nogalas Highway. A real piece of shit road if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sure it’s just dandy when you’re not blown to hell, riding with a group and feeling sporty. But, it’s no way for a man to grovel home. No way at all.

I can tell you this much, I’d rather pound a wood chisel into my own forehead than go out and do hill repeats tomorrow. Fuck that. There is no way I’m going anywhere near Gates Pass after today’s beating. Justin can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m going hard tomorrow.

My new plan for Thursday is to ride at under 14 miles per hour. Yep, that’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.

Oh, the things we do for love.

Hung Chow called his boss and says: "Hey, boss I not come work today, I really sick. I got headache, stomach ache and my legs hurt, I not come work."

The boss says: "You know Hung Chow I really need you today. When I feel like this I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex. That makes me feel better and I can go to work. You should try that.

"Two hours later Hung Chow calls again: "Boss, I do what you say and I feel great, I be at work soon. You got nice house."

Ho ho, stop my sides hurt. OK, this is somewhere along the lines of a public service announcement. Kinda. A little.

From: Joshua Subject: briana banks aka: mirage First off, I laugh my ass off every time I visit the site. Secondly, I don't know if this is common knowledge, but Briana Banks used to use Mirage as her stage name. Or porno name, or whatever the terminology is. What a nasty little monkey, too! She does ass to mouth, and worse yet (or better yet, I'm not sure) goes back and forth between ass and puss. I know that's not proper hygiene. Anyway, I think she changed her name with the boob job. Keep on something, Joshua

Right on man, that was something I didn't know. And now that I do, I can search google in a whole different way. Which I’ll be doing in about twelve minutes.

And, wouldn’t you know it, I found this.

In case your wondering what kind of sick fuck I am, this poster is on my wall right now.

Bad ass.

But, not nearly as bad ass as the poster that showed in the mail this week from my man D. Meredith at Marzocchi. That is a Jenna Jameson poster, my friends, and it is signed. And you know what, she likes the site. I am now officially cool.

Fuck you Snake. I don’t see any thing on your wall from a porn star. You better recognize.

I also got my new Team Ireland kit in the mail this week. It is one bad ass jersey and shorts combo. Now I fit in nicely with those Landis goofballs Justin and Dave. See, I can be green too.

A man I will call simply "N" sent this link. Why, it’s a girl on a bike for fucks sake. And, you can view it as a slide show. I must be really bored if I’m watching that as a slide show.

Oh yeah, I pretty much dropped the ball yesterday with these links. No worky worky. It’s all cool now though. I’m on it. Read this and this over at daily peloton.

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

sydney moon   I   sydney moon   I   sydney moon (fuck you, she’s hot)

Today I went up Mt. Lemon. I got dropped. Do what else is new?

My man Tom sent in this fine link. That, my friends, is a naked girl on a bicycle. And, that looks a whole lot like the riding near Dixon, Illinois. Life is good.

Tom also sent this and claims you can see a bike in the fifth picture. All I see is a big blue dildo, but fuck it. I ain’t complaining.

So I’m taking this stuff called Athlete Octane. Every day now for about two months, maybe even a little longer. Since they’re located right here in Tucson, I stopped by the other day to say hi.

Good folks and a good product. I really can’t tell how it does what it does, and to hear Dan the man explain it makes my head want to explode. But, take it from me, take this stuff for about seven to ten days and you’ll be feeling great.

It’s like this, I can’t explain the physics of why a gyroscope works like it does. Like, why a spinning wheel wants to right itself, allowing a bicycle to work in the first place. I just know it works, I can see it work and I go with that.

Athlete Octane is along those lines. It just does what it’s supposed to. It increases endurance, reduce lactic acid buildup, and dramatically reduces post-workout fatigue. Just like it says on the side of the bottle.

Sometimes I don’t know about that last one. If this is a "dramatically reduced post workout fatigue", I’d hate to see normal post workout fatigue. I’m pretty much hammered.

Gotta stay focused, Snake could show up in town any day, and I better have my good legs and sharp elbows ready for him. He’s calling me out pretty hard on the old message board, and I’m calling him out right back.

The difference being he’s fast and I’m not. Maybe I’ll see who can carry a sofa the furthest or something like that. I’ll murder him in car pulling. Maybe I’ll switch out of the system wheels to something a little more "normal" and show him the pain cave.

From: Dave Subject: Re: Electric Rhino and links! Heya Jonathon. I too, have received those emails asking for my account number in order to deposit huge sums of money acquired and hidden in order to avoid being absorbed by some dastardly government scheme or some insurrection of some sort. My standard response is this, feel free to cut and paste it in a word document, for easy retrieval and usage. "Dear Sir (Locutus of Zimbabwe, Miriam the Dissolving of the 5th plane of existence, whomever) My what a fantastic idea! How lucky am I to be the gracious recipient of your immense monetary love! I immediately concur and my penis swells with pride at the opportunity to be of service to your family's plight. I will gladly offer any assistance I can, on one condition. My pet chimpanzee JoJo and I wish to jam several large muskmelons deep into your asshole, in order to see just how much you can take, as we will no doubt make you our butt-slaves once you come to our great country to claim the 70% of the billions of dollars you've promised to deposit in my account! Oh what joy I am sure this email comes as no surprise to you. Please hurry up and fuck off at your earliest convenience." I have never had one of these replies returned to me. Maybe it's my word usage? Hmmm. Dave Captain, Team Evil

Well, you guys are the evilest team out there for a reason. Wanna see some of those reasons? Read this and this over at daily peloton. You will be impressed.

He even mentions me and the boys, but fails to mention drunkcyclist. Just something about liquor, guns and porn, but with it all turned around backwards and shit. Yeah, we were all drinking pretty good. I can understand how you would get it mixed up.

Here is what he had to say about us, "we managed to find a team of dudes, all decked in their race gear (obviously a team) and their sponsor, whom I have since found out doesn't exist which makes them even cooler, is "Guns Liquor and Porn.com". And damn were they quick. We had a nice 20 man pace line cooking it up pretty high there for a while. The whole thing was a departure from racing except when riding with them, but it was nice. Good to keep training for the upcoming rides by doing some solid fast tempo work for a few hours."

That’s right, we came out to drink beer, ride like hell and fuck sheep. Um, forget I said that last one. I was just helping her over a fence. Really.

Monday, August 26, 2002

sydney moon   I   sydney moon   I   sydney moon (seeing a pattern?)

Just so you know I can’t stop looking at this chick no matter how hard I try, check out this gallery. And that is one big fucking crayon.

This here might just be the oldest trick in the book.

From: edward mulete (edmulete700@netscape.net) Subject: URGENT ASSISTANCE ATTN: Good day, I am Edward Mulete JR. the son of Mr. STEVE MBEKI MULETE from Zimbabwe. I am sorry this mail will surprise you, though we do not know, my mother Mrs. Clara got your contact through the International Chamber of Commerce. Due to the current war against white farmers in Zimbabwe and the support of President Robert Mugabe to claim all white owned farms in our country to gain favor for re-election. All white farmers were asked to surrender their farms to the government for re-distribution and infact to his political party members and my father though black was the treasury of the farmers association and a strong member of an opposition party that did not support the president idea. He then ordered his party members and the police under his pay row to invade my father's farm and burn down everything in the farm. They killed my father and took away a lot of items from his farm. After the death of my father, our local pastor and a close friend of my father handed us over will documents with instructions from my father that we should leave Zimbabwe incase anything happen to him. The will documents has a certificate of deposit, confirming a deposit kept in custody for us in a security company unknown to the company that the content is money hence it was deposited as personal belongings and ensure that we do not remain here as we could easily be found by his enemies. The total amount is US$21.5M.We are therefore soliciting for your assistance to help us move the fund out of Zimbabwe, as our fate and future is far from reality, hence this mail to you. The president's present ban of International Press into Zimbabwe and the drop from office of the Finance Minister to avoid giving white farmers fund Transfer clearance above US$1M is just a few of the unthinkable things he is committing in my Country. I have tried to reach my father's close friend Mr. John Casahans from Australia also a farmer who was leaving in Zimbabwe with us but left with his family late last year following this ugly development to no avail. Should you be interested to help us, contact me immediately via email for easy communication and I will furnish you with the time frame and modalities of the transaction. We have concluded a wonderful plan of caring out the transfer within two weeks. Please note that this transaction is100% confidential and risk free and will not endanger you or us in any way. We have resolved to give you 20% of the total sum upon confirmation of the fund in any account of your choice were the incident of taxation will not take much tool on the money and we look forward to coming over to your country to invest our share and settle there. I am arranging for a private phone so that our conversation can be 100% confidential. Please do not use the reply button, reply only to edmulete707@netscape.net Please take note. God bless you indeed as you help yourself and us. Mr. EDWARD MULETE REPLY TO (edmulete707@netscape.net)

I don’t know what they call this scam, but I’ve seen it before. This cocksucker is going to try and get my back account number, saying he’ll deposit the money in my account. When in actuality, he’s gonna take whatever I have in the account out and fuck me. Old scam, new spin. In fact, one of my readers forewarded me about 7 emails when he got the same offer. My guy strung this son of a bitch along for weeks. Lets see if I can do the same.

Here is my reply to my new friend in need.

