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doreo hosting

 
Monday, October 31, 2005
idoia   I   michelle   I   chrissy

Happy Mother Fucking Halloween.

I hope you all burn in hell.

Armstrong + EPO
freechris.org
coorslight.com/iceswipe
flickr.com/photos/bikeportland/56521813
flexyteens.com
perrspectives.com/blog/archives/000275.htm

I'm going to drink beer, put up a new light in my deathtrap hallway and hand out candy to neighborhood kids.

It's a life I guess.


Friday, October 28, 2005
bobbi   I   crissy   I   hello ladies…

Libby indicted, then resigns. So much for "bring honor and dignity back into the whitehouse."

Five felony counts do not not honor and dignity make.

I'd rather he perjured himself after nailing a fat chick istead of outing a covert CIA agent.

But that's just the liberal in me talkin.

brandonbird.com
crooksandliars.com
bjsbeerpong.com
smirkingchimp.com

Fuck all. Happy Friday.


Thursday, October 27, 2005
erica campbell   I   wtf   I   oh shitty

Today's big news, for those who are in to this sort of thing, Miers nomination pulled. The Bull Moose calls 'em like he see's em.

I can't wait to see who Bush calls up next.

More of those super tight fenders I'm rocking over here.

Six Yuenglings in me with no sign of stopping…

My man Troy up on Fruita drunk dialed me from some bar. It's ok, 'cause I drunk answered.

We should be pro.

I've been laying off the email for a bit. Time to post a few.

  From: Scott
Subject: poster boy?
I've heard it said that you're a strong middle-of-the-pack guy, they must have been gunning for someone representative of their target demographic. Well done.

I've been gloating over my 'choose your weapon' non-sweatshop shirt that I impulse-bought while ordering LiveWrong bands. My co-workers are jealous; you might see some referral business as a result.

And don't forget about Veronika

Ah yes, Vernoka, how can I ever forget those sweater puppies?

Middle of the pack is where it's safe. The dumb bastards out front and behind are the ones dragged down by the lions.

  From: John G.
Subject: Now you can see anyone's Driver's License on the Internet
This is upsetting, thought I should pass it along. Check your drivers license... Now you can see anyone's Driver's License on the Internet, including your own! I just searched for mine and there it was...picture and all! Thanks to Homeland Security! Privacy, where Is our right to it? I definitely removed mine, I suggest you all do he same..... Go to the website and check it out. Just enter your name, City and state to see if yours is on file. After your license comes on the screen, click the box marked "Please Remove". This will remove it from public viewing, but not from law enforcement.
license.shorturl.com

How 'bout some links?

azcentral.com/offbeat/articles/1026naked-drive26-ON.html
news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/merseyside/4372230.stm
local6.com/slideshow/news/4872060/detail.html?...
wetpaintfilms.com
aolsvc.news.aol.com/business/article.adp?id...
velonews.com/race/int/articles/9089.0.html

Yo, wtf on that last one. I'm not the worlds biggest Armstrong fan, but the guy won the Tour seven times. It's off the chart. And you brush him aside?

Even if he did drugs (which by the way, I believe he did) you think the other 9 guys who rounded out the top ten were clean? It's not like the only dirty piss test they found when they retested the '99 B samples was Armstrong's. There were others. And I'd argue most of 'em were dirty. Shit, most of them still are

European cycling isn't a "perceived drug culture". It is a drug culture.

I'm going to catch hell for saying it, but fuck it.

Tonight's fuck all link:

"The UCI has banned cyclo-cross races from passing through beer tents, one of the hallowed traditions in many Belgian events. The decision was made on the grounds that it was unsafe, on the basis of remarks made by Richard Groenendaal last year about the difference in inside/outside temperatures and the danger of being hit by beer glasses. However, Groenendaal said that his comments were not intended to be taken that way." From cyclingnews.com

Well, that's just plain stupid.


Wednesday, October 26, 2005
liz   I   jana   I   lonnie and friend

Man am I tired today. You'd think by Wednesday I'd be back to normal. Whatever "normal" is. Instead I opted for the old ride to work in a car deal. Again. Jesus. I'm a slapdick.

Gotta ride sometime, don't you?

I dunno.

And, hey, at least I can still get a good laugh out of get your war on. All is not lost.

Anyone need some badass fenders? And I mean bad ass. Click here.

