After a whole lot of lazyness on my part, I’m ready to unveil the new booze masters forum. I don’t know what it was before, but now it’s a message board for selling bikes. Shit like that, you know what I’m talking about.

So check it out and use it. It’s 100% free. You can link pics as long as you got that image uploaded somewhere. The more you guys and girls use it, the more exposure it gets and the faster shit sells on it. I’m sure you get the general idea.

Hey, it’s a start. Why do I call it boozemasters? Why not? I mean, damn near every other catchy name is taken, so fuck it. Booze needs a master, and that master is me.

I’ve got a new site of the week, fun flash. Where was this when I drove to Denver last week? The one I want is the "fuck you buddy" card. I like to spread the love when I’m driving. Oh yeah.

And don’t miss the chatroom excerpts. Funny ass shit.

Did I link this already? I can’t remember so fuck it. Someone sent in the link, so I should share it, no?

From: AJ Subject: ride thoughts I have some thoughts on the flat system. I have a better idea. Go to home depot buy two push broom heads. Zip tie them to the front fork legs. That way you will sweep a clear path as you ride. I say this because I broke my longest streak of no flats today. Almost 6 weeks with no flats. Till today. Do people use trash cans or just throw their glass in the street? Fuck me! I must have rode through 15 piles of glass shards today. Karma would have it that the day I see you and we discuss the "system" I get a flat. Half a mile from home no less. So here I am thinking I can ride this one out. In the meantime my tire is shooting out air faster than RJ on Cytomax. That idea dies a horrible death. So I stop to fix it. No problem I have a tube, pump and patch kit, right. Only the spare tube is a standard stem. This puppy takes the big long ones [60mm]. So much for the replacement tube. Let's fix the old one. I break out the kit. Made in Germany, directions in 5 languages except English [not like I need them to change a flat]. Tube of glue the size of a toothpaste tube. Cool thing about riding in 110 degree heat is it only takes glue about 40 seconds to dry. Took me 3 applications to get the patch on the tube. It is taking me longer than it should. The neighbors are getting suspicious, mongrel dogs barking at me don't help. They must have thought I was a king size blueberry pop tart the way they carried on barking! WWF and mongrel dogs. Yep I am in suburbia. Living the dream.

Um, AJ rules full stop. Marco sends in this fine this fine link. Kinda makes you think, doesn’t it?

I also added a link to dirt rag ‘cause apparenly I hadn’t already. And here I thought all along I was already linking them. What the fuck do I know?

From: amy Subject: hey hello 'jonny,' i just wanted to say that i think your site kicks some serious ass. not that i look at porn all the time, but i believe the druckcyclist porn is a bit...different than what i'm used to seeing around (i am female), but you know, not everything is the same, and i think i enjoyed it. even though i dont ride, i still enjoy the sport of cycling (mostly road) and i appreciate it for what it is. i think the public needs to know that cyclists are not a bunch of lycra-wearing faggots that shave their legs and interfere with traffic. they are extremely dedicated to what they do (most of them), and are in amazing shape. for the guy who tried to stop the suv to defend himself...it would probably be a better idea to pick a fight that does not involve a two ton vehicle. small penises in large trucks are not to be messed with. good luck with that.

I’m glad to hear someone likes this shit. Jesus. Nah, I’m kidding ya. I can never have enough female fans. Never. Tell me what of the porn I'm posting did you like, and I'll post some more like it, just for you.

Sound good?

Here is today’s joke. I really have to update my joke page. But, that will involve work, I'm afraid. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’ working.

Two Arabs boarded a flight out of New York after a hockey game. One sat in the window seat and the other sat in the middle seat. Just before takeoff, an American got on and took the aisle seat.

After takeoff, the American kicked his shoes off, wiggled his toes and was settling in when the Arab in the window seat said, "I think I'll get up and get a beer."

"No problem," said the American, "I'll get it for you."

While he was gone, one of the Arabs picked up the American's shoe and spat in it. When he returned with the beer, the other Arab said, "That looks good, I think I'll have one too.

Again, the American obligingly went to fetch it and while he was gone, the other Arab picked up the other shoe and spat in it.

When the American returned to his seat, they all sat back and enjoyed the flight.

As the plane was landing, the American slipped his feet into his shoes and knew immediately what had happened. "Why does it have to be this way?" he asked. "How long must this go on? This fighting between our nations? This hatred? This animosity? This spitting in shoes, and pissing in beers?"

Saturday, June 29, 2002

asian hoti #4   I   sophie   I   kayla cole

Saturday, it’s a Saturday. Big deal, I was at work. Yippy kay ay, mother fucker.

I’ve decided Denver proper is a nightmare. The rest of the surrounding suburbs get the same level. Like a three foot putt, it’s a gimmie.

I’m driving in Denver, I cross Alameda Avenue. On the radio some moron is telling me about these two clubs, Voodoo and Sanctuary I’ve just got to go to. The hippest DJ’s and the hottest drink specials. Best thing in town, he says. Be there or you fucking suck, he says.

The have two popular and equally worthless clubs back in Phoenix by the same name. Where the fuck am I anyway? Are we as human beings really that uncreative? You have to name all this crap the same? Why not just call it the ‘meat rack’?

Oh yeah, that name is taken too. Some place down in Tucson. Will wonders ever cease?

Friday, June 28, 2002

chrissy m   I   tanya danielle   I   monica miller

Straight up crushed the Casino Arizona Buffet tonight. Murdered it. Killed it. It was great. I rock an all you can eat buffet.

Now Nic the Dick and I need to get up at like friggin 4:30 am to ride off all these calories. Jesus, that prime rib was good. And the salmon, and the halibut, and everything else. Man oh man am I ever stuffed.

What else we got today. Um, yeah, reader mail. By the ton.

I got a few emails last week about the 24 hours of Red Bull. I guess it was great. Happened over there across the pond and I missed it. The website was well represented by many a fan wearing dc jerseys and playing death metal all night. RJ woulda fit right in.

My fans, by the way, kick ass.

Heather lays it down. I think we can all agree with what she’s saying here. Read on, dear people, read on. I think we can call her a fan. She just might be the 5th female fan of the site. Could happen.

From: Heather Subject: rant Motorists beware.....cyclists are everywhere! My hope in writing this letter is not to antagonize any motorists or to feed into the stereotype that cyclists feel they own the road. This is simply to educate everyone behind the wheel of a car as to what it is like to be on a bicycle on the road. I must first clarify, I am a cyclist, I am not on a team or in a club, I am a cyclist. I actually got into cycling because my father, who is a bit more hard core, was riding in the Pan Mass Challenge (a 200 mile charity ride to raise money for the Jimmy Fund and Dana Farber). We have had so many family members and friends who have lost their fight or are still battling cancer, I decided that the PMC was something I HAD to do. That was it.....I'm hooked! I love everything about riding except for uneducated motorists. Don't get me wrong, I am a motorist just like all of you. As I have said to my father over and over again, "anyone going to get a driver's license should have to ride a bike on the road 10 miles before they can get it." To that, one of my coworkers responded, "well bikes should not be on the road." What exactly would you like us to do? Bike lanes, while becoming much more popular, still are not on every road and even if they are I would say 10% of drivers are actually cognoscente of them. Riding on the sidewalk is not a viable option since most side walks are too narrow, bumpy, debris laden and have low tree cover. Not to mention the fact that if am bombing down a hill at 30 mph on my bike, what is the pedestrian coming the other way supposed to do? So here they are my personal observations that, if abided by, would make it much easier for bikers and motorists to coexist. These are simple things that if motorist were more aware of they would have a better understanding of where we are coming from. Cleats. These are the shoes that about 60% of riders are now wearing. What some motorists may not realize is that the cleats have clips on the bottom of them that literally lock the rider into their pedal. The benefit to riders is that their pedal stroke then becomes more powerful (allowing them to get out of your way more quickly). The detriment to the rider is that it is more difficult to come to a sudden stop. If they are unable to unlock the cleat the rider will come to a complete stop, and promptly topple over. (I speak from experience) Honking. Don't do it.......EVER! Even if you are just trying to say hello to someone your recognize, honking can startle a rider causing them to get knocked off balance, turn around or just raise their heart rate by 15 bpm in 1 second. (Believe me I had my heart rate monitor on!) Red lights. When coming to a red light there is really no need to pull up next to a rider or better yet, try to speed up so you can pull in front of the rider to stop. Being first in line was cool when we were all in first grade, not so much anymore. Train tracks. Incredibly dangerous for any riders, believe me I speak from experience once again thanks to the tracks on a 45 degree angle crossing 135 in Framingham. We need to go perpendicularly over train tracks so that our 1" tire does not slide into the 2" crack of the train tracks. Just be aware that a cyclist is going to slow down and may go at the tracks at an angle but we are not planning on crossing the street right in front of your car.....I promise. Parking. When attempting to parallel park, do not pull ahead of a rider simply to cut them off and park. When sitting in your parked car, please check behind you for cyclists coming up along side your car. Don't get me wrong it is our job to watch for any such activity but if you have been sitting in your car for 5 minutes and we come along, we have no idea you are in there. When pulling out of a parallel parking spot do not "inch" out if you see a bicycle. Believe me, your inch is a foot and there goes my lane to ride in. Rudeness. No need really. To the gentleman driving the black super sized SUV down Beacon Street in Brookline Thursday night, there is really no need to yell, "get off the road". I know that it is rush hour and we're all trying to get somewhere but really, what have you accomplished? From other riders I have heard, "just flip them off", but then we come back to the problem of me being a genuinely nice person and polite young woman. Not to mention the fact that they are driving a 1 ton vehicle whilst I am perched atop a 20 lb piece of carbon alloy. What would I say to Mr. Super Sized had I the privilege? "I know that it is 6:30 PM in the heat of rush hour and you are in desperate need to get home in time for a new episode of COPS, however is it really so important to get annoyed with someone out for a ride? Not to mention that I am training for a 200 mile ride that raises money for cancer research so if you or someone you know are one of the 14 million Americans who has been touch by cancer I may actually be helping you out? Cut me some slack. Two minutes out of your day could actually save someone from a fall or a crash or worse......