From: bigjonny@drunkcyclist.com Subject: Re: URGENT ASSISTANCE Mr. Mullette Head, I am very sorry for you state of affairs. I would love to help you in any way I can. Please tell me how I can help you, as I am a very compassionate Christian, and it is my calling to bring others into the fold as it were. Have you Mr. Mullette accepted Jesus Christ as your personnel savior? The day of redemption is almost upon us, as the chaos in your personnel affairs can only attest to. Let me help you. Accept Jesus Christ into your life and all will be well. Please let me know if I can be of any other further assistance in any way. God Bless You, Brain Jones

I thought it would be funny to give him a fake name too. Since we’re being so honest with each other and all.

If anyone else wants a piece of this cocksucker, feel free to email him and tell him about Jesus, Satan, your cock, toe jam, flat tires, and the 53 - 12. This poor fucker needs all the help he can get.

Sunday, August 25, 2002

first timer   I   katana jade   I   amber michaels

Another day, another dollar. Right?

Since my head is totally gone, I’ll have to sort through some email and find something to post. I can’t really come up with much myself right now. To let on to how fucked I am right now, I had an update for both Friday and Saturday I thought were online. But, I never uploaded them is seems. So, ya’ll got to read Thursdays post a couple of times while I sat around thinking I had a few days of shit up where I didn’t. So, I’ll let this weekends blunder ride for a few. You know, get some miles out of the shit. Oh yeah, I fixed the site of the week link, flash boobs thing (sidney moon?). It didn’t work. Now it does.

Here are some pics from team haze. It’s all about Ragbrai, isn’t it. For now and forever.

These guys have it all figured out as far as I’m concerned. Could this be the foundation for a permenant ragbrai experience? I think maybe so.

My man paddy asks if you’ve ever been this drunk. The pics will tell the tale.

The answer for me, is yes, I’ve been that drunk. Maybe even drunker. But, I can get my dick out and piss in really inappropriate places while standing. ‘Cause I just don’t give a fuck and I have a penis.

Here is a bunch of short, nasty, dumb porn vids. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Click here.

Saturday, August 24, 2002

katana jade   I   angel jade   I   lesbo-rama

Today was my first time on Tucson’s famous Saturday morning ride, the shootout. It goes hard, and I got dropped.

I was ready for it. In fact, I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror at 5:15 asking my reflection, "Who’s ready to get dropped? Huh, who's ready to get his ass handed to him?"

Proper preparation is everything you know.

I wasn’t the first to get popped, and I wasn’t the last. Safely in the middle of the herd for fat boy. It’s the safest place to be, if your a gazelle I guess. The lagging ones get eaten by the lions. As the group disappears up the road, a guy comes by and says, "Welcome back to Tucson, big jonny."

Ah, it’s good to be back my friend. Good to be back indeed.

While I was following Justin and the Gnome around Tucson for 5 hours I came up with a few new ideas. One is a screen play based on something someone else already did called "Desperately Seeking Susan". But mine is going to be called "Desperatly Seeking Threshold".

It’s about a boy from a small town who make it in the big city. Some real feel good shit. One morning he finds his threshold, and spends the rest of movie trying to discover it again, surviving all kinds of witty antics in the meantime.

I think it’s a winner.

My second idea is for my first book. I’m going to title it, "big jonny, it’s all about the bike". The alternate is "It’s all about porn".

I haven’t decided which is better yet.

Friday, August 23, 2002

isabella camilla   I   american hot beauties   I   chick on a bike

I guess I spoke to soon about getting through my last ride on my fixey unscathed. When I went to pull her from the heap of bikes that decorates my kitchen, she had a flat front tire.

I just can’t win.

I shouldn’t complain, at least she didn’t break completely in half. And I guess I could make a pretty good argument that I made it through the ride OK This will help explain the latter half of the pics on my new Ragbrai 2002 gallery. Maybe not so much explain as enlighten, astound and amaze.

Permanent Ragbrai. Think about it. Could catch on.

From: Bryce Subject: [No Subject] Dude. I am just please as peaches to see you've posted some of my rag pics. Quiet honestly, I'm just giddy, no wait...too gay......I'm stoked and somewhat honored to have some of my crap posted on my favorite fuckeen site. Sweet. Just so you know, that's my handsome puss in that pic with the sweet little thing with DUTCH on her breasts. The somewhat short story behind that....The reason I took that pic (as if it wasn't enough that it has this little hottie acting like she's enjoying hanging out with my crusty old ass) is because one of my best rag buds and sag driver / roadside party master of all time, is Dutch, of Team Morning Boner. That's him posing with the Man in the picture captioned "Drinking with The Man." Dude is righteous! Even when the rest of his "team" all have sand in their vaginas, and don't go to rag, he comes (I said comes) in the Morning Boner bus, blasting cosmic decibel levels of AC/DC all the way. On a daily basis, Dutch will find just the right intersection of gravel road and the route, out there where there's way too many miles between bars. You find yourself cresting a hill, a bit parched and yearning for that next cold cold one, and your heart warms and spirits lifted as you spot the Morning Boner bus on the horizon. Those that are fortunate enough to be riding way back in the pack (DFL) where we do, are welcome to stop and are treated to frosty suds, vodka-lemonade cocktails, and tasty tunes. You, Mr. bigjonny, will most definitely have to party on the Morning Boner bus on rag2003, unless yer skeered. OK...Enough of my rambling. Couple of other notes regarding pics. Some of my fellow Team Bare Naked buds are pictured: T-Garv - Dude in the freezer with beer, and naked guy by the ditch weed.....he has a propensity to climb into cold places and drink beer, like that freezer, or tubs of beer, and a founding member of Bare Naked. Also proud to say was my cellmate in Cherokee a few years back. Squirb - T-Garv's brother, is that fellow proudly displaying his member in a number of those photos. One of a kind, that guy. Holly - Kick ass skirt, dancing on the bar in "Drunk as hell". My Ass - starring in "Follow that ass." Enough already Get the fuck outta here

And a fine ass it is, my friend. A fine ass indeed. If I don’t say so myself. I’d follow that ass anywhere, especially if it led to free beer. Which I’m sure it does. Most of the time anyway.

More email. Cause I can actually get my fat stupid ass online today. Amazing.

From: Rick Subject: RE: hey rick Jonny, what up man, Rick here. Check this out, Every year at The Mount Snow NORBA national, they do a naked Crit. In years past it has been a real crit, with preme laps and everything. The men go first and then the bitches go. Usually the Brooklyn Cycling team runs the event, but it came to my attention that they weren't there last year, and they weren't there this year. Basically it was all unorganized with the men and woman just all riding together in a big circle. This went on for 20 minutes before I said Fuck this and took control. I went out there and stopped all the riders, and collected cash for both the men and women. Racing for money is so much more exciting. The men's winner won at least $100 and the woman's winner won at least $200. here is the thing, mad people were taking pictures and I was so busy running the thing that I didn't get any. So could you put out a call for some pics of this great event, I would imagine you would be flooded with pics of hot naked woman.

See, I didn’t even name who you work for. And you were concerned. Good think you were there to save the day, like superman or some shit. You made the day.

So, if anyone wants to send in some pics, or better yet just tell me where you already uploaded them, go ahead and email me. Yee haa.

That’s probably enough mail for now, good night.

Thursday, August 22, 2002

luna lane   I   she’s a nurse?   I   lesbo-rama

OK, today we talk about the Uhlerstown hill. It’s fresh in my mind again after getting dropped both ways over Gates Pass my Gnome and Julz this morning. Fuck me. I am not a climber. Not ever a little bit.

Uhlerstown Hill road is in Pennsylvania off River road right near the bridge across the Delaware to Frenchtown, New Jersey. Before you die, you should check this thing out. It’s gotta be ever bit as tough as a climb in the spring classics. It is a fucking wall.

You’ll see just what you’re getting into as you turn off River road. Take a nice long look at the pretty fields, flowers and happy times while you ride the mile or so away from the river. See that wall of trees ahead of you? Where the ground juts up from the river valley at an impossible angle? Today is your lucky day, my friend. You get to go up that.

Whatever sick son of a bitch carved this whore of a road from the rock didn’t like himself very much. No sweeping switchbacks here folks. Ride through the Uhlerstown covered bridge over the canal. Check the scenery, soak it up man. It’s going to hurt soon, and a lot.

Follow the road to the right, paralleling the canal. Look one more time at the flowers. Remember not everything in this world is pain.

I was in my 23 already when I rode this thing, on the early part of the climb. Where it really isn’t bad at all. I started to think, oh, this is OK. I can do this. Yeah right, asswipe. You’re only going along the side of the hill so far. In about a hundred yards this thing swings right, straight into the grade. Straight up for about what feels like forever.

And to make it even worse, it’s the chappiest pavement you’ve ever seen. Just awful. Unreal. Patches of blacktop laid on top of one another in no discernible pattern, serving no obvious purpose. Riding on that is incredibly hard. One my one and only attempt this summer, I made it to the second to last telephone pole before my momentum ceased and I had to clip out as I was falling over.

At least I think it was the second to the last telephone pole. It may well be the third. It’s got a little orange number sign on it, about 3 by 5 inches maybe. Says something like 387 or 847. Anyway, that’s where I crapped out.