Oh hell, let's just get to the links, shall we? We shall. We shall indeed.

phattire.net/cross/videos/vids.html
phattire.net
cycling.williams.edu/cross%20flyer.pdf
thedefeatists.typepad.com/apoplectic/2005/10/my_kingdom_for_.html
voodoocycles.net/cxteam.html
mtbomaha.blogspot.com

Weekend here I come.

Isn't that my usual deal? Complain about Monday's pain, get over the hump on Wednesday, and thank God on Friday. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

Maybe come Thursday I'll throw my leg over a bike and pedal my happy ass to work. All this driving really wears on a brother. As in, it sucks. I can't see how people do it. All those poor bastards down in Phoenix, like herrings stuffed in tiny boxes. Crawling along the ridiculously congested city streets. Jesus, I'd just as soon kill myself.

The only choice now is what bike to ride? Got a few to many it seems. If that is possible.

Been meaning to take some pictures off all them fly rides for the site. Wouldn't you just know it, I never got around to actually doing it.

Funny how that works sometimes.

Ah, shit. Almost Halloween. Looks like I'll be working to sort out a costume. Maybe a Pirate who fights the Global Warming menace?

A real hero. Someone the kids can look up to.

Whatever.


Tuesday, October 25, 2005
pixie   I   katy   I   chrissy

Apparently I am now the Whiskey poster boy.

The Drunkcyclist/Voodoo (or Voodoo/Drunkcyclist) cross team took home their first victory of the season this past weekend. Read all about it here. And the results are up over here. (and yes, they have Big Tex Tullous down as "unattached". wtf?)

Yes, they're fast.

No, I'm not.

Third day of "recovery". Man, that one tore me a news asshole. Why lie? It was hard. Really hard.

You all should do it next year. It will change your perception of Arizona riding.

Why do I say that? Well, think about it. When one talks about Arizona's finest mountain biking experiences and must ride destinations, does the Town of Oracle ever come up?

No, it does not.

And there is a very good reason for that. No one in their right mind goes to Oracle. Ever. The riding is very, very hard. Mind numbingly hot and rocky and endless. (Can you tell I bonked?) It just never seems to end. Goes on for ever. I was cursing as I would crest a hill and see where I had to go next. God damn it, will this shit ever fucking end?

The upside is the last 20 or so miles kick ass. Well, they kicked my ass, but fun stuff all the same. I'd like to have a run at that last bit of singletrack (after the donkey) with fresh legs. (did I hallucinate the donkey?)

Maybe next year I'll saddle up for the 60, or even tamer 30 miler. Call me a wuss if you must, but I only need to slam my dick in a drawer once to know that it hurts.

You tough guys can keep on slamming.

Today's asswipin' - crackpipin' links:

poetry.rotten.com/pumpkin
speedomodel.com
cafepress.com/why2k
ebay.com/...category=98083&whatever
myspace.com/mistressjulie

Ah, almost time to start thinking about that next big epic. Yep, I am one dumb mother fucker.

And so it goes…

As I was walking past two guys today, I heard one say to another, "I just build a 4,000 square foot house in Ponderosa Trails…"

I froze up when I heard it. I hate that shit. Look, you didn't build a fucking thing, softy. I can take one look at a mother fucker and tell he hasn't swung a hammer in his life.

Hanging pictures for your wife does not count for hammer swinging.

You can't judge a book by it's cover and all that, but come the fuck on. I know guys who work construction. You ain't one of 'em. You paid someone to design your house. Then you paid someone to dig out the foundation, pour the concrete, frame it out, run the electric, plumbing, everything. You didn't put up the drywall. You didn't install the heating ducts, appliances, tile floor, carpet, or windows. You didn't shingle the roof or put up the gutters. You didn't finish out the lot with topsoil, you didn't put in the irrigation or landscaping or trees or shrubs or groundcover.

You paid someone to do all of it for you.

So you can't say "I built it". You didn't build shit. You just have the money to pay others to do things you won't.

Fuck, I hate that shit. I makes me crazy. Completely fucking crazy. It's like saying "I built my new car."

I may never understand why guys say shit like that. Why not just say, "My wife and I just had a new house built"? Sounds to much like you're an office dwelling softy?

shit.

I'm an office dwelling softy. I either drove myself, or got a ride, both Monday and Tuesday this week. I don't even want to think about throwing my leg over a bike.

Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah right.


Monday, October 24, 2005
kathryn   I   nautica   I   yanka

Well, at least that's over. I can mark the Soul Ride off my "to do" list. I done done it. Or, it done done me. It's all a matter of perspective, ain't it?

My man Dejay Birch took home the overall, that fit bastard. Unofficial results are up over here.

I finished 'round about in the neighborhood of twelve and and three quarter hours with Becky who was the third place chica. We rode together for about the last 30 miles. And yes, we leaned on each other a bit a few times. Literally and figuratively.

Quitting was a viable option more than once.

My off the couch plan for a 100 miler was a flop. As it should be, I suppose. This is a real hard man's race. And hard woman's I should add. No frontin' allowed.

I thought I'd be lucky to crack the top 50 as I heard there were nearly 100 starters. Turns out I "unofficially" came in nineteenth.

I can't fucking believe it.

Links:

andysinger.com
toplesssportsnews.com
drunkard.com/md-products.htm
brokenspokeediting.com
achillesdied.blogspot.com

That's about it for a Monday. I'll try to get this fucking thing online as soon as I can. Funny thing about a laptop: You can take it with you, but you aren't always online.

A desktop machine is stuck in one place, and you can always access the internet. I'm not sure which is better.

Well, yes I am. Fuck a desktop.

Audi 5000


Friday, October 21, 2005
terri summers   I   sandra   I   kira

One more day and I can pull this big round link off the top of my updates. No, I'm not bitter. I'm just looking real hard for something to say. And some days, that is harder than others.

I had better be careful. I keep up with this nonsense, I'm going to start sounding like some fucking U2 lyrics.

And that would be gayer than a tennis helmet.

Racing. And why we do it. A memoir. By fat, drunk and stupid.

That'll be my first novel. Sure to be a strong seller just tripping with market appeal. And, just in time to fuck up Christmas.

Why do we do it? Because its' fun to get up at 3:00 am and and ride 100 miles with a bunch of strangers? Because Leadville is a fun little town? Because I'm a fucking dumbass?

Today's links:

reddoris.blogspot.com/2005/10/mayberry-were-not-even-mount-pilot.html
hefrown.com/player.php?/frowners/becomerepublican/
tothepeople.com/articles/linnekin_102105.htm
thedefeatists.typepad.com/apoplectic/2005/10/outstanding_rea.html
tgp.glamourmodelsgonebad.com/galleries/101215/kirawhitecouchdz/1

You could say I'm lazy with my new link dump style. I like to think of it more along the lines of time management.

This way I have more time for that all important slack time.

I'm out of here. Time to go meet the Gnome and pilot the car south. Desert vistas, here I come.

And, while you're out, pick up a twelve pack. And some rubbers.

Happy Friday. Fuck all.


Thursday, October 20, 2005
isabella   I   antonia   I   claudia

One more day till the Soul Ride. I'll be glad to get this one out of the way.

It fucking haunts me, man.

And we got ourselves a little cross action down Tucson way. Sounds good to me.

Of course, everything sounds good to me. I'm like that. Easy to please.

Or something.

Fuck, just get me a couple of cold beers and I'll be happier than a pig in shit.

  From: Jason K.
Subject: Tucson Cyclocross Series
Hey Jonny,
Just wanted to get the word out that the Tucson Cyclocross Series is up and running for 2005. The series is co-promoted by Eclipse Racing and the Desert Foxes, with five races in all. The first race was last weekend, and had a pretty good turnout for being announced on short notice. Cindy McFarland won the women and Jason Karew won the men. The next race will be on Oct. 29th at Lakeside Park in Tucson. There are overall series awards (cash) at least 3 deep and possibly 5 deep in all categories except juniors, as well as cash to first place riders per event.

See eclipseracing.org, desertfoxescycling.com or azcycling.com for more information.

Jason Karew talks about himself in the third person…

That's Ok, you win the season opener, you can do whatever you want.