Something I haven’t yet mentioned on the site yet, but I’ve talked about at length with damn near everyone else, is Mapei pulling it’s sponsorship of the worlds number one cycling team. Fuck me that sucks. I was riding in my Mapei jersey the day I heard the news.

It’s been talked about at length over at cyclingnews and velonews, dot coms doncha know. So, I’ve really nothing to add other than this sucks ass. It’s a grim picture for professional cycling.

This is me, by george bush.

Here is a link to a cool site called promechanics.com. It’s real boss, and I’ll be adding it to my bike section so you can check it out again later.

And here is a nice little linky poo send in from no other than Laura from Holland. It’s a girl, and she’s on a bike. And she’ll be damned if she keeps her clothes on. Click here to see it.

Thursday, June 27, 2002

sunny leone   I   bunny luv   I   amy easton

Am I ever going to ride today? It’s already 7:15 am. El Gnome-0 is already at work and I’m sitting around in his living room with a lap top. I am a loser.

But, the mornings in Tucson are nice. Splendid really. I’ll get the bibs on in a bit and the bike out of the truck and away we will go. Yee haa.

Here’s a good one.

From: Chris Subject: RE: Some freak that rides for Taylor Made here was bragging this morning about how he likes to run red lights to piss off drivers. He didn’t have a helmet on either. I wanted to jump his shit but refrained. I have a buddy that can’t feed himself because he ran a red light. Helmet has saved my life once also. I’m anti soccer mom too here in suburbia but that is just chin wag over a cup of coffee. This ego thing is way out of control.

I totally agree with you. I have had to tell a few people, sometimes even friends of mine, that what they’re doing on the bike isn’t making things better for the rest of us. When you piss off other people on purpose while cycling, you make me look bad.

That’s how I see it. If you blow a hiker off the trail, flip some guy the bird for no reason or cut off a car, I have to deal with the negative consequence of your actions. The next time that person you wronged sees another cyclist, like me, they are thinking one thing: Cyclists suck.

That’s how trails get closed. That’s how group rides get stopped by the police. That’s why things get fucked up.

Don’t hesitate to tell someone they’re not doing the right thing and why. It’s better for the rest of us in the long run.

I sound like a fucking Mormon over here with this "do the right" crap. Oh well, at least I’m trying to do something. Like look at porn for example. God Bless America.

From: Casey Subject: how’s the fuckin’ road ma man? It's a glorious day here in the valley. 110 degrees leaves my sack betwixt me knees. That's the little battle hymn in the land of the Burning Bird today. As I hit the ol' Pavo on my way to work today, that little tiny front tire of mine sliced it's way into a steamin hot patch of sackphalt. You know the feelin. The torch was first aimed upon my sexy eyebrows and they soon vaporized. The stupid little contacts in my eyes next dried up like cute ol' jellyfish on a skillet. Rounding the next corner, by now on the ASU campus, my packet began to fire, and I mean fire. Like some tweety crack-whore pressing a hair curler to my steaming loins. And then I saw her. A sultry creature, hair of brunette like you'd see on a hotttt brunette bitch, she sauntered down the sizzling sidewalk led by cocktip-purple-painted tootsie nails. Calf muscles WORKING IT just out the bottoms of those white, tight clam-dig-capri-pants. Work. Holy shit. I think I'm gonna purd. (pee & shit) The dong closet's eatin a fuckin banannnnnna? Good god. I nearly lost it as I saw the Ol' Cock Wash Curtains wrap around it and grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Anyway, see what the fucking heat does to a guy? Why do they want to do this to a guy? It started as a bike riding story, shit.

I do like my little road trips. The road is grand. Just fine, thanks.

Wednesday, June 26, 2002

alexa rae   I   autumn austin   I   sylvia saint

First off, you gotta go kill your boss. It’s fucking great.

Ran into a giant blue berry son of a bitch riding around Mummy Mountain this morning with Nic the dick. Heya doin’ blue berry? Damn guy should run for President. I’d vote for him.

We’re gonna go heavy on the reader mail here in a minute. ‘Cause I got lots of it. And when I say "we" I mean "me".

I get a lot of really great emails from a whole lot of folks out there. Some of it really blows my mind, makes me think about things, laugh like hell and say right on. It’s the whole spectrum. Here’s a taste.

From: ron Subject: not this year yo drunkcyclist as I sit here at work the 24 hour race at Albion Hills (Ontario Canada) is nearing completion. I was scheduled to ride in the solo class, as I've done there the last two years, entry confirmed and paid for back in the fall of last year. Then in January I find out I've got a heart condition and need open heart valve replacement surgery and while I wait for that, no more racing. a brand spankin' new custom built single speed just shy of its bottom bracket to be complete awaits. it would have done fine at albion hills, as it's been pissing down rain off and on the last three days and the place is a maladorous bog at the best of times. the thought of zipping along without the clank clank clank of sick mud-encrusted derailleurs brings a smile even as it turns into a kubler-ross trip at my not being there. they're going to put a pig valve in to replace my fucked valve, altho the date for the surgery isn't yet set. whether or not I can still eat ribs and bacon sandwiches without being considered a cannibal is the sort of grave concern that currently weighs on my mind, along with wondering when that freakin' bottom bracket will arrive and I can go hit the dirt with that new ride. next year? 2004? I'll be back, and I'll ride that baby under the glow of the moon and 24 hours' worth of endorphins will release like wild horses to run over the hills, along with infinte frustrations. meantime I'll ride to live, live to ride, as always

Here’s to wishing you the best in the upcoming months. I hope they find one hell of a pig heart valve for ya. And eat the bacon, man. That’s what it’s there for.

From: Chris Subject: Hey good site. Thought I’d add some perspective from so-cal. 43% gay by the way. The perfect male according to that site you posted. Don’t you love those guys who go straight to the "shut up and ride" card. RE: one of your e-mail-ins posted earlier You know who they are in the local group rides. They pretend not to have any interest in their bikes because they "just ride". However they do spend mad coin on the lightest shit. I asked some skinny fuck the other morning about his new Reynolds fork and he responded "I’m not a Techie", "I just ride". You know, the guys pretend that their jerseys and matching frames were given to them via the sponsors too. Anyone in this industry long enough knows that margins are slim and those who do get them free are an elite few and they don’t match the jersey. Dude, it is a club and I know you pay and I think it is OK so stop. Some of these guys are fit though I’ll give them that but stop talking about you already. It’s all about ..(ain’t nobody dope as me I’m just so fit and lean.. so fit and so lean, lean). Why can’t we just BS and laugh in the local group rides any more? I don’t care what you are going to have for breakfast every day till Christmas. Out here it’s like the fit guys want to hang and talk to the really fit guys but won’t give the time of day to the dude with two kids a business and a mortgage that shows up once a week and busts ass still in all his old shit. What is this, high school? I had five new so-called buddies because I dropped the pack one morning. This dude rode up to me and said that I could probable qualify for cat 1 next season if I went with him to some races off the radar just to place well. What??? I don’t think so…. This site rules because you aren’t afraid to admit that the tires on your bike are the things that make contact with the road. Keep it real, keep it fun.

This guy is hitting home runs all over the damn place as far as I’m concerned. Good job, now hit the showers slugger.

From: Johnny Smoke Subject: The end of the world Hey Jonny, Greetings from the fucked up North. I've got some disturbing developments from the world of DH racing to report. Do you want to dominate a pro cycling category? Justn hustle your skinny little ass down to your surgeon and get a sex change. That's right, some guy who couldn't compete with his manly equipment has traded it in for a spot on the WOMEN'S podium. Talk about sandbagging. As a devotee of the finest the female form has to offer, not to mention the long suffering racer thing, I know you'll be outraged. UCI and the Canadian Cycling Association are such fucking pussies they are afraid to do anything about it. I guess this is the beginning of the end for pro sport. Fuck steroids and EPO. Just get your surgeon to approve it. Sure, chick racing doesn't pay as well, but what the hell. A gold medal is a gold medal. This link should take you to the discussion on a local bulletin board. bb.nsmb.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20302 Wanna cause some shit? I guarantee a response. Otherwise, have a look at these sites. No porn, but what could I show you that you haven't seen a million times anyway. This is my girlfriends site. She'd love a link. formatdesignworks.com/dirtygirl Try and keep up. If you ever want to take me up on that, check here... bushpilotbiking.com The finest redneck road trip experiences on two wheels. Bikes, beers, buds ( the broads are your problem). Have a swell day, eh? Johnny Smoke Bush Pilot

I don’t know anything about sex change operations and downhill racing and I don’t want to know anything about sex change opertations and downhill racing. Seriously.

And my man Mudflap just says it all so well. You go baby.