Just getting started again was a bitch. This road is one lane wide. Two cars cannot pass each other on it save for a few pull outs. I had to back my rear tire into the dirt, pedal a half revolution and jam my cleat back into my pedal before ratchet pedaling into and through a tight turn to avoid going straight across into the trees on the other side. I couldn’t pedal through the turn, as I would have planted a crank in the pavement and had to start all over again.

Unreal. I was so far out over the front end when it was smooth enough to stand I couldn’t believe it. And when I had to sit, which was most of the climb ‘cause my rear wheel would just spin otherwise, the front end wandered and bounced all over the place.

It is the hardest climb I have ever done. For a short climb anyway. It’s no grand mountain pass that takes hours to get over. But, in the short savage category I think it’s the worst thing I’ve ever been on. Much worse than Gates Pass, worse than anything on Camelback or Mummy Mountain.

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

briana banks   I   chirssy m   I   lesbo-rama

"Thousands of geniuses live and die undiscovered either by themselves or by others." -Mark Twain

I’ve got a new Ragbrai gallery together. Finally. Took me long enough, didn’t it? I’m just no damn good.

Click here to see it.

From: sfa fasdfasd Subject: Well jack me off Fuck me, Jonny. I am sitting here, throwing myself a pity party and getting sick and tired of hearing it from myself. Six weeks ago I ripped my knee all to shit in a single on single drop in accident on a local trail. Fucked up, I tell you. So, I haven't walked, driven or even been out of the house in six fucking weeks and won't be ambulatory for at least another four. Shit. I need a beer. I can't even get that until Albertsons.com gets their ass here with a case of fucking United Nations best in 12oz bottles. But, here I wait. I bet that Punky Brewster is going to grow up to be a piece of ass. Her and those twins from that stupid family show with Bob Saget. I have ordered a new frame, drank, checked out porn, bought parts, read every magazine, checked out porn, drank, taught myself to build wheels, built wheels, built bikes for friends, worked on friends' bikes, drank and checked out porn, drank, drank and checked out porn. So, if you think you are going to hell, welcome aboard the bus. Take a window seat and enjoy the view. I will be the drunk behind you with crutches.

And I thought I was going through a rough patch with all the flat tires. I don’t know shit apparently. I hope it gets better for ya, sfa fasdfasd, if that is your real name.

Speaking of flat tires, I rode for two whole hours today and didn’t get one. I can’t believe it. Simply amazing. I’ve had three in the last three days, one per day. I was beginning to think I was simply doomed to a life of changing tubes. Fuck being a pump dummy.

Check out this memo. Too funny. Thanks to Bruce for sending that one in.

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

lesbo-rama   I   more lesbo-rama   I   veronika vanoza

Let’s see, still off line. Great. I can only imagine what my inbox is gonna look like. Maybe like a trainwreck?

Fuck it.

I kinda pussed out and relinked a modest mouse mp3 this week. But, it’s a damn good mp3. Worthy of the link.

There was are things I wanted to tell ya’ll about. One is cheesesteaks, the other is Uhlerstown Hill Road.

Ang and I had a whole cheesesteak bonanza going when I was back in Pennsylvania last week. I was going to talk about the restaurant, the food that type of shit. Then, the Sunday paper had a bunch of highschool kids driving around comparing cheesesteaks. The same thing I was doing.

When I saw the article and read what they wrote about places I ate, it kinda took the wind out of my sails. I felt like, shit, someone just did this, why the fuck would I want to do it too?

Anyway, the short version is like this. I had all of mine with Provolone cheese, onions and peppers. Some guys like American, or cheesewiz, but fuck that shit. I’ve had enough of these damn things in my lifetime to know what I like.

Italian Delight in Doylestown makes a good one. You really can’t knock the product. I’ve been eating at this place since I was in Elementary school. It’s part of me.

Next up was Rick’s in the Reading Terminal Market, downtown Philadelphia. Ricks had a friggin vat of hot peppers you can ladle out to your hearts content. It must hold two gallons of those red and yellow beauties.

The third cheesesteak was from a place in Frenchtown, New Jersey. I forgot the name of the place, but it’s the only game in town. It ain’t that big of a town to start with, so it won’t be hard to find. Good steak, and probably the largest. I had to take a two hour nap after this one.

It was like Thanksgiving dinner on a roll.

The forth and final cheesesteak was from Nat’s in Doylestown. Kick ass from top to bottom. Speaking of bottom, you should get a look at my ass after all this gluttony. It’s fucking sick what I do to myself sometimes.

In the weeks after Ragbrai, I didn’t ride very much. I was drinking beer like it was fucking water, but no miles on these legs. Nik, on the other hand, put in back to back 15+ weeks. That’s why he’s getting faster and I’m getting larger.

I'm too depressed. I'll tell ya about the Uhlerstown hill later.

Monday, August 19, 2002

Sorry, no links today.

"Sorry, no links today." What the hell is that, you ask?

Well, I have phone line at the new pad yet. No phone, no internet. It’s that simple. I can sit here and write, but I can’t get online.

Yee haa.

Well, God damn it, another week has passed me by. I’ve been running around so much trying to get my new house in order I missed the angry hippies birthday bar-b-que. It just wasn’t in the cards this weekend.

To tell you the type of week I’ve been having, I’ll sum up my last two outings on the bike. I’ve been on my fixed gear for three reasons. First, I like it. Second, my road bike is somewhere between here and Pennsylvania. UPS says it’s "in route" and I shouldn’t worry. Shouldn’t worry, my ass. You bunch of lazy fucks, why I oughta…

But, I digress. The third reason I’m riding my fixed gear is that it’s the only bike of four I’ve got with me that actually works. Yeah, I’ve got a whole stable full of horseshit. Maybe I’ll have to try fixing them, with tools and everything. I dunno, could be dangerous.

So, I take out Fixey McGillicuddy. I break a spoke. I figure fuck it, I can’t fix it. I can either keep riding or go on home like a pussy. What would Steve McQueen do in an situation like this? He wouldn’t be doing shit, you asshole, Steve McQueen would have already beat up two guys, chatted up the hottest chick in the joint and just generally gotten on with it by now.

I rode on.

I break another spoke. Right next to the first one. Of course. Where else, but where the stress is greatest? I’m fucked. I’m not Steve McQueen. I’m going home.

I just happen to have a piece of shit spare rear wheel that’ll work. I put it all together and go to sleep. Wake up, tire’s flat. Put in a new tube and change the rim strip while I’m at it. Go for ride number two.

Ride for a bit, and catch a flat. Change it, go home. Consider suicide. Figure I’ll play around with the website, it’s almost the same thing.

Saturday, August 17, 2002

mitzy   I   mandy   I   angel cassidy

First day in my new pad. Like Julz says, I’m the coolest married bachelor she knows. I think I’m probably the only one she knows. So I’m a stand out in a field of one.

Yep, I’m all alone on the podium again. It’s lonely at the top.

And now I’ve got the Gnome for a neighbor. Stay gold, ponyboy, stay gold.

Tucson, the jewel of the southwest, the new home of drunkcyclist. Also know as the winter training grounds, but its a bit early for that being that its August and all.

I’m actually going to have an actual address of my own. No more writing "care of" on envelopes for this poor fuck. I’m stoked.

I’ve been here what, twelve hours? I’ve already managed to piss off the property management people by climbing of the roof to fix the evaporative cooler. "We can’t have you on the roof, sir, it’s a liability."

Yeah, well it’s hotter that fuck and the fucking swamp cooler is tits up. Send out Mr. Fix It, Mr. Handy, Mr. Handy-mah-capped, or who ever you contract this shit out to and lets get this thing running.

The part I need costs $9.95 at fucking Home Depot. We’re not building a rocket shit here people.

OK, I’m done. For now.

Now I just gotta bogart my way into the Gnomes DSL and really start partyin’. Its about time the high speed porno express made a stop around here. Choo choo, baby.

Fuck, I can’t do shit when I’m not online. I need porn. And, it’d be nice to actually read my mail. Oh well, maybe when the Gnomer gets home from work???

It’s late now and many hours have past since those last words were written. Now I’m drinking Spaten Optimator ($3.99 a sixpack!) and listening to Modest Mouse. In heaven, everything is fine. In heaven, everything’s all right.

Tomorrow I’m going to get up, ride for a few hours, get in the car, drive for a few hours, and then get shitty with gitty. It’s big gay corey’s birthday bar-b-que and fuck me if I’m gonna miss that.

Much respect.

This is funny

When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver’s side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "it’s open!" To which he replied, "I know - I already got that side."

RoCket Boy posted a whole buncha kick ass porn links in the forum. That guy rules.

Thursday, August 15, 2002

sonja   I   sexy brunette amateur???   I   I am going to hell

Ullrich wants a "new beginning" and adds that, "I know that I disappointed many people - my family, my fans, my friends…" I want his ass back on a bike and racing. We can all be happy with this one. Read about it over at cyclingnews.com.

Aside from that, I’m falling back on my usual stance of ‘fuck it’.