Lets get to some links.

misternicehands.com
venganza.org/spread/springfield.htm
mtexpress.com/index2.php?issue_date=10-12-2005&ID=2005105688
pornolize.com/pornolize...www.duggarfamily.com
azbikeclub.com
mashupradio.com/mashUp_v2/top5.html#
yahoo.com/s/ap/20051020/ap_on_go_ca_st_pe/katrina_fema
news.ft.com/cms/s/afdb7b0c-40f3-11da-b3f9-00000e2511c8.html
wakeupshow.com/
media.putfile.com/matwtf

Yep. That was some links all right. God damn, I need a beer. I've finished packing all my shit for the drive to Tucson. Looks like we're camping at the race start/finish. I just hope for a relatively level spot to park my ass for a few hours of shut eye.

I ain't asking for much.

Shit.

Get this one out of the way, and it's nothing but drunken shenanigans till after Thanksgiving. Maybe even all the way through Christmas.

Fuck me. Check out the Flight of the Pigs finishing pins. And I'm going to miss this shit. Fuck.

I've sorted out my bike. Lubed the cables & chain. Pulled the fork apart and slathered that bastard with some fresh Judy Butter.

Is Judy Butter still cool? Or did that shit jump the shark three years ago.

Why am I always the last to know?


Wednesday, October 19, 2005
janova   I   trisha   I   terri summers

Every day I'm in here, I get weaker. Charlie's out in the bush. Every day he gets stronger. And I get weaker. In here. In here I get weaker. Charlie gets stronger. I get weaker. Every day.

Did that stupid ride thing again tonight. Alone. I guess I'm worried about the upcoming drudgery of the Soul Ride. Two more days and it's gonna hurt real bad.

How do I get myself into these things?

No matter. I'm in it now. No sense crying about it. Might as well just get on with it.

orsm.net/php/showmemore.php?count=4&folder=../shite/update20051013
cryingmachoman.com/drphilvsthegays/
ananova.com/news/story/sm_1570835.html?menu=
singleswizzle.com/bikeandbars/index9.htm
bobcycling.com/skofieldCross.aspx

The things we do for love...

So, about that ride from tonight. Took the rigid single speed out for a little jaunt. Felt good. Under geared on the flat dirt road on the way out and way over geared on any and all climbs. The singletrack went well. Even in the dark. In short, I had a blast.

Some things never change.

Door to door came in at 1:20. Felt like the best thing since sliced bread while I was doing it. Put down five IPAs and watched the first disc from the Chapelle show second season with my feet up on the ottoman whilst the wood stove warmed the room.

It's times like these, my friends, times like these, you know it's ok.

A bottle of Stoli would have been a nice addition.

Perhaps it's time to resurrect the infamous drunken blur which was the Bourbon on the Urban?

Could be. Stranger things have happened.

Dan McGehee won Cochise (again) this year. This is his race report.

  From: Dan M.
Subject: Cochise
Cochise County 252 Cycling Classic, 2005. Presented by the PBAA

I awoke at midnight and still was rushing to get to the 2 AM start. It is like moving in slow motion. Very few things to do: eat, get dressed, take a dump, load the car and ride to the start, but I still manage to hit the start line just as the Star Spangled Banner begins to play over the speakers. Every year the same thing. I wish I could for once, just maybe, get to the start with a little time to relax. No matter, these days it seems the only time I can relax is on the bike, so the roll out of Douglas is a welcome relief.

Even with this being my 7th Cochise County 252 start, it still seems really odd to be riding through downtown Douglas in the dark. You would never think there would be so many people out and about at this time, but the bars just closed so go figure. Just an hour earlier, Al Schott and I were loading up the car in front of the Gadsden Hotel, a pillar of the Douglas historic district, when a glassy-eyed man leaving the Gadsden Bar stopped by to tell me about the bike he has and how he plans to ride it more. I didn’t know if I should feel bad for him, hope that he would actually ride his bike, or spend a little more time drinking myself so that I would be on my way home at 1:30 in the morning instead of heading out for 12 hours of physical punishment.

Al Schott and I have been a team since May of 1995, when we decided to take a tour from Phoenix to Chicago as a charity ride to support Prevent Blindness America. In October of that year he won the tandem division of the Cochise 252 with his wife, Cindy, on the same day I was competing in the Hawaii Ironman. As a weird coincidence, their final time was 15 hours 10 minutes, and mine was 10 hours 15 minutes. We later compared notes on our races and I began to think riding 252 miles nonstop wasn’t such a bad idea. Al all but pushed me into doing the 252 in 1996, also volunteering to be my crew chief. I still ask him if he regrets that decision now that we have teamed up to do 7 Cochise 252 events and 2 Furnace Creek 508 races. I couldn’t ask for a better crew chief or friend. He is an amazingly talented guy with a huge level of patience. I do believe he has the harder job as it seems, most times, easier to pedal the miles than to sit in a car at 15 to 20 mph following a rider. I can’t thank him enough for what he does.