From: mudflap Subject: apparently, I’m a pussy… jonny, i don't really need an outside opinion on this matter, but i figured it was worth telling simply for the fact that we all need to be aware of this one simple truth. i was riding this evening at dusk, coming home from a good sprint around the hills of paradise valley. i came southbound to camelback road on 64th st, and when the light didnt change, i carefully crossed anyway. immediately afterward, the light turns green, and a green ford suv full of clown penises yells at me, something to the tune of "STAY OUT OF THE ROAD, FAGGOT!!". anyone who knows me knows i reacted by turning around and giving the double handed salute and yelling something to the tune of "COME BACK HERE ASSHOLE!!" as i am not to be fucked with without a good defense lined up. i waited, no suv. so i proceeded southbound on 64th, and a few minutes later i hear the throttle behind me, and before i have time to react, there are several objects flying at me from the passing boatload of baby dicks, as well as the phrase " FUCK YOU PUSSY!!!". to this, i dropped my bike, standing in the middle of the road completely full of adrenaline, waving fingers high in the air and yelling back whatever i could thing of, hoping that piece of shit woulld come back, so i could beat him and his friends until their eyes rolled back into their heads. now, i'm not a violent man, but here is my case and point. when i am sitting there in almost darkness, beckoning a huge suv full of who knows what kind of ass kicking to come back and tell me exactly what the fuck, wearing nothing but a leotard and tap shoes for protection, while they speed off anonymously into the darkness, i ask you all... WHO IS THE FUCKING PUSSY? thanks for your assumed support, your friend, mudflap

My man, what a bueatiful fucked up story you have sent me. I too have been harassed by the passing motorist. Always when I'm alone, never with even two riders. Talk about a cry for help. These guys need a hug or something.

Here are a few good links that came down the pipe. Have at ‘em boys.

blind porn
catfishcatfish.com
nsmb.com
BBW’s - To know them is to love them

Big women, yeah, by the truck load apparently. The guy who sent that last one apologised about it in his email. Fuck.

In the last two days at the shop I’ve glued on tubs getting glue all over my hands and smacked out on Acetone, converted a Campy nine speed lever to ten stabbing myself in the hand with a screw driver about ten times in the process and fixed countless flats. It was a hundred and sixteen degrees today and I pretty much want to shoot myself. I’ve got tomorrow off and I’m going to Tucson. Bye bye.

Tuesday, June 25, 2002

kitana barker   I   chloe jones   I   luna lane

My server went down yesterday for I don’t know how long. It seems to be all better now, so I’m just pleased as punch. Ged'y up.

I woke up with a bit of a hangover. Imagine that, me, with a hangover. Yeah, jonny likes the sauce. Could be a slogan for ragbrai.

Iowa can’t come soon enough.

I got up this morning at around six after hitting snooze three of four times. Just to piss off Nic. Alarm goes off and the mongrel horde we call dogs gets all gnarly and runs around the house barking and carrying on. Chaos, man. Fucking chaos. Nic’s a dick anyway, hence the nickname Nic the Dick, so fuck it. He can suffer.

Eventually I figured out how to climb into a pair of bibs and a jersey and get my fat ass out the door and on to a single speed. Whiskey river take my mind.

First hour on the bike, I felt like shit. Oh, maybe that last 24 ounce Guinness wasn’t such a good idea. Oh, my head. My fucking pounding head.

At around an hour and ten minutes everything changed.

I started to feel, good. Yeah, good. Great even. No more hangover. Well, looky there, it’s time to go to work.

I’m so stoked. I’d go even if they didn’t pay me.

Monday, June 24, 2002

sky lopez   I   zdenka   I   jenna jameson

Five new emails tonight and every last one of them is a variation of the W32/Klez.em virus. What the fuck?

Someone must really love me.

From: pistol pete Subject: fire Dude, it's as bad as they say it is.This freakin' fire is kickin' some ass.Flew over it the other day and didn't like what I saw.I was born and raised in fire country and have never seen anything like it.This is not a good time to go to the White Mountains.We're losin' a shitload o' good singletrack and the forest will be changed for our lifetimes.Send the positive vibrations to our brothers and sisters out there on the line.

I drove through a whole bunch of smoke and all yesterday on my way across from New Mexico. Friggin horrible. Looked like night at 4:00 in the afternoon. Unreal.

And the emergency evacuation warning kept coming up on the radio the whole time. I've never heard those things before, not when they were for real. They've always been a test

I only hope this shit ends soon. I can't even begin to imagine what this is gonna look like when it's all done.

I can’t even upload this because something with the server is fucked. Good times. Maybe tomorrow? I’ll try again in the morning. I need to start drinking now. Good night.

Sunday, June 23, 2002

chrissy m   I   aria giovanni   I   nikki nova

So I’ve been using this product for awhile now with good results. I can honestly say this stuff does what it’s supposed to. What am I talking about? It’s called athelete octane. I’d recommend you try some. And when you visit the website, tell ‘em big jonny sent ya.

My drive from Denver to Phoenix yesterday may have been the worst drive I’ve ever done in my life. You have no idea.

First off, I got a touch of food poisoning from a chicken burro on Friday night. Hey, it was fucking great when I was eating it. But first thing Saturday morning, I was on the pot crying for Jesus. You think that saved me?

Oh no. It did not.

I crapped the black angry mud, the penance of my sin, from gas stations in Pueblo to Winslow. I even had to pull over near Raton to ease my pain in the bushes. Good times.

I even pulled over once just to puke. I wanted to die.

I tried pulling over to sleep, but I felt so shitty I figured I might as well suffer with the AC on and be eating up some miles. What’s the point of sitting still? I’ve got to get to Phoenix sooner of later, and it’s gonna suck either way.

And if that wasn’t enough, the kick ass side winds were to much for my roof rack. The left front tower lost its purchase and ripped loose at about 85 miles per hour. Now she didn’t just up and quit, oh no. She went out draggin’ her nails, kicking and screaming. Fucked up the roof of my car something fierce.

The guy in the pick up truck next to me started honking his horn and waving his arms around widely. I knew what he was up too. I feared as much had just happened, my greatest fears realized. I heard it too, buddy, I’m just glad I can’t see it yet.

Heavy on the brakes and get this fucker off the road. Please, sweet Jesus, not the fucking Litespeed, anything but that. I’ll suffer the runs all the way to Tempe if you want, just don’t let my bike hit the deck. I’ll stop ever hour to blow hell fire lave out of me ass. Whatever you want Jesus, just not the bike.

Jesus took the deal.

Thursday, June 20, 2002

aimee sweet   I   zdenka   I   tanya danille

I made a new chatroom for the site today. It’s lame, pop ups and everything, but it is free. As my man Nic the Dick likes to day, "What’s my favorite word in the English language, jonny? That’s right, it’s free."

In the spirit of anything free can’t be all bad, have at the new chatroom before these ya-hoos at bravenet figure out this ain’t no milk and cookies site. This here’s porn, damnit.

Yeah, this thing will last three days tops.

Driving towards Denver. Fast. Passing cars like pickets on a fence. So close now I can smell it. Or, is that just more of the forest burning? No matter, it’s the same thing.

The lightning strikes in the distance are increasing in amount and severity. Strangely beautiful the way they light up the night sky and fade away like so much lactic acid. Enjoy the show boys, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

The wind is also growing fierce. Coming across the road at a right angle, it brings with it long pluming streams of dust and debris. I am almost used to it now. To the point where I keep the cruise control pegged and keep my line through the chaos.

The first few times the flotsam and jetsome of the high desert platio burnst forth in front of me I was a bit heavy on the brakes and steering for safey. It’s all smoke and mirrors once you’ve been through it a few times, nothing to it. Just tumbleweed, plastic and paper. Nothing that will harm this Buick missle. Full speed ahead.

Smoke, dust and mirrors.

It’s been like this the whole way up from Flagstaff. Fire. The orange diplaced haze, the faint smell of rebirth. To the south of me on I-10 in Arizona, to the west of me on 1-15 in New Mexico and all along Colorado’s front range, probably deeper too where my eyes can’t see. Smoke, where I am so is fire.

I just thank fucking God the San Fransico Peaks aren’t on fire. Figure it’ll happen someday. Been close a few times already. Real close. Damn shame. As stupid as people are it’s probably inevitable that we should destroy everything we love at sometime or another.

A theme that fits well into my conjugal visit plan for this weekend. Four days off work and one thousand miles leads to one worn out car and the promise of rug burns. His and hers.

And, I’ve a score to settle. Jeff tells me and everyone at work on Monday that he, and his wife I suppose, had sex on his in-laws floor this weekend. Proud as punch was he. Just positively beaming with pride.

Well, being a bit of a showman myself (do tell) and not one to back from a challenge, I have secured a weekend in my one in-laws condo in south Denver. Sans in-laws. They’re in Texas. I’ll whip up a tornado worthy of the name Texas or die trying. I plan on moving around some furniture and punching out a few walls. Hell, I might just burn the whole place to the ground around me while I take my wife, so to speak.

Forest fires got nothing on me.

I ought to just call the rest of this, things to do in Denver when you’re dead. I am totally and completely wiped out. I got nothing.

I guess I could go for a little spin. I wonder what my coach would say about that?

Hey Coach, should I go ride today? I don't really feel that good, like I haven't recovered enough. I was thinking I could just take it easy today. Jonny, you are a fucking pussy. Snake was right about you. You ain’t worth a shit.

Ever get chased by a dog? I have. Ever want to just shoot the son of a bitch? I have. Check this letter out.

From: dmonbike Subject: Vendi-fucking-cation! Oh man, was yesterdays ride glorious! I enjoyed the unseasonably cool weather for H-town (90 degrees, 80% humidity), rode the single over to the trail-head, proceeded to love tap the back wheels of all the fast guys while zoomin' through the trails, ya know, the ones with gears.. Ran into a bud of mine that lives close by and started the ride home. THAT's when it happened. Two canines like the hounds of Hades from outta no where. One comes running up between us snappin an snarlin, just as my right foot unclipped. One size 43 SPD right between the fuckin eyes! DAmn dog did an endo it hurt so much, then the other one stops like "What the hell was that!?!" Lemme tell you Jonny, it felt fuckin good. First time I ever hit one like that. Maybe he'll spread the news and none of us will get chased again!

Yeah baby, give that son of a bitch what for, and how and all that other shit too. Dumb bastards. I hope you knocked him (or her) into next week. You did that for the people!

Can you say whoops?

Wednesday, June 19, 2002

brianna banks   I   krystal steel   I   kitana jade

Oh my God, what just happened?