From: mudflap Subject: bikes and shit dude, it has been so long. and the funny thing is i couldn't pick you out of a crowd at hooters, flickin quarters at some tight ass. you are my brother nonetheless, i know. so here is the question, why is that certain shade of DC yellow so appealing? you know, that golden hue that illuminates my room as i sit here too drunk and lazy to move... there must be something scientific involved here... are you trying to brainwash me?

We are all slaves to the great golden hue. Like moths to a light bulb, baby.

By this time tomorrow I’ll be drunk in Tucson. It works for me. I’ll leave you with these words of wisdom.

A couple is lying in bed. The man says, "I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world"
The woman says, "I'll miss you."

"It's just too hot to wear clothes today," Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, "honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?"
"Probably that I married you for your money," she replied.

He said - Since I first laid eyes on you, I've wanted to make love to you really badly.
She said - Well, you succeeded.

He said - Shall we try swapping positions tonight?
She said - That's a good idea...you stand by the ironing board while I sit on the sofa and fart.

He said - What have you been doing with all the grocery money I gave you?
She said - Turn sideways and look in the mirror.

Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?
A: A rumor

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

luna lane   I   I’m dyin’ over here   I   still dyin’

The trip home. To that place you grew up. You can’t go back to what was, it ain’t there no more.

What replaces it is sometimes OK. Maybe even better in some ways.

Who knows. Maybe only time will tell. But, of course, with more time, everything will just change again. It’s like that sometimes, you know.

You can always count on change. If nothing else, that remains a constant.

I don’t know right, wrong or otherwise. I don’t know much of anything, really. I just push the pedals around and watch the scenery change.

In case you were wondering, plaid shirts and striped pants rarely make a positive fashion statement.

Just so you know.

I’m back in Phoenix now, feeling like I’ve just been through the meat grinder. I hurt just about everywhere a man could. Too much booze, too much red meat, too much sleeping on a shitty bed, too much, too much.

I need some time sleeping on the floor, the diet of Ghandi and a few hours on a bike to get my head straight. Too much of everything to figure it all out.

It’s good to be back.

By Friday night I’ll be in my new apartment in Tucson. Me, the dog and the bike. Change.

Go check out franktuesday.com. No shit, those fuckers have a website. No pics as of this afternoon, but it can’t be long.

Attention Big Gay Randy.

From: Erik Subject: Hey, there’s great singletrack in KY Dude, I saw your note about Randy being in KY. If he's near Louisville, have him send me an e-mail. I can tell him where he'll find grade-A, first-class, cream-o-the-crop, top-dog, unsurpassed singletrack. And, good burritos.

Here’s Erik webpage, mudhen.net. And remember, fair citizens of Kentucky, I was never knocking ya for where ya live or anything like that. I was just busting Randy’s balls. Just something I do here on the site.

Some say it’s the whole reason I started this thing.

Monday, August 12, 2002

amber michaels   I   sydney moon   I   briana banks

Snake just rode his ass into third place in Leadville. He’s the fucking man. Don’t you forget it. Read all about it here. Congratulations to Jim Wilcox and Janet Kirby as well. AZ all the way.

Well holy shit, it’s time to go home. A few days in old Pennsylvania and I’m ready and rearin’ to go. And when I say home, I mean Arizona. Yes I do.

One week with the old man and we’ve put away two cases of Yuengling lager, one of the black and tan, a case of Sam Addams or two, and countless bottles of wine among the women folk. Not bad for taking it easy. I drank and rode a lot less than I did at Ragbrai, but it pained me all the way. I want to live on permenant Ragbrai. Someone should invent that.

I can even get back into my server, praise Jesus and all that. You would not believe how many mail messages are waiting for me after three days. Try on 350. Most of them will prove to be bullshit, maybe twenty will be virus laden. Just fleshing out the goods will take me in excess of an hour, and that’s without reading any.

It is gonna be a long night.

I’ve blasted through and set another new record. I’ve never seen so much bullshit email in my life. All I’ve done is delete, delete and delete. Now I’m down to 90.

For those that care, Big Gay Randy is in Kentucky. He calls it the land of, "home of stupid redneck hick fucks". Yeah, yeah, the apple don’t fall far from the tree, eh Randini?

God damn I love that man. And I mean that in the gayest way possible. Like, I want to diddle him in the pooper. Here is the letter I wrote him. Yeah, I’m drunk as shit already.

From: big jonny Subject: RE: cockswiller Dearest Randy, Oh Dear God, Kentucky? Try not to get ass-raped. No matter how much you think you may enjoy it, and you probably would enjoy it a great deal, I feel, and justifiably so, that it would only server to cause irreparable harm to your relationship with Sarah. (with an "h" for closure) She undoubtedly would not enjoy seeing you skewered by the entire highschool football team of some God forsaken town. I might, but that much you already know. On that note, I will try and hide your storied history in gay porn from her as long as I can. But, understand that with the advent of the internet, that gay video is absolutely everywhere. As much as you think her planned trip to Alaska, or whatever frozen gulag she chooses to hide in during her arraignment hearings, will be barren of VCR’s, dial up modems and pornography, I beg to differ. She will find out about you, sooner or later. You should plan for this eventuality. Perhaps you can invent a twin brother? Call him George. Sounds far fetched, I know, but lesser men than you (in both length and girth) had assumed the highest levels of public esteem with far more menacing skeletons in their closet. And speaking of your little traveling companion, I can smell a trollop a mile away. Why do you think I showed an initial interest in her anyway? It was no because of any purity on her part I can assure you. She is in league with Satan. I’m unearthing the dirt on her as we speak. But, nonetheless, the sooner you acknowledge both your gay tendencies and her serving the dark lord the sooner we can turn the page and discuss something worthwhile. Like when, exactly, you’ll be in Tucson. Bring the little minx with you. It’ll be fun. Yours in alcoholism, big jonny

Now that I've destroyed any friendship I may have had with the poor lad, check out this site. It’s all about the vagina, what more can I say?

From: Moose Subject: You’re gonna like this Know the toe, man..know the toe. Here's a link you're gonna love. www.cameltoe.org Rock on, Jonny. People with simple lives like mine live vicariously through you. Thanks for the ride.

Click here for some feel good shit.

I love this next letter.

From: Spencer Subject: God damn it jonny I love your website I do, but DAMN MAN! the only time that I get to view your site is while I sit here at work. I love the links and there are always some amusing games and antics but that fucking "multiple training partners" link just about blew my cover. I clicked on the link and then it started. Not just one site, not two, but like forty popped up on this high speed connection. At home I would call this good luck but here I trying like hell to close, block, cover my screen before someone walks in. Hey there what ya lookin' at there Bob? Ya know! Damn anyway keep up the good work. AZ Single Speed Kicks Ass .......watch out for us drunk bastards at the Single Speed Worlds

Staying with that whole unsafe at any speed and especially at work theme, check this out. Laura from Holland sends her love and these fine links. Remember to say thank you and God bless us everyone.

Check this site. All about hick hucksters. Good times. Their hit counter is at 4 grand and double digit change, think it’ll climb a little once I link ‘em?

I’ve had about six beers since I started this update and couldn’t give a shit about anything about now. So, I’ll use this joke. It’s crude, rude and totally appropriate. If you don’t like it, don’t blame me. Blame June-bug, she’s the one who sent it to me in the first place.

At the end of a tiny deserted bar sits a huge Mexican. He's having a few beers when a short, well dressed, and obviously gay man walks in and sits beside him. After three or four beers, the gay fellow finally plucks up the courage to say something to the big Mexican. Leaning over towards him, he whispers, "Do you want a blow job?"

At this the massive Mexican leaps up with fire in his eyes and smacks the man in the face, knocking him swiftly off his stool. He proceeds to beat him all the way out of the bar before leaving him bruised and battered in the parking lot and returning to his seat. Amazed, the bartender quickly brings over another beer to the big Mexican.

"I've never seen you react like that," he says. "Just what did he say to you?"

"I don't know," the big Mexican replied. "Something about a job."

OK, I am officially going to hell now. Check out my man Gene’s site, asylumbike.com. Two words, bash guard.

And one more thing. This just in from my man Zeke. This is what they do in the midwest while the rest of us just pretend we're having fun. Read it and weep.