The first 15 miles, of the 252, is usually marked by riders with freshly tapered legs looking to show how fast they can get up Rt. 80 into Bisbee. This year the pace was a bit more pedestrian, for a nice change, and the only rider who seemed to be in a hurry to get to the Bisbee hill was a gentleman from Mexico. He either didn’t realize he was on a solo breakaway, or didn’t care that he still had 240 miles to ride. As I drifted back in the pack, I met up with Jim Auwen, a Mesa Brumby rider who, pretty much last minute, decide to ride the 252 with 2 other Brumby’s from Mesa, instead of riding the 157 miler. When I heard the all-to-familiar hissing sound of air escaping an expensive rear tire, I didn’t even bother to check mine – I knew it was Jim’s. This guy has been plagued with flats lately. He had like 8 of them at LOTOJA and I would find out later that day this one was only the beginning of another string of flats for him and his group. I radioed back to Al in the support car that Jim had flatted and asked if he could watch for them as drove up to catch the pack. He reported that he had just pasted a group of 3 on the side of the road so he would wait were he was until they caught up to him and then provide them a draft back up to the pack. When the 3 passed him he drove up to met them just as one of them flatted again. Now out of radio contact, and the lead pack approaching the climb into Bisbee, Al realized he needed to get back up for my support and hoped that their support would be with them shortly. During this, I had gone to the front of the pack and let people know that there were 3 guys fixing a flat and that they would be paced back up. So, we slowed until we came to the outskirts of Bisbee when Al came back into radio range to tell me that they were way off the back, not even in sight from Double Adobe, at least 4 miles behind the pack. It was obvious, at this point, that they would not be joining us. Boy did I feel bad for them, but at least they knew each other and planned to stay together anyway.

Through the roundabout and under the train trestle, I lifted the pace to see who wanted to tempo the climb. There were 6 takers and we climbed steadily up to the tunnel. The climb seemed shorter this year for some unknown reason and just as I was settling in to a climbing rhythm, we were headed down the other side of Mule Pass. At an average speed of 46 mph, with a 55 max, the 5 mile descent was a snap and five of us were regrouped by the SR 90 interchange. Apparently, one rider dropped off the pace just near the top of the climb and never latched back on. We settled into a pace line during the rolling terrain on the way to Tombstone. But one rider, who I later discovered was Andy Duvall, seemed to want to push the hills and would drift off the front. I was confused by this strategy only 50 miles into the ride, but to each his own. I had a nice conversation with Shane, who was with the Air Force, and we got a little chuckle over Andy’s senseless expenditure of energy.

Riding through Tombstone at this hour is always a surreal experience. It is only 4:30 AM and the town is really quite, such big difference from the bustle of the daytime tourists. Every time I ride through it I remember the 1996 event when Tom Domres had to take a leak. We were moving very fast that year, so I was pushing him while he relieved himself so we wouldn’t lose too much ground. He peed for what seemed like 5 minutes, with me asking him every 10 seconds when he was going to be done. We had to chase together for 4 miles to catch back up. This year, the only excitement was the Border Patrol checkpoint in the middle of the desert. It was very bright. The old retinas were not ready for that. Fortunately, the lead official vehicle had stopped ahead of us to inform them of our arrival, so we were waved through with a smile.

St. David was a blessing and a curse. ADOT has been working on repaving a 13 mile stretch of road there and 3 miles of it are still a washboard. But, the other miles were sweet. Andy was still finding his way off the front on the small climbs, and we were still more than happy to watch him roll away. The washboard section had its way with my prostate, and my aero bars. By the time we reached the train tracks, marking the end of the construction zone, my light mount nut had wiggled itself halfway out and my lights were flopping around like a rag doll. Remembering how adamant Cindy (Al’s wife) was about not losing her little cateye light I had borrowed, I removed it and stuck it in my pocket. The other light was larger, and I still needed it to see, so I had to stay aero to hold onto the light and mount while I tried to first tighten the screw with my finger and then just shake it with pure frustration until it came off altogether. This little game took the better part of 15 minutes, during which we had gone through Benson, made 2 rights, hopped on I-10, and ridden a few miles up the early slopes of Texas Canyon. Thank God for the exit ramp, where I handed the whole thing off to Al, instead of throwing it under a passing truck. We were exactly 3.5 hours in and had covered 76 miles.