I started out on what was so be an easy ride, an easy day on an easy week. Yeah right. Wake up on Snake and Bensy’s floor. Strange house, strange town and strange friends. Drink coffee. Late for the Train coffee, the crack cocaine of the Mogollon rim country. Trade insults with Snake for a half an hour and then go meet the group.

Junior National what? Oh Lordy, I see dark days ahead. Snake grinning from ear to ear like some kind of demented mad man. I am heading for the pain cave, he tells me. And I believe him. These guys are serious. They don’t drink gin straight over ice like I do down in Tempe.

There are two things ‘ol Snake is seldom wrong about. One is poker. I think he wrote that whole know when to fold ‘em, no when to walk away and when to run bullshit. I’m still reeling from the monetary stomping I took at his hands last Thanksgiving up in Idaho. The second thing is pain. When Snake say’s it’s going to hurt, it often does. And a lot.

Good thing I brought my system wheels. First ride on them of any consequence, and the consequence shall be huge I’m afraid. I am in Flagstaff at 7,000 feet. I am riding with a bunch of fucking psychopaths. I am going to die.

It will be a slow, brutal death. My legs shall be slowly drained of all energy, like the way water evaporated off a Phoenix sidewalk after a monsoon. Indiscernible at first, but then rapidly drying out till there is not one hint of moisture left. That is how my legs will be. Empty, worthless, mine.

I am in the pain cave. At the 20 mile mark I am alone and going 7.5 miles per hour up a hill that probably didn’t even make Snake or the rest of those bastards stop talking amongst themselves for even an instant. I don’t even want to know how far this ride is. Forty miles, fifty? I hope it’s 21 and about to end in one last glorious mile of pain. Haley’s Comet has nothing on me. I am a bright burning streak of incinerating cosmic crapola arcing across a twilight sky. I am in flames. I am melting away.

But, I know where I am. This road is familiar to me. Hell, I just rode out on this road. It was downhill then. I should have known, I should have known.

I head back to the trailer, that glorious aluminum mothership. I need to shower, collect the dog and get the fuck out of here before Snake finds me. What I want to do is curl up in a ball and beg for my mother. I can’t take the verbal beating I’m about to receive if he finds me like this.

I’ve got bigger fish to fry. And many mile to go before I sleep, ‘cause tonight baby, I’m sleeping in Denver.

Tuesday, June 18, 2002

danni ashe   I   gauge   I   erica campbell

I guess I had actually wrote this on a Sunday morning, but does the day really matter? I mean, it’s telling no matter when I post it. At least that is what I think.

Oh, what glory the Lord has bought. I manage to make it from the bedroom floor where I slept last night to the bathroom just as the mud valve is released. Spewing forth the burning lava of next day redemption, I call out to, please, sweet Jesus, save me.

The beer shit.

Charles Bukoski wrote it was now that a man truly knew he was alive. All the senses of your being are overwhelmed and repulsed simultaneously. Eyes, ears, nose and throat too.

That last pitcher of luke warm, flat lifeless Budweiser you absolutely insisted on last night is now running a freight train to hell right through you. And he’s taking passengers along for the ride. Ever feel like you’re being turned inside out? That your guts are about to drop into the bowl? That your ass is really and truly on fire?

You to have known the glory of the beer shit.

And the only thing I’ve ever known that makes one bit of difference: Tucks medicated pads. Yup, the baby wipes. Ever see the commercial on TV where a guy puts out a match with one of these lifesavers? Trust me on this, they work and work well.

Go on and slather your singed and suffering ass with a couple of dozen baby wipes. And remember, beers don’t kill people, people kill beers.

Monday, June 17, 2002

zdenka podkapova   I   sydney moon   I   jodi

I messed up a link yesterday. My "friend" Jim pointed out my error in a very polite email. I never thought I was a donkey fucker. So here ya go Jimbo. The side view of yesterdays bizarre drivetrain bike. You stinking bastard.

Go check out your police history and FBI records here.

I got a flat tire a few weeks back on a Wednesday morning. It was much like any other flat. Air leaked out, curses were strung together in suck a manner as to impress the saltiest of sailin’ men. I pulled over and got out the spare tube and tire pump.

And then I saw it.

On the other side of the road, heading in the opposite direction was a group of riders. I didn’t recognize anyone in particular as my eyes drifted over the bunch. I unrolled my innertube and, wait, what was that. It caught my eye and held my gaze. Was that guy wearing a drunkcyclist jersey?

Holy shit.

I forget from time to time that, yes, I did sell a few jerseys, and yes, it would make sense that people wear them. But to see someone doing so, it’s just so weird. My jersey. Wow.

What does one do with this type of experience? You go home, get drunk and make yourself a set of system wheels.

What are "system wheels"? Well, gather ‘round children and unkie jonny will share. Ya see now, it all started many, many years ago in a mythical called New Mexico. People out there get plenty of flat tires and they were sick, just sick of it I tell ya. So what did they do? They ran the system.

With the system, you never flat. In fact, you don’t even carry a pump, tube, patch kit or tire lever. With the system you won’t need any of that stuff anymore. The only thing you get with the system is tough.

The first fella I heard to dabble in this nonsense was named Garreth. He may have been the first, and he may not have. He’s just the first I heard about. Big Gay Randy rode with him in Albuquerque and brought the system back to Arizona like some kind of disease.

Now, to really do it right, the ways these boys did, ya gotta be made of fucking steel. Ya git yourself a 20 - 23 mm tubular and ya full ‘er up with slime, presta seal of some other flat proofing gunk. Then ya get yerself a 25 - 28 mm clincher tire, preferably something really heavy, steel beaded, thick, unattractive, used, cheap, and shitty. Get ‘em both situated all cozy like, the tub inside the clincher like an innertube, and snap the whole she-bang on a clincher rim. Break six tire levers and three of your fingers in the process.

And not just any clincher wheel will do. No sir. You need something solid for this endeavor. I’ll talking 'bout pain here boy, this is the shit men do all winter, now listen up. Look at me when I talk to you, boy.

Git ya’ll self a set of heavy, thick, unattractive, used, cheap, and shitty wheels. Some of the best I’ve seen are a set of CXP 30’s, and an old set of spinergeys about a few thousand miles past true. Loose brakes and some wide ass chainstays mandatory with those bad boys. Basically something free and with as many spokes as possible. Find the wheels no one else will ride and make them yours.

I got me some God awful Fir rims laced up on Ultegra hubs with 36 straight 14 gauge spokes and brass nipples. They are tanks. God awful tanks. Then I got a set of Conti Ultra Gatorskin tires.

Now I cheesed out on one point. I didn’t use a tubular, I used a big ‘ol honkin’ TR tube instead. Now, before you condemn me as some kind of fucking pussy, you just know I ain’t the only one 'round here doin' it what way. It ain’t worth buyin’ a set of tubs for this little jaunt down to the hurt locker. This is all about keeping it on the cheap.

Another thing: I didn’t put a tire inside another tire. Some guys do that too. Take an old clincher and cut the bead off. Use it like a tire liner. You’ll be surprised how much it sucks. You'll learn to dread riding.

But, I'm no pussy. My front wheel weights over three pounds. The pair over eight.

I showed them to Snake and the only thing he said was, "What’s with the Ultegra hubs? These should be 105, tops. What are ya trying to do, lighten them up?"

I showed them to the Gnome and the only thing he said was, "These aren’t that heavy. You should put slime in them."

I showed them do Nic the Dick and he said, "I dunno jonny, I think mine are heavier. Nice try though."

I’ve decided not to show them to Big Gay Randy.

Sunday, June 16, 2002

chole jones   I   amy easton   I   gina ryder

Bikes, boobs and beers belong.

An uneventful Sunday morning ride in the books. Thank fucking God. I couldn’t have handled another one like last weekend. Too much bullshit for this fat guy.

Check out this horrible link. Just terrible. What can you say when something like that happens? What can anyone say?

I took the day off from the site yesterday and got swizzeled at Casey Moores instead. Straight from the repair shop to the bar stool. Good times.

And did my head ever feel good this morning. Oh God, why do we get up at 5:00 am around here? Are we fucking crazy?

No, we aren’t crazy. It’s either ride early of find a way to enjoy suffering through a randy little jaunt when it’s 110 degrees.

More car against cyclist tales. They just keep coming. And, we don’t really have to be to well versed in Shakespeare to know Othello gets the worst of it in the end, do we?

This one really sucks. Click here to read it. It’s just such a God damn shame.

And now, some reader mail.

From: chris Subject: your site Hey man. It's quite possible that I'm the only chick that actually checks this site somewhat regularly. The owner of the bike shop I work in told me about it but first prefaced the question with "Are you offended by porn?" Some of the porn links confirm my theory that men really are pigs, but I do enjoy your rants and the submissions of others. Here's a story with a happy ending for you, in keeping with all the US Pro banter: My friend Theo raced for a local team here in Jersey (no not Joisey, no one here actually says it that way). Last year while on a training ride one of our land barge driving friends (read SUV) was on the other side of the road and wanted to make a left turn. He decided that he could of course make the turn before the riders. Theo was leading out the group at that point at a cool 20 or so mph's. The driver badly misjudged the "toy riders" and made the turn anyway, causing Theo to go headfirst through the back passenger side window of the SUV. The glass cut his jugular, fractured his skull, and caused numerous other injuries. One of the other riders in the group is a local cop and due to his first aid Theo pulled through, despite having only 2 pints of blood left in his body after the cuts. He was in a coma for several days and had to endure a lengthy hospital stay, some physical and speech therapy, and future surgery to repair the scars on his face and neck. The driver was quoted in the paper as saying that the glare from the sun kept him from seeing the riders and that Theo had his head down, suggesting that somehow Theo was responsible for the big steel box just willing itself into the turn at that moment. Oh, and how exactly did he see Theo's head down if the glare kept him from seeing the rider? Sounds like a job for Unsolved Mysteries. Anyhoo...somehow Fred Rodriguez heard about all this and got in touch with Theo and said he wanted to meet my now recovered pal. Last week during the Trenton portion of the US Pro week, Theo got to meet Fred. On Saturday they met at Fred's hotel for a 40 mile ride, including some of the race route. I've enclosed a couple of pictures for you. Theo reports that Fred is a very humble and likeable guy. That's how we describe Theo, who despite coming within inches of losing his life showed absolutely no animosity towards the ass hole who turned in front of him. He's a better man that I would be, if I were a man. Keep up the good work!