From: Zeke Subject: Frank Teusday #5 Duces Wild race report - finally! Ok sorry it took so long I've been meaning to do this for a while so here it goes. The eveing started with early cocktails at a wonderful establishment called Pat Murphy's. After some debate over where the orginal e-mail said the meeting place was we decided to hell with the poor suckers that hadn't shown up. If they wanted to race they could play catch up. After a few rounds and some admireing of Zeke's Playboy shirt we were ready to ride low turn out or not...we have raced with fewer...more beer for us. We (Travis, Dr. Greg, Mr. Young, and zeke) hopped on our steads and headed for the trees while our fearless race promotor and a couple of spectators (thanks Karen and Shelly!!) headed for the car and the start/finish line. We barley got into the woods when Travis called a halt and dug in to his bag for our first offical race beer...PBR of course. Mike headed back to the lot to check one last time for straglers and came back with Aaron and his lovley wife Nicky. After a well deserved tounge lashing and a beer for being late we set off for the start. At the start we were given the low down... each lap you get a card...you need to get five cards...you can trade your card if you slam a beer...new cards come only from riding laps...each lap you slam a beer. Sounds easy enough and there was pleanty of beer, Brian dragged in a whole keg for our enjoyment. There was now a total of six racers, we had a couple of beers and we were off! The loop was relativly short and crossed over it self a couple of times. We got off to a fast start but into the first techinal section travis decided to become a human road block so mike and i were forced to dipactch he and his bike into the woods. After a quick couple of laps and getting two shitty cards I began to wonder if anyone else was ridding complete laps. It crossed it self several times and the only place I was running in to any one else was at the beer stop. After all Frank Teusday races don't exactly have a firm set of rules except run what you brung and no whining. By this time I am feeling a little buzzed and decide the next two laps would be a little shorter. Not wanting to get back to the beer stop too soon I spent some time laying next to the trail siping on a luke warm PBR and smoking a little somein somin. By my forth lap we were all getting a little hammered. Travis had all but given up the race and was laying in the grass with a beer. Beer stops were getting longer and longer. Bikes started getting swaped around... little derby here and there...suddenly Dr. Greg rides by NAKED! BEER BEER BEER BEERBEERBEERBEERBEERBEER...Three nice sets of breasts(thanks dana, karen, and nicky!!!!!) oh yeah TUBE TOPS!!! One lap to go!! I grap the first avaible bike (trav didn't need his anymore) and I was off at a full sprint bouncing off trees for the last complete lap. It was time for the moment of truth the showing of the cards. I manged to get a good hand (I'm not sure how..nudge,nudge,wink wink) I put on my best poker face and waited. I looked like we had a winner and Bam! I laid out my hand...a full house 10 through ace of clubs. Zeke wins!! I had my victory beer, recived my trophy, and then it was time for the victory lap....NAKED. Ripping through the woods with no light, really buzzed and naked is somting every one should try. Very invirgorating. Once back at the start/finish it was time for beer beer beer and bikes in trees & pictures( I have heard of them but not seen them). We decide it was time to go and hauled what was left of the keg out and headed back to PM bar. There we decened on the quite pre close bar like the pack of crazy drunks that we were and ran in to a former Frank Teuseday race champion Schuster who looked perplexed as 10 people tried to tell him at once what he had missed. A few rounds were ordered and every one headed home. so... beer is good riding buzzed is better luke warm PBR and a little somein somin is better than trail mix breasts are nice tube tops rule riding naked rocks...right greg? Stay tuned kids ...coming soon what I can remember about the 2nd annual Dive challange and Ragbri!!!

Saturday, August 10, 2002

kitana jade   I   zdenka   I   sydney and felicity

These seem to be some server issues afloat these days. Beats me what's going on. I pay someone for server space, I don’t run one myself.

I figure it’ll be all sorted by tomorrow sometime. Today is a day of rest after all.

Speaking of rest, looks like I’m not going riding today. I got an email from a local fan of the site, and was going to hook up with the guy for some saddle time. But, since I haven’t been able to access my email since Thursday night, it’s been kinda hard to plan things.

So, my apologies to my unnamed fan. Sorry about not contacting you. Can’t get any email, and can’t send any either.

As a matter of fact, I’m not sure if I can even upload this thing. I'll get in up when I can, maybe in a few hours, maybe in a few days. Hell with it, at least I still have porn. Lots and lots of porn. All American porn. Thank God for porn.

Friday, August 9, 2002

tabitha   I   jessica and nicole   I   sondra hall

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I am so sick of this fucking dial up bullshit. I want online and I want it now. Hit my up, Doc. I need it bad.

The planning for next Ragbrai starts now. Check this out.

From: campoine Subject: no subject How fucked up is this? www.conferencebike.com/index.html. Enough seats for you and six of your best friends. Now if we can just get them to make a model with a keg cooler and tap in the middle..

I dunno man, I’m not convinced that thing just doesn’t spin in circles. But, In light of how dangerous the roads are these days, it might just be good idea. We could get Lynn of Fitness, King Kelly and Nik the Dick…

A day with no cheesesteak is a day wasted. Hear me, oh brothers, for I have sinned. I have not partaken of the glorious grease bomb and I feel hollow, empty and shamed.

I’ll eat one tomorrow when I’m reading about the Saturn Cycling Classic on cyclingnews.com. Anyone else think Vaughters has this one sewn up?

Thursday, August 8, 2002

sara st. james   I   alexus amore   I   sunny leone

It's been a week since Ragbrai and I haven't thanked the chickenman yet. He's always there for us, and everyone else, with free beer at strategic parts of the route. Like, in a front yard, drink what you can, no questions asked. It's a beautiful thing.

Thank you, chickenman. You are doing the Lords work.

I am beginning to think my "one cheesesteak per day" plan was not such a good idea. And I mistakenly believed Ragbrai wore a brother down. I don’t know shit. All this cheesesteak madness is fucking killing me. Talk about a food coma. I feel as though I can’t move.

Today’s food bomb selection came from Frenchtown, New Jersey. It pretty much tossed me in the hurt locker and laughed at me. I got home and had to lay down for a while. Fuck me running, that was one big ass cheesesteak. Christ, I’m still hurting.

But, I ain’t down yet. I’ve got a date with destiny over at Nat’s in Doylestown tomorrow. I really ought to try and make it, it is destiny we’re talking about after all.

This came to me via email today, and I just want to pass it on. Thoughts to live by perhaps.

1. It is important to find a woman that cooks and cleans.

2. It is important to find a woman that makes good money.

3. It is important to find a woman that likes to have sex.

4. It is important that these three women never meet.

Um, read this and just do whatever your heart tells you is right.

From: Dru Subject: Fwd: Attention MBAA Members: Attention everyone. Apparently I have been nominated for something to do with MBAA. Now if you want strippers at every race, free beer, real sponsors that give away cool shit, & not getting hassled by the man at every suck filled event, vote for me. Besides, I don't have anything else to do. I Dru Brooks, will here by make the MBAA state series not suck if I am elected to position. Thank you & ride on, Dru

It’s so evil, it just might work. Here’s the site, mbaa.net. It’s a little to early for the voting part, but fuck it. Act like an asshole anyway. I think Dru is the perfect man for the job.

I got a good letter a week ago where a guy named Hanley asked me to quote him. So I will. "Quote me " Bikes, Beer, and Bitches", in that order, is the secret to life. I've done extensive research tonight including restaurants, theaters, strip clubs, and many bars, and the occasional hot dog stand. I repeat bikes, beer, & bitches. The three B's. Drunk as hell, hope you are too."

Yeah baby, I’m definitely feelin it. The three B’s. For me, it’s always been bikes, boobs and beers. But, feel free to customize with your own personnel preferences.

Go and check out what should I put on the fence. Here is another one for you to enjoy. I know I’ve already linked it, but I’m still laughing so fuck it. topless carwash in moscow. And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn my luck.

My man Gene sent in this link. ‘Cause you know girls love bikes, riding them with their friends and taking there clothes off. You just know it.

I don’t know what I’m doing riding around training be myself. I need partners, multiple training partners. This solo stuff is bullshit.

A guy named Martin sent in these "chatting up" lines. See what you can do with them.

1) I wish you were a door so I could bang you all day long.
2) (Lick finger and wipe on her blouse) Let's get you out of those wet clothes.
3) Nice legs... What time do they open?
4) Do you work for the post office? I thought I saw you checking out my package.
5) You've got 206 bones in your body, want one more?
6) Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?
7) I may not be the best looking guy in here, but I'm the only one talking to you.
8) I'm a bird watcher and I'm looking for a Big Breasted Bed Thrasher, have you seen one?
9) I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on earth tonight.
10) Wanna play army? I'll lie down and you can blow the hell outta me.
11) I'd really like to see how you look when I'm naked.
12) You might not be the best looking girl here, but beauty is only a light switch away.
13) You must be the limp doctor because I've got a stiffy.
14) I'd walk a million miles for one of your smiles, and even farther for that thing you do with your tongue.
15) If it's true that we are what we eat, then I could be you by morning.
16) (Look down at your crotch) Well, it's not just going to suck itself.
17) You know, if I were you, I'd have sex with me.
18) You, Me, Whipped cream and Handcuffs. Any questions?
19) Those clothes would look great in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor.
20) My name is Austin...remember that, you'll be screaming it later.
21) Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?
22) Hi, the voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you.
23) I know milk does a body good, but DAMN, how much have you been drinking?
24) Do you sleep on your stomach? Can I?
25) Do you wash your pants in Mr Sheen because I can see myself in them.

Wednesday, August 7, 2002

aria giovanni   I   vivian   I   nikki nova

I’ve been chillin with my man Rob in scenic Dublin, Pennsylvania. Reminds me of Moscow, Idaho in a lot of ways. Small, dumb place I can’t wait to get out of. Good times.

He’s the fuckhead at pwctoday. I’ve known him about as long as anyone. Er, something. I’ve known him for a long time, let me put it that way. I was the best man at his wedding. And I’m the Godfather to his son. I am the fucking man, baby.

I’m threatening to buy his 4 year old son a bb gun for Christmas. Oh, he’s too young, blah blah blah. If he can load it and get his finger around the trigger, he’s ready to start shooting out windows. It’s high time he started breaking shit for no reason. It’s high time he became a man.

You know what I’m sayin?