The sun always rises when we climb Texas Canyon. At 15.6 miles long with 1400 feet of elevation gain, it certainly isn’t the most daunting climb. But, with the sun coming up over the top of it, right into your eyes, and the continuous threat of a huge truck crushing you from behind, it seems like it will never end. You can tell your getting near the top because the billboards for “The THING” get larger and more numerous. I have yet to see this “thing.” Maybe someday, when I’m 60 and doing Cochise for the 34th time, I’ll stop in and have a look. We had a good pace heading up and it seemed that a couple guys were getting a little worked. Nearing the top seemed like a good time to raise the pace and see what would happen. Everyone responded well, most notably a young rider named Amelio, and we took turns alternating the pace. No one dropped off as we passed the rest stop and rolled over the top. The downhill was refreshing and the pace lifted again. But, the real descent doesn’t start until about 3 miles later, after having to crest a minor ridge. A push up the ridge with a couple of accelerations on the downhill, then there were three (Genesis, 1979).

Amelio, Andy, and I seemed to work rather well together, settling into a nice fluid pace line. It was immediately obvious that Andy was taking significantly shorter pulls, and it was difficult to tell if he was sitting in or too tired to match the 2-minute pulls of Amelio and I. This went on for the better part of a half hour. So, after taking a mile pull between mileposts, I asked the other 2 if we could start one-mile pulls using the markers. Amelio was quick to oblige and we continued to push along into the increasing east headwind through Wilcox and past Bowie. The headwind was really starting to piss me off as it had switched from northeast, to east, to southeast during our parade down I-10.

As we approached the exit to San Simon, the urge to poop had reached its peak. I wasn’t just crowning, I was dilating and fully effaced. I told the guys what I needed to do and pushed ahead only to have them come up saying they could use a stop themselves. At mile 156, 7 hours and 20 minutes in, we made a stop. It is weird how you can be moving so fast off the bike, but the clock seems to be moving three times faster. We were stopped for almost 4 minutes, but it seemed like only 30 seconds. (I have a Polar 710 and I love it. With the computer graph it is possible to calculate almost every second of your ride, with HR, speed, altitude, temperature, cadence, etc. If you haven’t seen what these new HR monitors can do, you gotta check it out).

I do not like having to stop. It seems to mess up the rhythm of the ride and it always takes a little time to settle back in. To make matters worse, we had stopped at the base of a slow ascent, a 10 mile grind up 500 feet into a headwind. I was on the front, with Andy on my wheel and Amelio behind him, about 4 miles after we had stopped, when I heard the sound of bike meeting pavement. At first it didn’t register. After a couple seconds I felt the need to look back, to see Amelio on the pavement about 60 meters back, and he wasn’t moving. As I sat up, Andy came by on my right saying “he crossed over my back wheel.” I turned completely around on my saddle and Amelio was sitting on the ground next to his bike. I yelled back “can you get up? Get up if you can.” Looking back up the road I saw Andy, in his aero bars, riding ahead. I yelled up to Andy “hey, he’s on the ground.” I still don’t know if he heard me or not, but he kept moving up the road. I didn’t know what to make of this, but I knew one thing for sure – I wasn’t going to leave him on the ground. I had almost rolled to a stop when I looked down the road again to see Amelio getting on his bike. Looking forward again, about 200 meters up the road Andy got off his bike, checked his back wheel, and got back on. I spun along waiting for Amelio to catch up, which he did in short order. Boy did he look messed up. His jersey was all but torn off his left shoulder, exposing a wicked clump of road burn. His left leg looked toasted from the hip all the way to the ankle. But the outside of his left forearm looked the worst. There was blood running down from the elbow into his glove with a significant loss of dermal tissue beneath. What amazed me was how quick he was to apologize for “losing his focus and crossing wheels.” With how hard he went down, and the damage to his body, he still had the poise to realize what happened and why – and he wasn’t trying to blame it on anyone else. To me that shows a lot of class. With support crews nowhere in sight, I radioed to Al that I needed a full bottle of cold water as quickly as possible. Time gets away from you in this kind of event, but it seems as if Al had that bottle in my hand within a minute and I used it to lavage Amelio’s forearm. The bleeding had stopped and blood had started to dry on the wound making it difficult to clean it up. I’d spray a little and he’d wipe his arm on his shorts or his jersey. After a few rounds of this, it was fairly clean, but the damage was obvious and I told him he was going to need to get a bandage on it. I asked him if he was feeling ok and he said “ya” so we work together to catch back up to Andy.