Click here to see the first pic. And then click over here to see the second one.

Where do I start with such a letter? Let's see, from the top then, you are the third of three girls I know of that read the site. A very select group to be sure. I never really thought about my "target audience" or anything like that when I started this little pill party, so I'm always stoked to hear when someone like yourself (girl) can find some redeeming qualities in what I do.

But still all of you think I'm a fat stinking pig. I am.

The porn, oh the porn. Truth be told, I don't even think I notice the it anymore. I'm so friggin glazed over by now. People send me stuff that scares the shit outta me about, well, every day. Only some of it makes it to the site.

I am glad to hear you enjoy my rants. It's the best part for me, really. I've been told more than once I should try running a "clean" site, but it just doesn't see to work out as I have this problem with saying fuck shit cunt whore fuck shit fuck crap and the like all the damn time for no good reason.

It's getting better thank to medication.

Your story about Theo is pretty damn cool. I'm going to post your letter, hope you don't mind.

I'm glad to hear he made it through. Scary stuff, getting hit by a car. Sounds like he really took the brunt of it too. And thanks for the pics, I'll include them with the update.

I too wonder how the driver was unable to see the oncoming group of cyclists, but perfectly able to notice that, of yeah, his head was down. It's the ol' the cyclist wasn't watching where he was going line again.

Sniff, sniff. You smell that? It smells like bullshit.

We lost a real nice kid here in Arizona a few years back when a driver couldn't quite see what was on the road with her due to the sun in her eyes. Any charges filed? No. Because he was riding two abreast or some shit like that. That was bullshit too.

His name was Jamie Fallon.

Since I need some feel good shit right about now, I’ll throw a this at ya. Go spend some serious time over at mad dog media. It might just make the world a better place.

Pete sends in this link to a really fucking weird drivetrain. Weird. He says it coasts, and I believe him. Check it out for yourself. Click here for a side view and over here for the back view of this creation. And, hey, that’s a Shimano 600 crankset. God bless us all.

Oh, and about that big ass bear thing I posted last week. Turns out I don’t know my asshole from my elbow. Something like that. Read on, dear viewers, read on.

From: Michael Subject: The Big Bear Actually: This bear was killed down on Hitchenbrook Island by an airman stationed at Elmendorf. The bear measured 12' 6" and was estimated at over 1600lbs. The guy was walking to his hunting area and the bear stood up only 35 yards away. The bear dropped down and went straight for him. He emptied his gun and the bear fell 10 yards from him.

I’m just glad it wasn’t me that had to shoot that big son of a bitch. And I mean big. Fuck me big. Real damn big. You get the idea. Here are the pics from last week. Picture numba one and picture numba two. Big, scary big.

Friday, June 14, 2002

taylor morgan   I   devon   I   amy easton

I’m drunk and I don’t give a fuck.

Also, through the grace of God, I am linked on Velonews. I don’t quite know how that panned out, but I ain’t complainin’. Being on Velonews is cool.

Dru, Nic the Dick and myself enjoyed the gritty hospitality of Tony’s Native New Yorker tonight. What a shithole. I mean, really. That place is ghetto as all hell. The wings are marginal, the beer is flat and the service is cute but horribly dimwitted.

My personnel experience with the wait staff took a noser when Nic the Dick told our insecure 19 year old beer wench her legs weren’t that nice. I tried to save the moment by showing her mine to no avail. We were fucked.

No free drinks, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars.

God damn Nic and his girl repellent spray. The guy is trigger happy I tell ya.

I want one more parting shot before I pass out at 11:16 pm. I cannot, for the life of me, believe that over three thousand people look at this site everyday. Who the fuck cares what I have to say?

It blows my mind.

Thursday, June 13, 2002

chrissy m   I   szilvia lauren   I   taylor morgan

Oh fuck it all.

Check out this nightmare of a bike. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or some shit like that. But I ain’t seein’ anything but ugly. Oh my.

New link today, I heart bikes. Good stuff. I don’t know much about what they’re doing over there, but a sweet ass pic of some choice aspen tree grove single track sniggy gnar gnar (mountain talk for trail) is killer, brah. Sickter off the ricther.

Justin tells me I should be putting more on the site about how I’m riding and that sort of thing. I think he just wants to laugh at me. Well, Justin, I tipped the scales at 210 this morning. Just like I have for damn near every morning all year. I’m a big fat ass. And if you don’t like it, I’ll strangle you on the Sunday morning ride.

Can you hear me now? Good.

‘Cause that’s what we do now. We don’t laugh, we don’t cry, we strangle. Who knew Latrell Sprewell was a cyclist? I certainly didn’t. You wanna know what I’m talking about, go read this.

Can you hear me now? Good.

From: zach Subject: road rage Big Jonny, Its been awhile since I've had the time to sit down and cherish some ride gossip and great tits. I generally don't throw my 2 cents in, but this time I wanted to throw the pennies in the jar. I'm not sure about Arizona, but I can speak for my initial Nor Cali riding which has changed my riding style and WHO I choose to ride with. Being third person I can't speak for any of the parties of what they did or didn't do on your ride, but this is an account of my own. First the "group rides" vs the "dicks who say its a group ride and then go out and hammer" these are the same people who push away new cyclists interested in getting into the community as well as cycling in general. I have been in the cycling world all my life and my first time riding in Nor Cal, I came across a handful of riders that I thought were the type of guys I wanted to ride with. After they found out I was a tour guide logging mad mileage they set out to work together to kick my ass. Fine, but that isn't the ride I was looking for,I just wanted to get the lay of the land. The point is I never rode with them again, fuck em anyway. Instead I rode by myself until people found me. Its been 4 years since then, but now I have my crew of riders that is a good ride every time, we look out for each other, have fun, hammer but not to hurt the last guy just pump up the flow. I have come to realize that arrogant dick bike riders hurt the cycling world more than swerving, hackers. At least the swervers are some what fun to ride with, not to promote swerving. I understand racing and the need to ride with groups, I enjoy that part to, but if you know in advance the type of riders that are going to be there, keep your expectations low for your "group ride". Oh yeah, and a good trick for road rage. 1) carry a small messenger lock and throw it through there fucking window and if you don't have a lock, 2) at the next stop sign open the passenger rear door. Say no to Road Rage, and last if you feel as if you have some pent up road rage, watch some porno, masturbate and release. Jolly good show! Jolly good show!

I appreciate you taking the time to write in. I agree with what you're saying. People do need to just lighten up a bit. And I'll look into getting myself a messenger lock. And a can of mace. And a stun gun. Then I'll be set.

Can you hear me now? Good.

On a lighter note, read this.

From: casey Subject: just let the pictures speak Apparently this is the deal: The young man in the pictures is not some rich fuck from the Hamptons. He is a Forest Ranger in our great state of Alaska. This particular beast had been known to kill two-legged animals. Whilst on a routine round in the forest he was charged by the monster. It sounds like a tired reason to kill, but exactly what kind of sick fuck would go looking for this thing? The proof lies in the fact that it was killed not by a multi thousand dollar "bear shooter" but rather his forest service-issued 7mm pistol. ( Women of the night carry them in their handbags.) Apparently it took two full clips to bring the behemoth to a halt. Mr. Animal weighed in at 1,600 el-bees, and could clean out granny's roof gutters while standing on its hind legs. Perhaps the only thing larger than this creature was the pile of shit left in his Sorels. Good Lord.

Picture number one click here. Picture number two, click here.

Oh hell. Can you hear me now? Good.

More thought from across the pond on sales reps and corporate profits. Good stuff here people.

From: northwave Subject: redundant Hi Jon, Sorry to hear about that friend of yours. Sales reps are invaluable sources of information, especially on what's going on in the cycle trade in general. They need to be cherished and nurtured, not stabbed in the back and left by the way side. Same thing has happened to a few of the reps who used to work in our sales area. These big companies just don't get the bigger picture do they? Well they won't care too much as long as supergo is selling their product. If you hate this f***ed situation, you should read some of George Monbiot's work: www.monbiot.com As for the Pearl Izumi Philosophy to employees maybe we should tell them what we think: info@pearlizumi.com BTW Domenic's is still listed as a PI dealer on their website. Keep up the riding. For those of us in the UK it's now less than ten days until this, the highlight of the summer: www.redbullmountainmayhem.co.uk All the best from Manchester

You, redundant? No, never. Yeah Supergo. Weeeee. Monbiot.com is some good stuff, and that red bull mountain mayhem looks to be one hell of a good time. Thanks for writing in, as always.

What, you think I’m done? Can you hear me now? Good.