I’ve been collecting data on a very important subject this week: Cheese steaks. My goal is one everyday from a different place. Today I went to Philly and ate like a king. I’ve been keeping tabs and will present my finding at the end of the week. Or, when my cholesterol levels shoot through the roof and I find a more sensible hobby.

Like drinking vats of tequila. That would be something.

From: irieeyed Subject: I miss home... Cherry Hill, NJ Yes... I can almost smell the Jersey shore while reading about your ride across the Deleware. Riding around my Cherry Hill neighborhood (woodcrest) on my bike was childhood. And yes when I turned 17 I ditched the bike for routs in the car with the windows up. Still do in the sumertime here (no fumo en mi casa). I moved west after highschool and thats when I began to enjoy the bicycle again. Colorado and AZ gave me different perspectives on mind, body, and bicycle. Sadly, I have not had the chance to go back East and enjoy cycling there as I do here. Do I have a point? Yes... Your blurb about the Deleware River ride helped me to gain perspective on where I have been, where I am, and how far I have come in life. Would a ride through the lush farmlands of PA and South Jersey spin me full circle? Perhaps... irieeyed Go Eagles

No fumar en su casa? No es buen, es malo. Muy, muy malo.

OK, everyone say, "Thank you Laura from Holland". Now click here and here.

Now, I don’t ask for much from all you guys and girls the read the site. But I am now. This is the Dimitri Vassilaros forum off Pittsburghlive.com. Remember him from last week, he wrote an article about how bicycles should not be allowed on the road. I personally can’t stand the thought of him even breathing the same air as me. I want you to go to the forum and really blow that son of a bitch out of the water.

Can ya do that for me?

Here is todays joke.

A newlywed couple had only been married for a few weeks. The husband, although very much in love, couldn't wait to get out on the town and party with his old buddies. So, he says to his new wife, "Honey, I'll be right back."

"Where are you going, coochy-coo...?" asked the wife.

"I'm going to the bar pretty face, to have a beer."

The wife says, want a beer, my love?" She opens the door to the refrigerator and shows him 25 different brands of beers from 12 different countries. The husband didn't know what to do.

The only thing that he could to say was, "Yes, but at the bar...you know...they have...frozen mugs."

He didn't get to finish the sentence. The wife interrupted him, saying, "You want a frozen glass, puppy face?"

She opened the freezer and handed him a frozen solid mug.

The husband, looking a bit pale, said, "Yes, tootsie roll, but at the bar
they have those special hors d'oeuvres that are really delicious...I won't be to long...I'll be right back...I promise. OK?"

"You want hors d'oeuvres, poochy poo?"

She opened the oven and took out 5 dishes of different hors d'oeuvres: spicy chicken wings, pigs in a blanket, fried mushrooms, pork strips, cheese dip, the works.

But sweetie, at the bar...you know...the guys are cussing and swearing..."

The wife replies, "You want cussing and swearing, cutie pie?

THEN LISTEN UP, DICKHEAD! DRINK YOUR FUCKIN BEER, IN THIS GODDAMN FROZEN MUG, AND EAT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SNACKS, BECAUSE YOU AREN'T GOING OUT WITH YOUR FUCKED UP FRIENDS ANYMORE! YOU GOT THAT, ASSHOLE???"

Tuesday, August 5, 2002

sydney moon   I   lexus   I   veronica zemanova

It’s nice to come back and ride on roads you remember from childhood. I wasn’t much of a cyclist back then I’m afraid, we rode because we didn’t have cars. As soon as we were old enough to drive, it was bye bye bike. Kids rode bikes, we drove cars. So it goes.

I took the back way down to the Delaware river today, down roads totally untraveled by the masses. I didn’t see one other car for one ten miles stretch. Perfect. I crossed over into New Jersey, rode around a bit, came back on a different bridge and just wandered around for two hours. Good times.

I’ll think I’ll do the same thing tomorrow. I’ve got this one hill in mind, a real son of a bitch. I’ve never ridden it, only seen it once from a car seat. It’s one of those, I can’t believe they paved this roads. I can’t wait. It’ll probably break me in half. But, maybe that’s OK.

From: stephen Subject: the history of the bike Hello Mr. Drunkcyclist, I just wrote the history of the bike; www.mygem.net/stevedonohue. Its true I tell you. I’m from england (small island in the atlantic) and Cornwall is a county famous for inventing the bike and also the pasty. Keep up the good work

The humidity here in unreal. I thought Iowa was bad. This is worse. Hard to believe, I know. Trust me. It’s like a mist is always in the air, so think you could cut it with a knife. It’s pretty fucking sick, I’ll tell ya that much. I won’t miss it for a minute when I get back to Arizona.

And this’ll make your head spin something fierce.

Monday, August 5, 2002

devinn lane   I   yana cova   I   lana lotts

Drunk as shit at my parents house in Pennsylvania. They way it’s supposed to be my friends. Drinking Dad’s 18 year old Glenmorangie like it's water. Yeah Dad.

Another week, another flight across the country for this drunk cyclist. I’ll probably be riding off a hangover tomorrow. But you know what? At least I can.

Its fun having a porn site when your ma goes to church every Sunday to pray for you. Even better when you’re stealing her phone line once she’s asleep. I am going straight to hell.

My man Dan sent this in and you should read it. Click here to see just what I’m talking about.

Sunday, August 4, 2002

she likes girls   I   nice adidas   I   niki nova

All week long people have been telling me to talk more about Ragbrai. Type up some of what happened out there on the road. Spill the beans.

I’m only now starting to remember half the shit that happened. It’s like this, when that much shit is going on all around you all day for a week, things start to blur together. I’ll be thinking, did that happen on Tuesday, or Thursday?

In the final analysis, does it matter? Fuck it. It was Ragbrai and it was great.

I met the lunatics from Team Evil, in all black mind you. I hung out with Fitness Lynn, who will break you in half. I drank beer with King Kelly, one of the coolest dudes you could ever hope to meet. I stayed at houses where not only had the hosts seen my site, they fucking loved it and requested stickers. No shit on that one. Unreal.

And here I thought I was balls deep in the bible belt. I figured they’d just as soon hang me as give me the time of day.

I sprinted for city limit signs with Cuth and actually got one or two. I chatted up 40 year old strippers at the bar. (that is a fun one) I ate more damn pork than I ever thought I could and lived to tell about it. I slept on the ground and showered with a garden hose. I smelled like, felt like and rode like hell on wheels.

In most of those small, midwest towns, the local fire department fires up the friggin’ air raid siren at noon. You can hear it from miles around, leaving no doubt that is now indeed Miller Time.

I was drunk as shit almost everyday by noon. Glug, glug, glug. I’ve never seen mixed drinks as strong as they pour ‘em in the midwest. Good times.

Here, read this.

From: julie Subject: bunch of bullshit hey jonny here's a great story for ya. a group of us were riding our bikes to a party the other night when a car starts swerving at some of the riders of the group. well, they end up hitting one guy. it tacoed his back wheel and he flew over the front of the handle bars. their sideview mirror fell off in the process. we are able to get the license plate info from another car that was cut off by this driver. she also called the cops. here's the great part. the good ol' durham police department won't do anything about it because all the driver has to say is that she lent out her car and that she wasn't driving it at the time. isn't that just dandy. i didn't really mind cops before, but now i can't stand the pigs. so, i guess it's ok to commit crimes around here because all you have to say is "it wasn't me."

How much does that one piss you off?

Cars suck it. But, I guess I’m preaching to the choir on that one, eh? It’s not like anyone who reads this page is an SUV driving soccer mom. Or maybe you are, and that’s OK. ‘Cause I like people and people like me.

If ya have ten years to waste waiting for a download, my man Zeke thinks you might like this.

And in the "you’ve got to be fucking kidding me" category, read this.

From: jason Subject: beer investment If you had bought $1000.00 worth of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.00. With Enron, you would have $16.50 of the original $1,000.00. With Worldcom, you would have less than $5.00 left. If you had bought $1,000.00 worth of Miller Lite (the beer, not the stock) one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the 10 cent deposit, you would have $214.00. Based on the above, my current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.

Works for me.

Saturday, August 3, 2002

lexy   I   amber michaels   I   chasey lane

One more hour on the fixey this morning and this week is officially in the books. Done, kaput, finito.

Yee haa. What the fuck is this?

Um, death metal karaoke.

Tomorrow I’ll be back in Pennsylvania, in the house I grew up in. It’s always good to go back and see where you came from. How will you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve been?

That and I get to drink a bunch of Yuengling Lager. Everyone has to do something, right?

Go check this site out, it’s called flat state bmx. Pretty self explanatory really. I’m not sure which flat state he’s referring to, but does it matter? There are so damn many of them. I’m gonna say Florida and not Iowa. I’ve got Iowa on my mind lately, I wonder why?

So, did anyone out there get the Lohan Solo Project mp3 to download? I’m guessing not. Fucking God damn bunch of shit, I’ll tell ya. It’s a good mp3, worth your time. But I’m afraid all you folks on dial up are straight up screwed.

Oh I know you’re gonna love this one. Holy shit what fun. It’s game time mother fuckers. Just click over here for Watch Out Behind You Hunter!!!!. Hell it’s even fun to loose. Um, nothing.