From: tall todd Subject: blurry FU photos and whatnot Hey Jon, What's happening? Been pretty busy here. I'm working for a bike shop that just opened a second shop, so we've been stretched thin in the personnel dept. If you know of any DC area people looking for bike shop work, send them our way. Just got back from the FU in Philly and it was grand. Here are a few blurry shots for ya. As the race went on and the pace increased, the photos got worse. I was on the outside of a sweeping curve up Lemon Hill with a crummy-ass digital, but hey at least it's something. As you know, the First Union is a reality unlike any other bike race this side of the Atlantic. Local TV has 5 hours of live coverage with Phil Ligget doing the announcing. The TV was giving tips on how you have to load up the cooler, get your cowbell and get out there and yell. Drinking in public was not only tolerated, but seemingly encouraged. I was enjoying a frosty alcoholic drink at the fence on Lemon Hill, while the policeman standing next to me was beating on a bucket and shouting "Go!, Go!" at the passing racers. As for the race.. What the fuck? Are we going back to the days where we can't even win our own championship. The pace was rocking. I saw Forbes hanging tough for the first half of the race. There was a splinter of 12-15 riders off the front, then Forbes was in the main field about 2-3 minutes left. Not sure what kind of pressure was put on, but it must have been tough. Next lap the splinter group's lead was under 30 seconds. Somewhere in that acceleration we must have lost Forbes. He came through on his own a bit after the main group, looking pretty beat, and that was the last time that we saw him. Tough break, as it looks like he kicked ass in the earlier races. He is in the middle of this group in photo 0056. Photo 0055 is earlier in the race as they are less blurred in the photo. If you peer into to middle of this group, you can make out the champion of Canada jersey worn by Marc Walters. At first I thought they were announcing that Marc Wauters had won, and I was much more excited. I would have put money down that Hincapie was there today. One of the last times up Lemon Hill he shot off the front and let himself get reeled in. It looked like he was testing the waters for later. Alas the entire race was marking him. I cannot confirm nor deny that 0066 is Hamfist. I thought that he was 163, but that fleshy blur just may be him. 0062 is one of the Posties, and if it's Tom Boonen, apparently he has decent sized, uncircumcised member. My friend Jon happened to be feet from where the peleton rolled over and took a restroom break. Apparently some these guys aren't just pros on the bike. I was always most resembling a frightened turtle in those situations, but most of these folks are not.

Wednesday, June 12, 2002

nikki nova   I   sky lopez   I   aria giovanni

No update yesterday. Sue me.

For the first time in three weeks, Nic the Dick did not hand me my ass on the Tuesday morning single speed ride. Oh no. Not this time, buddy. There was some ass handing all right. Just the other way around for a change.

He had his reasons (excuses). Like any of mine made any difference?

Some people don’t think I ride enough. Some people may be right.

From: Rob Subject: howdy from team bad boy in colorado cool site gang but we think that you all might want to spend more time on the saddle than bsing about your sorry ass experiences on the bike ride don't talk about riding team bad boy

Let’s see here. It’s Wednesday and I’ve got ten hours in already this week. Three on Sunday, an hour and a half both Monday and Tuesday mornings before work and four hours today. That ain’t half bad really. And the week ain’t over yet. I guess I can multi-task something fierce if I can bitch, moan and ride all at the same time. It’s a talent, yes I know.

It ain’t easy being big jonny.

This pic makes AJ proud to me an American. Me too, buddy, me too. Sniff, I love you man.

You want some cycling pics? Check this site out. Ton’s of pics, just tons. And he’s got a bunch of nice stuff from the First Union USPro race last weekend. Thanks to Bob for the link.

I got some more pics in the mail from the race. Give me to tomorrow to sort them out for ya.

This should be no surprise to anyone. Turns out Oprah fucking sucks. Like I said, no surprise to anyone.

Two words: Morning breath.

This is my fuck you letter to Pearl Izumi.

Most of you who work at shops in Arizona already know why Pearl Izumi now sucks dick. They didn’t a few weeks ago, when the had one of the south west’s best sales reps working for them. A man known far and wide for his professionalism, drive and honesty. In short a well liked and respected sales rep of may fine products.

But things change. Companies want to get bigger. Increase sales, open new markets. Sell shit on the internet, mail order and out of big box stores and fuck the Independent Bike Dealer who’s been shucking your gear for five years. Fuck the little guy, we’re going big time. And fuck anyone who ain’t playin’ our kind of ball.

A corporations only responsibility is in serving its stockholders. Isn’t that how it goes?

Well not around here, pardner. You fucked over, and I mean FUCKED OVER a good man. Hey you treat an employee that way, who’s to say you wouldn’t do any of us the same way? How many shops in Arizona are dropping Pearl? You can almost hear it in the wind. How many big accounts called you up this week and told you how big of a mistake you made?

I won’t sell your shit anymore. And I won’t pass up a chance to say how fucked up you guys are. And I mean FUCKED UP.

I own multiple pairs of bibs, shorts, mtb baggies, jerseys and socks because of mans commitment to making Pearl Izumi the best it could be. Yeah, I haven’t named him yet and I’m not going to. His name isn’t important. Just the fact that I’m pissed off is important. I can’t even wear your shit anymore without wincing. You bunch of pussies. You bunch of fucking pussies.

Any questions?

Monday, June 10, 2002

yana   I   marisa   I   brittany andrews

I hear from Nic the Dick that John Gotti died today. Fucking unreal. That guy was the best. The Dapper Don will be missed. That psycho.

Hippy dippy hot damn, I missed a good one in Philly this weekend. The First Union USPRO Championships. Can you believe Chann McRae wins the title? Man, that is cool. Of course, I’d rather it was the glorious ham fist himself. But we can’t have everything we want, can we? Read all about it over at cyclingnews.com.

How long till Danny Pate wins this one? It’s gonna happen.

"When I’m sitting around the house with a pack of ball park franks taped to my chest, I like to listen to radiohead." Casey tells last night. Then he hands me a can of Budweiser and sits down at the kitchen table. Time to patch the tubes, my man. We don’t buy new shit around here. We is low budget.

So I get this in the mail. Well said.

From: The Carneys Subject: All we need Hey Big Guy All we need is bike and beer and fuck the babes. It can be so simple sometimes we just forget.

Just ride. Pedal, pedal, brake, brake and all that good stuff.

From: Tony Subject: a little bit of angst Hey Big Jonny, How's things? never wrote to you before but have just been reading about how shit the state of your cycling is over there. Here in the UK it is no different. Racing has commenced on Wednesday evenings, and the category I'm in is full of arseholes. I saw some bloke who wasn't even in contention for points carve up a first time racer, Jesus Christ the boy was 14 years of age. Karma came in pretty quick and Mr Carve clocked in a DNF. People don't seem to ride their bikes or fun anymore, it's all about trophies and being better than the next man. Lets just chill and have some fun out there. It's the same at work, this weekend is the London to Brighton bicycle ride, imagine 30,000 people riding to 60 miles for charity, imagine the money raised for the people who need. Problem being my boss won't let me ride it. Reason being "it isn't fair on the other employees" What? I have managed to organize a swap of day off to ensure I can ride it, the other employee is cool about it, and so what's the problem? The problem is someone is trying to prove a point. It's a charity ride. Disgusting don't you think. I work in a bike shop in the centre of London, and I'm not allowed to ride. Sad how some people tick don't you think? I'm pulling a sick day, strange these 24-hour bugs hit. Sorry for the angst, Ride Free, Stay Cool

It really is a sad state of affairs when you cannot just show up and ride for the pure joy of cycling. To many pissed of guys with something to prove. I guess that’s why they call it the Sunday Morning World Championships.

And, I do believe the angst was all mine.

Good luck getting to your charity ride. That whole situation sounds like a real bitch. Maybe you should just arrange for your coworker to go in anyway, and just call in sick that morning. If the honest approach doesn't work, maybe it's time to try the little bit less than honest approach. Fuck it, call in sick from a pay phone while your on the ride. It's the class move.

I got more of the same coming. Want to hear ‘em? Good. 10 o’ hearts drops the knowledge.

From: 10 ‘o Hearts Subject: Sunday Riders after reading your update for sunday, I came to the conclusion that June 9 was national "be an asshole cyclist" day. I did a local criterium, to test out my racing legs, and while watching the Cat. 1-2-3 race, there was a prime sprint, and the result seemed to "anger" one of the riders. He had been pulling most of the race, when someone jumped and took the prime from him at the line like a any good rider does. So he went off on a tirade directed at the chasing group, who had slid back onto his wheel. It drew the attention of the officials, who reminded ALL of the riders that today's race was a family show, with kids present. Apparently, someone else got a bug up their ass, cause the officials warned the field a second time. Personally, i think these guys take themselves too seriously, sometimes. You'd think a Cat. 1, 2 or 3 rider would know better than to "expect" someone sitting on his wheel to "stay" on his wheel when a prime comes up. This is "racing" after all. In my own race, I talked myself into entering the citizens/5 group and having a go at it. the course was on downtown city streets in a .6 mile triangle shape. two of the three turns looked like man-eaters from the start. Feeling cocky, I chased down a guy who took off after the first lap, and later found out that that move alone may two guys quit. I also foundthat the move probably would have stuck if we had kept pushing. Instead, we let up, and let the group catch our lazy asses. A few laps in one guy caught a pedal on the third turn, and took himself and another guy down, but they both benefited from the free lap and got back on. Other than that, there wasn't much action until the last lap, where a guy tried to take a flier before the last turn, and lost his back wheel into the turn, and went down hard. my deepest respect for the man. he believes in the go hard or go home approach. It bit his ass this time, but it was still a ballsy move. The rest of us get through the corner, and start the kick. The guy who got caught in the first wreck won it by a length, and somehow, despite being in too low of a gear, I was able to out sprint (out spin, really) a guy for third place. Not too shabby for my first race in a long time, and first legitimate "USCF" race in two years. On one other note, I feel for your man who got the choke slam. I, too, was once choke slammed as a result of a confrontation. Although, mine was a little different. See, it was Spring Break 2000, and we're all in Panama City. There was much alcohol flowing the night in question. Well, at some point in the night, after getting shut down by a fat chick, I went off to bitch about it. I wandered upon a table of people a few rooms down from mine, and had a seat. Now, I don't know how or what the conversation started/was about, but it quickly degenerated into me calling some girl a bitch, and us arguing back and forth for a good ten minutes. Then, it got worse. I got the bright idea to start flicking cigarette butts off of her head. 'Bink' goes the first one. 'bink' goes another. "Do it again, muther fucker!" 'Bink', I did. Right on the money, too. So she gets up, walks over too me, grabs me by the neck, and throws me to the ground. All 105 pounds of her. She was definitely a firecracker. Of course, to complete the hat trick of bad vibes, i wound up getting handcuffed to a refrigerator by an off duty because i was being a jackass. he was just fucking with me, mostly, and keeping me from pissing someone else off. So back to the choke slam. Let me tell you, it sucks, especially when eight of your closest friends are there to remind you for eternity about that little girl that weighed in at a buck-5 who choke slammed me. I guess the moral is that it can always be worse. "It may have only been third place, but at least I got a shiny medal"

Here is a nice bike for sale by a nice guy. And he’s a fan of the site. Click here to check it out.