You might like this. Yeah, it's a test. Kinda. Sorta.

1. In the company of females, intercourse should be referred to as: a) lovemaking b) screwing c) the pigskin bus pulling into tuna town 2. You should make love to a woman for the first time only after you've both shared: a) your views about what you expect from a sexual relationship b) your blood-test results c) five tequila slammers 3. You time your orgasm so that: a) your partner climaxes first b) you both climax simultaneously c) you don't miss SportsCenter 4. Passionate, spontaneous sex on the kitchen floor is: a) healthy, creative love-play b) not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend could ever agree to c) not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend need ever find out about 5. Spending the whole night cuddling a woman you've just had sex with is: a) the best part of the experience b) the second best part of the experience c) $100 extra 6. Your girlfriend says she's gained five pounds in the last month. You tell her that it is: a) impossible - she looks too gorgeous! b) not a problem, she can join your gym c) a conservative estimate 7. You think today's sensitive, caring man is: a) a myth b) an oxymoron c) a moron 8. Foreplay is to sex as: a) appetizer is to entree b) primer is to paint c) a line is to an amusement park ride 9. Which of the following are you most likely to find yourself saying at the end of a relationship? a) "I hope we can still be friends." b) "I'm not in right now, please leave a message at the beep." c) "Welcome to Dumpsville, population, YOU." 10. A woman who is uncomfortable watching you masturbate: a) probably needs more time before she can cope with that sort of intimacy b) is uptight and a waste of time c) shouldn't have sat next to you on the bus in the first place Score 1 point for every answer "a" Score 2 points for every answer "b" Score 3 points for every answer "c" Your Score 10 points: You are a saint, a liar, or a eunuch. 11-20 points: You are an average joe. Good luck in the battle of the sexes. 21-30 points: You are a real man's man. Your fear of intimacy with women and your love of men's sports screams latent homosexuality. You need a nice she-male dominatrix to teach you respect. 31-40 You can't add.

Um, maybe I didn’t score so well. Maybe I scored great. It’s all a matter of perspective.

Friday, August 2, 2002

veronica vanoza   I   sydney moon   I   tera patrick

Well shit fire, I rode today. It wasn’t much, mind you, only an hour on my fixed gear Fuji, but fuck… A least it's something. It wasn’t easy either. I haven’t ridden since I got back from Iowa Monday night. It’s been a long, hard week or recovery.

At times I thought I’d never get out of this big old hole I dug for myself last week.

It’s amazing what 500 miles and 15-20 drinks a day will do to a fella. And when I say fella, I mean me. And when I mean drinking, I mean like circle the wagon, hide the sheep, dive on a hand grenade boozin’ it up like a mother fucker.

I can see how alcoholism starts. I just drank beer all day for a week solid. And felt good about it too. I miss it already.

One of the days, I don’t remember which one, it was windy as all hell. It always seemed to be coming across us somehow, right, left, something. Everything was blown all over the road, total fucking chaos. So, we’re already downing the drinks, drunk by noon, like we did every damn day. No big deal, right?

Well after about two and a half hours of riding, I check my computer for shits and giggles. We had averages 19.7 mph. Now, that might not seem like much for a regular group ride, or a race, but a fucking booze cruise? With cross winds like that and about 5 guys riding to beat all hell, I thought it was pretty cool.

Fuck it, we’re trying something new around here this next week. I’m leaving for Doylestown, PA. on Sunday morning and I probably won’t be able to update all that much when I’m on the road. Nothing unusual so far, I often fail to get online for large parts of my road trips. But this time I’m gonna throw the gnome at ya.

That’s right, expect a whole lotta gnome around here next week. He’s cement, he’s in the garden and he’s pissed the fuck off. Personally, I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.

It ought to be like a bomb went off around here.

I fully expect to come home (now there is an interesting word for a vagabond such as myself: Home) I was saying, I fully expect to come home to all kinds of trouble. Maybe even some jail time. Yes, your honor, I realize it is my website, but I didn’t post the pics of any 14 year old girls. Yes, I did look at them, maybe even pleasure myself a bit. You know how it is, these things happen.

I’m fucked. And so are these people. Wanna read some true porn clerk stories.

Check out what some of the dc fans out there sent to our friend Dimitri Vassilaros, who doesn’t like bikes on his roads.

From: deebo Subject: cars vs. bikes You dumb bastard. Bicycles have a LEGAL right to the road. You can look it up. Just like Tractors, horses, Amish, and "slow children." It is the ignorant opinion of semi-retarded couch potatoes like your self that causes much of the misconceptions and the conflicts between cyclists and drivers. Automobile Drivers do not own the road. Get it through your thick dome. Because you drive a resource guzzling, polluting coffin on wheels doesn't entitle you to anything. You have to yield to slower vehicles. To horses, backhoes, to street sweepers, to cyclists, to Amish carriages, to farmers herding sheep. Deal with it. Slow down and take the extra 30 seconds to get past the riders. What, are you afraid that the liquor store will run out of Budweiser? That the 7-11 will run out of Lotto tickets? Get over yourself, NOONE is that important. You Ass.

You think that’s good. Check out this one. Better get something to drink and get comfy, this may take awhile.

From: "Mr. Insensitive" Subject: My other ride is your Mom Dear Dimitri Vassilaros, Ernest Hemmingway once wrote "a bicycle is a splendid thing". Are you calling Papa a fag? What's your f'n problem? You don't have anything important to write about so you throw rocks at a group of people that improving their health and cutting down on pollution in one neat package? Or is Pittsburgh so culturally retarded that bashing kids on bikes is important enough to make the pages of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review…… Is that a real paper? If you weren't so busy talking out your ass you would have tried to understand the subject before writing about it. For example, in most states bicycles are subject to the same rules of the road as cars. $300 for running a stop sign on a bike?? You betcha. Drunk driving, of course. Insurance, not mandatory but a really good idea. License, in most large cities. In Huntington Beach Ca. your unlicensed bike can be impounded. Taxes for building roads, commercial drivers pay a large portion of this not only in their fuel consumption, but also special excise taxes imposed on them. Besides that bikes don't need roads that are ten lanes wide and three feet thick. In WWII the undermanned, under armed Polish army held off the Germans for several weeks, using primarily swift, silent and efficient bicycles to move their troops. During this same war, fuel was rarely available. All over Europe lazy aholes like you gave their eye teeth to have a bike to flee the German onslaught. Anyway, you suck, your opinions are worthless, and you look like a weenie armed, bald, momas boy that will probably to be bitch-slapped to death by a small army of sick whores. Thanks for your time.

And just so you don’t think this is over, ‘cause it ain’t. Get yourself another beer and read this.

From: Josh Subject: That Guy… Dude, big fan of the site. Not a great deal pisses me off. I'm a pretty laid back guy...but those two fucking guys writing about our sport as if they had a clue sent me over the top for some reason. Maybe I just need a drink or maybe I didn't do enough intervals today to properly chill me out. Either way...I formulated a little response the Borges ass-hole. Here it is. I don't get outraged about much at all. Mr. Borges' article, if one can call it that, about Lance Armstrong has given me the rare opportunity to be incensed like I haven’t been since around 11:00 am EST September 11, 2001. I wish that my mediocre opinion on something I knew nothing of could earn me a living. Mr. Borges' should offer the entire cycling world, Lance Armstrong, and his countrymen an apology for his outrageous article. I am quite impressed that Mr. Borges can form such erudite paragraphs while hallucinating the facts. His knowledge of sport seems to be about as intact as Saddam Hussein’s understanding of human rights. This all must be a side-affect of Mr. Borges’ lobotomy. Now I’m not saying that Mr. Borges is lobotomized. He may be and he may not be. But since I really know nothing about him and the only data I have pertaining to his psyche is the 'soda straw' glimpse I have gained from this article, I must conclude that he is. Now if this is a silly conclusion, than how does Mr. Borges consciously defend his claims in disputing the athleticism of Lance Armstrong and accusing him of doping? Mr. Borges sounds like French prosecutors all accusation and nothing substantial. I am a Naval Aviator by trade and have been landing large, fast jet aircraft on the pitching deck of an aircraft carrier for the last five years. I’m sure Mr. Borges would tell me that I am simply doing (at night, in a thunderstorm, with the flight deck moving up and down 20 feet) what any airline pilot does, just in a smaller amount of space. I am sure he would further inform me that my job although fairly technical, isn’t actually "Difficult" and that there are much better pilots out there. Well, I know on any given day he is probably right. I’m not the best pilot. Armstrong isn’t necessarily the best cyclist. But I can guarantee Mr. Borges’ lobotomized head that on certain pitch black nights on the Western Pacific, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea…me and my team of fellow aviators were the best damn pilots in the whole world, even if it was just for 15-18 seconds. Lance Armstrong isn’t the greatest cyclist/athlete on any given day either. But because of what he does in the tour EVERY year…he is the best. He is creating himself into a legend as a cyclist and as an athlete. Mr. Borges would probably tell me that those weren’t real Iraqi bullets either, but I digress. Why am I so outraged? Well for starters I’m a cyclist. I have been racing off and on for ten years. More on these days and I spend 16-20 hours a week training in order to perform with 50% of the skill and power Armstrong and other professional riders have. I have glimpsed the demands of what it must take in order to train for and to win a Grand Tour. I’m sure Mr. Borges couldn’t even tell me which are the Grand Tours. As some have already mentioned, the dynamic and dramatic stage that the Tour de France is played out on is one of the greatest and most demanding of any in sport. Many of the skills and attributes required to excel in Le Tour have been addressed by other outraged and soon-to-be-former-readers of MSNBC. One thing that has not been mentioned is leadership. Teams perform in the Tour de France and not merely individuals. Lance Armstrong has led four great teams through the Tour’s THREE WEEKS of racing and all four times has come out on top. Mr. Borges fails to recognize that no other sport requires the ‘star’ to also be the leader of eight other men (last time I checked Quarterbacks don’t lead the defense). Lance Armstrong is such a great athlete and leader that he is now the Patron of the peleton. Nothing happens within this large group of cyclists without his permission. A Patron has not existed in the Pro Peleton since the days of Bernard Hinault (Miguel Indurain will have to forgive me, but rumor has it that he was always too mild mannered to assume the role). Armstrong’s team this year was also heralded as perhaps the best team in the modern era of cycling. The team that conquered this tour was not without its American stars either. Brilliant rides were handed in by both George Hincapie an Floyd Landis (a newcomer to US Postal this year). It disheartens me to see their accomplishments diminished by such ignorant remarks about their team leader. What really bothers me is this. Mr. Borges’ opinion signals to me not only an ignorant but dangerous tone. We, as Americans, are lampooned throughout the world for our short-sightedness and cultural isolationism. If Mr. Borges’ would jump on a plane and travel the world a bit he would see that just because ESPN isn’t covering it, doesn’t make it ‘a fringe sport’. I would encourage him to open up the sports pages of Italy, Belgium, France, Germany, Columbia and see how cycling is covered. Better yet, just get a copy of the International Herald Tribune. Actually, don’t bother…I don’t want you getting interested in the sport I love. I find his opinion dangerous because it confirms to the world at large that we as Americans don’t care what happens in our world, either politically, culturally, or in their sports. Well Mr. Borges I hate to break it to you, but WE are the center of cycling now because our ‘skinny’ kid from Austin (Plano really) is now the center of the cycling universe. All eyes are turning to America for the next Armstrong….maybe its Floyd, perhaps its Levi Leipheimer, Bobby Julich, Tyler Hamilton or maybe it’s a guy racing on the American pro circuit (did you even know that we had one of those Mr . Borges?). We are about to become this sports epicenter…like it or not. And to quote one of my heroes… "…but that’s just my opinion. I could be wrong."

It’s amazing really. I just can’t stop cutting and pasting. Too much good stuff. Talk about a letter campaign.

From: Moffet Subject: Anti-Bicyclist I have trouble understanding why people have such a strong resentment towards bicyclist and the sport of bicycling (yes it is a sport and it is athletic). I have a driver’s license, pay taxes, have insurance, pay licensing fees, and buy gas for my truck (a big late 70’s V8 domestic). I have paid for the local, state, and federal highways just as much as any other citizen has. I ride my bike to as many places as I can because it saves money and it keeps me in shape. Plus it’s just a lot of damn fun. The attitude that most drivers have is one of "I’ve got the larger vehicle, therefore I own the space you are in", and if you are on a bicycle you always loose in this contest of most tonnage. The majority of the time I ride on the rode, I follow the traffic laws as if I was operating a car. But occasionally I ride with a caviler attitude not because I like to flaunt a disrespect to traffic regulations, but because motorist don’t treat me with the same respect as if I were in a car. It seems that the prevailing mind set in America is one of "I have a right to consume and do what I want, but you can’t do what you want if it’s inconvenient to me" i.e. slowing down your 10 mpg SUV (read station wagon) and loosing two seconds to pass a cyclist. As for if riding a bicycle is a feat of athleticism, just get on a bike and go for a REAL ride not just around the block. If Mr. Borges rode 30 miles on the road in an hour or rode 10 miles of hilly, rocky single track I imagine that he would not profess the same negative feelings about cycling. Mr. Borges asks how fast Lance Armstrong would be if you took him of his bike. Could Lance best a world class runner? I haven’t seen Lance run, but I would guess no. But Lance Armstrong is not a runner, he’s a bike rider. Would Barry Bonds be able to compete with Lance? We saw what happened when Michael Jordan tried to switch sports. I would also guess that if you asked Marion Jones, Jerry Rice, the Williams sisters, or any other "true" athlete that they would acknowledge that not only is Lance Armstrong a phenomenal cyclist but also an accomplished athlete. I could go on and on about these subjects, but I’ll stop here. Keep up the great site. I always get a laugh or find something interesting/degenerate/naked.

Oh God, I gotta stop. Do ya’ll get an idea of what my inbox looks like most days? I get a whole lot of spam, a couple of virus’s and tons of real cool stuff. Good times, I tell ya.

This is a good one, it’s the bike Iowa webpage. Lots of good stuff to read and some pics too. Check it out.

Thursday, August 1, 2002

zdenka   I   eva crawford   I   kyrstal steal

Holy shit, back online. Thank you jesus. Good looking out, kid.

I’m going to be making some big changes around here. Half the fucking videos won’t work, most of the mp3’s are in the shit box and I’m sick of it. I can upload to my hearts content and fuck it, nothing works worth a shit.

I don’t know if its a server issue, bandwidth or fucking elves. All I know is that’s it’s more trouble than it’s worth. My moneys on the elves. Evil little bastards they are.

I won’t pull anything down for at least another few weeks. Download at will until then. But sooner or later, I’m pulling the plug on that shit. Fuck it.

Speaking of "fuck it", my man Big Gay Randy is making huge strides in the "I’m not really gay" department. He didn’t come back from Iowa with Vlade, Nik the Dick and myself. He stayed on the bike and is heading for the Atlantic.

And, yes, a woman is involved. Two people, two bikes and one tent. The lord works in strange and wonderful ways, does he not?

Let me put it like this. I had $130.00 in my wallet at the end of the week. I gave him a hundred and said have a good time. Go, baby go. Go for all of us that can’t.

It’s a beautiful thing, man. I just can’t even tell ya.

Blame it on the black star, blame it on the falling sky…

Check out the Desmoines Register Ragbrai page for some pics. I’m getting some curbside net time about the fourth pic in on Friday. Hell, just click here and make it easy on yourself.

Also check out fitness lynn’s site. I can tell ya first hand, she is a hell of a lot of fun. No clothes, no problem. She’s even got a pic with me in it. And, yes, I was drunker than hell.

I tell ya, I just can’t wait for next year.

I’m already getting a few pics here and there via email, and I think I’m getting a whole frigging cd full in about a week. Happy days are here again.

Holy shit it’s hot in Phoenix. Man oh man. This blows. In about four more days I’ll be out in the Philadelphia area slacking supreme. It’s what I do best. Then it’s down to Tucson for me, yes sir.

Fuck it. Did I already post this? Either way, fuck it.

Starting this month out right, my man. Check out these search strings that have led to drunkcyclist so far in the month of August. These never cease to amaze me.

• bmx racing yuma
• asiaxxx
• drive from denver to phoenix
• free dental hygienist porn pics
• hot talk on sex numder (spelling unchanged from original)
• jenna jameson rules

Oh, yes she does.

Someone, somewhere on a much more entertaining website called this a link dump. It works. Have at ‘em boys.

www.forbes.com/1997/08/08/column.html
yonkis.ya.com/yola/silicona.htm
groups.yahoo.com/group/lesbian_fun
www.boners.com/grub/381223.html
www.pussyclose-ups.com/pics
www.pussyclose-ups.com/pics2
www.pussyclose-ups.com/pics3

These two links deserve some special attention. Let me first say, both these guys totally suck. Fuck the both of them.

These both got sent to me while I was away, and I assume many of you have already seen them. But, read them again and sent these dumb son of a bitches some proper hate mail. It’s just the right thing to do.

First up, cars don’t belong on the road with cars. Yeah, yeah, fuck you buddy. Cars are fucking coffins. Walk, bike, something, anything other than driving all over the damn place. Asshole must own stock in GM and Exxon or some shit. I’m really fucking sorry the 12 seconds it took for you to slow down and pull around me made you spill your latte. Really.

Maybe he’ll get run down my a bus and he can die happy?

And this dumb son of a bitch thinks cyclists aren’t athletes. Among other things this guys doesn’t get, because he needs bright colors and a shiny ball to maintain his attention, is that cycling doesn’t include "defense".

He also says, "Armstrong’s 4th straight Tour impressive, but it’s not athletic" and "For my money, being the greatest athlete in the world involves strength, speed, agility, hand-eye coordination, mental toughness and the ability to make your body do things that defy description."

Yeah, sounds good. I’ll bet you’d like to see that first hand, huh?

It’s like this, Ron, you come on out to Arizona and I’ll make sure you don’t finish any race you enter. I’ll hook ya, pull your jersey, give ya a taste of my big ass in your bars, and put you straight in the fucking gutter. You won’t even know what hit you. I can assure you of that. I’ll be all over you like stink on shit.

And then maybe you’ll understand a little bit more about cycling.