More of the same tomorrow, I’m sure.

Sunday, June 9, 2002

autumn   I   shay   I   tera patrick

All I know is that I slept for ten glorious hours last night. Thank you Mogollon brewing company for making Superstition Ale, and the after work beer buzz that led to me hitting the sack at 7:00 pm. Oh, it was grand.

I saw some fucked up shit today, boy. Fucked up. First off, someone managed a full on throat grab take down on the Sunday ride. I didn’t see it, but I heard about it. Weird. Something about someone cutting someone off and then, c’mere and blammo. Cyclist on the pavement. Violence sucks.

This is a friggin training ride guys. Take it easy Casagrande.

And then I saw a bike - car altercation that went from horn honking to giving the finger to full on hit and run. No shit. The late model, white SUV with license plate 007 something full on took this cyclist out. Drove right into him, knocked him down and drove away.

Cell phones were pulled and 911 was dialed. By this time the offending car is long gone. Great. Just great.

I can’t believe it all happened on one ‘round the mouton group ride. What’s next?

Then I get to work and this is what shows up. I’m going to catch all kinds of hell for this, but fuck it. I’m posting it because I think it really shows how stupid the cycling community has gotten around here lately. Maybe it’s just getting to damn hot outside for cooler heads to prevail.

From: (name withheld) Subject: One of your riders… Was a complete embarrassment to cycling, your team and to himself this morning. This person who described himself as Cat 3 rider put many people at danger through erratic riding, blew snot at other riders and intentionally rode one person into the gravel. Apparently someone put him in his place on the way home. Then he had the audacity to call the police about the incident which he instigated. I did not see the altercation, but if he blew snot on me, or road me into the gravel I would have kicked his ass as well. If this guy is a CAT 3 rider I’m not sure what he was doing with medium group. I have done the Sunday ride for years but I have never seen such poor behavior by a rider. What make is worse is that he was wearing your team jersey. It reflects poorly on your team and even the store. I have no team affiliation or other motive besides wanting to have a fast, clean competitive ride on Sunday morning. I hope that the head of your club will talk to this rider about his behavior. I think a written apology to WMRC is in order as well. Thank you.

Um, are you joking?

I mean, really. I don’t even know what to say. Here’s what Dru and I wrote back. We actually tried to make this a coherent reply.

From: Domenic’s Subject: RE: One of your riders… Mrs. Miller, I also did not view this mornings incident either, & therefore I don't believe any of us should make rash decisions or conclusions without the full picture. But, I did see the aftermath. Mr. Webster chose to involve the police because he had been physically assaulted resulting in damage to his bicycle, clothing and person. He told me the man who assaulted him was wearing an Aqua Tel jersey and was unknown to Mr. Webster. Does anybody know who this was? I will not speak for Mr. Webster, but how was WMRC involved with any of this ugliness? And to whom do you feel Mr. Webster owes an apology and why? I agree with you in that this paints a very negative picture of the cycling community in the Phoenix area, and steps should be taken to address this issue. If one of our riders, or anyone else for that matter, behaves in a manner we feel is inappropriate, the Team will take measures to rectify the problem. But, at what point does escalating the conflict to physical violence become acceptable? Much more positive results can be accomplished through the use of words and not fists. We at Domenics had a first time rider out with us this morning and she "could not believe the crap that goes on out here. I don't think I will be doing this ride again." Doesn't sound too good for any of us, does it? P.S. I don't believe that the Sunday morning ride was supposed to be a race, or competitive, and should not be taken as such. I believe that the ride should be more focused on camaraderie than competition.

There you have it folks. The wild, wild west where you put a man in a head lock when you disagree with him. And, yeah, it’s cool man. Might makes right and all that. Why should we just talk to one another when we can act out our highschool fantasies and hit people?

I’ve got an idea? Why don’t you guys take up amateur boxing, football or ice hockey? Hell, do all of them. Then you can go out there and really kick some ass with people who can kick your ass back. That’s what you want, right? Violence?

‘Cause I’m just a homo cyclist who likes to ride around half naked at some ungodly hour of the morning, I’ll share a little something with ya. So many people are so pissed off about this Sunday that I don’t even want to be there next week. It’s going to be even stupider. Isn’t that great? Isn’t that really cool?

Let’s all act like assholes and just fuck it all. Why do the right thing? It’s so much easier when we do the wrong thing.

And finally, some good news in this stinking valley of hate. Ham Fist, 15th place, First Union Classic. Now I’m stoked. Go git ‘em Hammy!

Read all about it here.

Friday, June 7, 2002

cheyenne   I   veronica zemanova   I   erica rose

It’s 8:30 on a Friday night and all I want to do is go to sleep. I guess getting up at 5 am to ride can take it out of a man. That, and the fact that I had half a dozen captain and cokes for dinner last night does not a strong man make. I’m lookin’ for a rock to put my head under. Or a gas oven to put my head in.

Did you know the other day my anti-virus program found the Klez 32 something or the other virus no less than seven times in my email? That’s in one day, mind you. I get sent so much fucking crap it would make you head spin. Enough to slap your momma in the mouth.

Solid.

Go see Undercover Brother. Trust me on this. Good times.

OK, this one’s for my boys across the pond in Belgium. RJ, you the mother fucking man, baby.

porn   porn   porn   porn   porn

Go check this out. It is pretty damn cool. Thank Josh for the link.

On to other things, I read this in Blue magazine. "Conservation may be a sign of personnel virtue, but it is not a sufficient basis for a sound energy policy." Vice President Richard B Cheney.

Um, fuck you.

Thursday, June 6, 2002

hotty on a bicycle   I   gauge   I   zdenka

I’m pretty sure I already linked this a week ago or so, but it’s a crack up. Marty sent in this link to titties and beer. Can you say "theme song"?

Have I mentioned lately how much I miss being on a DSL line? Jesus Christ (lords name in vain) this 56k shit blows goats. Every time I get a video or mp3 in the mail it takes for-fucking-ever to download. And me watching any decent porn these days, forget it. Waiting and hour kinda spoils the mood, doncha think?

And thats why I haven’t put up any new vids on the site. It takes to fucking long to upload them. Like hours, baby, hours. I just can’t do it. Maybe I can go over to my sisters house and bogart her high speed line for a bit. I could greatly improve my porno collection in about ten minutes. It’s got to be a good thing.

I had a great day off from work today. I went for a two hour ride just to make sure I’m still a complete fucking pussy. I waited until it was really hot out and then I went out around mummy mountain to hit up all those short climbs. I am a fucking joke.

Then I spent the afternoon in a strip club with Nic the Dick. He knows the girl behind the bar, and you all know what that means. No cover and cheap ass drinks. As in free. Good times.

I’m drunk as hell and feeling fine.

Here is today’s joke, compliments of Moscow’s finest, June-bug and T-Jay.

A train hits a bus load of nuns and they all die. They are all in heaven trying to enter the pearly gates past St. Peter. He asks the first nun, "Sister Karen, have you ever had any contact with a penis?" The nun giggles and slyly replies, "Well once I touched the head of one with the tip of my finger." St. Peter says, "OK, dip the tip of your finger in the holy water and pass through the gate. St. Peter asks the next nun the same question, "Sister Elizabeth have you ever had any contact with a penis?" The nun is a little reluctant but replies "Well once I fondled and stroked one." St. Peter says, "OK, dip your whole hand in the holy water and pass through the gate. All of a sudden, there is a lot of commotion in the line of nuns; one nun is pushing her way to the front of the line. When she reaches the front of the line St. Peter says, "Sister, Sister what seems to be the rush?" The nun replies, "If I'm going to have to gargle that holy water, I want to go before Sister Mary sticks her ass in it.

Oh, it’s a good one. I’m laughing on the inside.

Wednesday, June 5, 2002

bike porn   I   seed pail   I   lesbians

Do you know what the average daily temperature was in Moscow, Idaho, for the month of April? I’ll tell ya, it was 49 degrees.

How do ya like them apples? Anyone still want to know why I turned tail and ran, mind you I said ran, back to the sunny comfort of the southwest? I may appear to be covered with a protective layer of blubber, much like a sea manatee when I don the lycra, but trust me. I’m all pussy when it comes to the cold. Fuck a bunch of that shit.

Before I get to far into this, I want to make sure and thank all of you who wrote in about the death of my Aunt. It was very cool of all of you, and it really helped get me through a shitty weekend.

Um, dog butt.

I must be one of the unluckiest guys on the planet. Seriously. On the way back, on I-10, coming into Tucson the Buick blew out a tire at about, well, eighty miles an hour. Good times.

It was a rear tire, the best case scenario really. It wasn’t too hard to control, but it was a surprise and it scared the living shit outta my sister who drove out to El Paso for the funeral with me. She asked me afterwards if it had scared me too.

I thought about it, and the best answer I can come to with is a cycling analogy. It seems to be the best way I can understand and explain the world these days. Have you ever gone into a corner way to hot? It wouldn’t matter if you were on pavement or dirt, the situation is the same. There you are, trying to scrub off some speed as gently as possible so as not to break the tires loose. Or looser than they already are, ‘cause they’re probably doing the death march boogie woogie already underneath ya. You’re looking for a line, any line, ‘cause ya already blew past option number one and option number two. Anything that would get ya around this fucker in one piece would be just peachy.

You know the kind of thing I’m talking about? Like, when you’re balls deep in that corner, planting that outside foot and pointing your inside knee at anything resembling safety, you don’t have time to be scared. In fact, being frightened probably doesn’t even occur to you until you’re already out of the corner and down the road a bit.

It was like that. My mind was full of other things like turn off cruise control, light touch on the steering, searching for the end of the endless guardrail and finding a nice place on the side of the road to beach this whale.

Only after I started pulling the jack and spare tire out of the trunk did it pop into my mind, that yeah, that was fucked up. Whew, just glad to be here, thanks

From: Chris Subject: death and single speeds Jonny, Sorry about your loss. I just buried a friend who died of Lou Gehrig's disease this past weekend. Just remember, to every end, there's a new beginning. Just like a wheel. Speaking of which, did my first race on a single speed yesterday. A fast, dry and twisty course in South Jersey, part of the Mid Atlantic Super Series. Anyhoo, I dusted five guys in my age group, and at least 10 in the age group below me. Fuck it if I was 17th out of 22 in my class. I was on a rigid single, these cats were pushing full monkey motion bikes with 27 gears. This proves the following: 1. Gears are not necessary. 2. Beers ARE necessary! 3. Suspension robs you of speed. Period. 4. If I would just train a little, I could be in the money. 5. I could'a been a contendah, Mick. Cut me. Ride on, my man... adguy

You’re God Damn right on that one buddy. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Would you buy this for a dollar? I might. Just’ ‘cause I’m crazy like that.

From: Stephen Subject: time to rile up the knobbies Jonny, Sadly, my life is a complete waste, I am a born loser, and I have no personal misadventures, stories, or highlights to report. Except for this girl who works at the grocery store. She's a total knockout. And this girl trucking along on a comfort bike yesterday. Total and complete brick shithouse. She made yesterdays countless miles of highway traffic and unplatted farmfields a little less dreary. I will certainly be riding that suck ass route again. Now for the important stuff. As you may or may not know, i am a die-hard roadie. Skinny tires, aero positions and pavement are what I crave. I am what you could call "less than sympathetic in general to the knobbies". Those worthless, lazy, half retarded, smelly, unwashed, loud, rude.... Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, after yesterday, I thought maybe my opinion might have changed. A transplanted (for you uneducated knobbies, thats: a person who has moved or changes location/occupation) (occupation: job) knobby in Cadel Evans stomps a bunch of Italians with syringes and tourniquets dangling from their jersey pockets in their own race. Then the man dons the most beautiful shade of pink ouside the human body for his efforts. I thought, hell, this guy ain't half bad. Maybe mountain bikers are alright guys? In the least, this guy has certainly earned my respect. And some respect for the sport of MTB. Then he goes and pulls some shit like today. Un-freakin-real. I haven't seen a choke like that since Bill Buckner. Bonk? Bonk, my ass. It took him nearly 8 minutes to ride the last kilometer. A kilometer! thats 6/10ths of a mile. Practically half of a mile. 8 minutes!! Most knobbies are like "8 minutes? I'm done after 30 seconds..." Wait, thats a different subject. Back on point. I thought hell froze over on wednesday, and I was going to finally recognize knobbies as people...but then your boy wonder goes and does something like that. Check the attached pic from velonews of the bubble gummed wonder in action. Embarrassing. i wonder if those are the same pair of bibs Garzelli was wearing? Okay, now that you (and most of your readers, if you post this) are seeing red and ready to break something....I'm just fuckin with ya. I'm glad he's representin. His cross-over can only be good for both sides of the sport. maybe we'll even get live bicycle racing on network TV someday, all because of some aussie (thats another rant) who switched his fat tires for three weeks of racing amongst crackheads and dopers. Rock on, my man, rock on.

Cadel Evan’s is the man. I love the way he exploded. Makes me think that maybe this sport has a chance of gaining some legitimacy after all. You crawl to the line like that, you’re a clean rider for sure. Check out Cadel Evan’s website and his journal entries. What an amazing ride. To wear the leaders jersey for even one day is the highlight of some riders careers. I think this is only the beginning for Evans.

Now I’m all about ass and titties, but this is definitely pushing my limits.

I’ll finish this up with two great emails I got concerning death and why we ride bikes in the first place.

From: Adam Subject: Deepest condolences Hang in there, Jonny. Life can be so tough. I find myself asking the same questions- out loud sometimes- always without receiving a tangible answer. And usually this happens when I am lying in bed trying to reach dreamland, which is now looming like an Alpine climb with an "HC" rating; and all I've got is a 12-21 cassette in back and an empty water bottle. So, how do I ever get any rest you ask? Well, this is no time for the bottle. I like to keep the brewskies for the upbeat, celebratory times in life. That way, when I wake up with a pounding head and cotton mouth, I realize it was an investment in good times. For your current situation, I prescribe the only medicine that helps me to the top of life's toughest climbs. We only have two choices: deal with all the unfair shit that gets thrown on top of us, trying to bury us or go visit the great pearly gates ourselves. That's right- keep on grinding through this uphill mountain pass called life (and remember, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger)- or throw in the towel and get in the broom wagon and forever be out the back of the peloton of the living. All I know is that every time I dig deep, look into the eye of the storm, and reach the top of that seemingly impossible climb, the view is truly breathtaking and worth all the burning effort. And usually, an enjoyable descent in waiting on the other side. That is why I, like you, rely on my bikes to get me through my ordeals in life. And right now, I am calling on my bikes (and fellow local riders) to help me through my divorce with my wife. Maybe that is why it is called a "life cycle..." Hang in there, and let me know how the view is when you finally grind your way to the top of this climb. Your amigo, Adam Long Dong Kong

We’re all on our own personnel epic rides it seems. All my boys are working on cresting some big mother or another. It’s the same no matter where you look I guess. I hope we all get there soon.

From: mudflap Subject: mere mortal i was cruising home from a grueling ride today and as i came through that nasty intersection at shea and scottsdale road, there was an ambulance on the side with a few cops. as i got closer i saw a cyclist laying on his back, half on the curb, rocking back and forth in obvious pain, his bike several yards away, and people everywhere. we choose to ride because the very fact that it could have been us makes our flames burn hotter and brighter. there is the constant risk of injury and possibly death , and it is that risk that reaffirms our transient and delicate existence, and that we can embrace every breath rather than watch life peter away slowly. it will happen to all of us at some point, some sooner than later i guess, so all you can do now is live like every breath is your last. or better yet, your first.

Well said. Well said indeed.

Saturday, June 1, 2002

kara styler   I   mature   I   hustler magazine

I’m in El Paso, Texas, for all the wrong reasons. Burying a loved one is a fucking drag. I want to thank all of you whom have already sent in emails of support. It really helps out at times like these, so thank you for that.

There are times my quick witty comments can get my ass into, and out of, trouble almost as fast. And then there are days like today when I’ve got nothing. I'm just stumped. What can I say? What can anyone say?

My aunt is dead. Everyone is a mess. My uncle had been through the fucking ringer these last two years, and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

You wouldn’t believe the hand he’s been dealt this last round. You absolutely wouldn’t believe it.

My uncle is one half of a pair or twins. Think of them as sheep, one black and one white. It would help you understand how they’ve lived. The white sheep never drank, never did drugs, and taught middle school math and science. Kept himself in shape physically and was active in his community. The whole nine yards.

Three years ago he had some pain in his hip checked out and discovered a tumor. Cancer. Everywhere. He fought the good fight.

We buried him two years ago in April. Not fun. Black sheep twinless. And then a year later, the black sheep’s wife also gets the cancer. In the lung. She fought the good fight.

You see where this is going? And now he has to put his dog down as well. As in asleep. Fuck me, how much can one guy handle for Christ’s sake? Life is not fair, my brothers. Not fair at all.

And all I can do is stand there and watch all this happen. As much as I want to, I just can’t stop it from happening. I’m on the sidelines, powerless.

It’s like the traffic accident my sister and I drove by yesterday on the way to Tucson. I-10 was a parking lot for about a quarter of a mile as we came up on four cop cars, a fire truck, a tow truck and a medical helicopter on the side of the road. And what was left of a white mini van that appeared to have rolled over a couple of times down along the right hand shoulder.

What a mess. Just like this morning.

I got up a 6:30 am on the living room floor (why do I always get the floor in this family?) and went for a ride. Yes, I brought my road bike. (and my lap top as well)

Why? Because, as many of you who read this site know, cycling had become a large part of my life and the way I deal with things. Feel like shit, go for a ride. Fight with the wife, go for a ride. Can’t figure out your financial situation, go for ride. Can’t friggin’ face this funeral, go for a ride.

My uncle lives at the top of a hill called Stanton street. What a bitch. I pretty much rolled all the way downtown in 30 seconds, rode around down by the border crossing and the bus station. There is a nice downtown area here. Bit ‘ol buildings, restaurants and clubs. And homeless people.

These must be some of the most well read homeless in the country. Everyone I saw was reading a newspaper. Either that or they were just rearranging their bedding. Honest mistake on my part.

And then I turned it around. I climbed the hill, I found a loop up at the top end of the neighborhood which drove me into the 25 tooth end of my cassette. I did it four times. And my guts are still knotted up.

So, we’re burying my aunt today. It sucks. What the fuck else is there to say about it? I guess, "good bye" is the best I can come up with. What else can you do?

And just when you thought life was done kicking me in the ass, my Mom looked me right in the eye and said, "You can’t ride your bike for the rest of your life, you know." I met her gaze and replied, "Why can’t I ride my bike for the rest of my life?"

I mean, serioulsy?