At this point on the gradual climb, we were approaching the first tier, of two, and about 3 miles from the top of the ridge. We traded a few short pulls and we were back on pace. Just under 2 miles from the top I surged, increasing my pace to high-tempo, sub-AT, climbing out of the saddle. As I settled into a climbing cadence, I felt someone on my right shoulder. I glanced back, expecting to see Andy, but instead saw Amelio. This made me immediately wonder where Andy was. I looked over my left shoulder and saw him climbing, out of the saddle, about 50 meters back. This seemed like an opportunity to test whether or not we would all go into the last 80 miles, down SR 80, together. I said to Amelio, “Good job buddy, that’s showing some kinda balls. Let’s get over the top of this hill and I’ll pull down the other side.” He took a solid pull, I came around him and took a pull, then slowed slightly thinking he would be coming through. No Amelio. I checked back to see him about 40 meters back with Andy another 100 meters plus behind him. Only a half-mile from the top, I decided to keep my tempo and descend to the turn before I would check on where they were. If they catch up, then we ride together. If they don’t, I’m on my own.

Descending is so fun. This was almost 3 miles of fun, quickly forgotten though as I made the right turn at Road Forks, NM, onto SR 80 and into a stiff, and unexpected, headwind. I looked back up the hill to see no one in sight. This worried me. I realized that if I was hung out to dry in this headwind, and Andy and Amelio regrouped, I would be in a good position to be chased down and they would have 80 miles to do it. I tried to settle into my training aerobic pace and stay aero into the wind, which only seemed to pick up the further down SR 80 I rode. Every few miles I would ask Al for an update and he would stop for a minute and wait to see were the others were. I must have been only 7 miles past the turn when he reported that Amelio had dropped out and Andy was alone. This allowed me to settle my pace a bit and not let the wind beat me up so bad.

At the 180 mile mark there is a fairly big downhill that always provides a nice rest for the legs. My right ankle was bothering me so I decided to try switching to my TT bike for the 5-mile descent. This worked out very well. But at the bottom the road turns back to the south and begins to rise slowly over the next 15 miles. I do not know what possessed me to stay on the TT bike, that only has a large chainring, but I continued to push into the wind until I realized my cadence hadn’t been over 70 in over 30 minutes. This necessitated a stop to change back to the road bike. I should have just hopped on the bike and went, but instead I decided to change my jersey, go to the bathroom, take off my shoe covers, fiddle with my bike computer. I never realize until after I get done why I hate stopping so much. Time just drifts by and I’m averaging zero miles-per-hour. Getting back on the road bike was relief as I could spin. Then the rain came. Lots of it, in really big, painful drops. I tried to imagine that the lightening strikes were increasing the energy in the air, and I was feeding off of it. The only advantage to this was a temporary drop in the wind, but I preferred the tradeoff. Coming out the other side of the rain resulted in more wind. Oh well, back to the grind.

When I reached the top of the descent into Silver Creek, I was greeted with a pleasant surprise – a tailwind. I really motored through this section, knowing it would not last. The descent and climb out last about 10 miles and passes through a small valley between the Perilla and Pedregosa mountains, on the south end of the Chiricahua Mountain range, heading a bit northwest. These factors made this stretch of road like a wind tunnel, in my favor thankfully. Unfortunately, the road loops back around to the southwest as it emerges from the mountains, and the headwind was back for the final 12 miles. This was buffered by the 600 feet of downhill on the section of SR 80 into Douglas. A left turn on A Avenue and a right turn on 9th Street, and the ride was over. For the day it took 12 hours and 44 minutes, 4 hours and 47 minutes of which were the last 80 miles with 9 minutes off the bike. If you’re interested in stats: 6841 feet of climbing, 252 miles, 11459 calories expended. The other numbers are a secret!!

The PBAA staff works very hard during this event, covering a lot of miles in there vehicles with very little sleep. I appreciate their efforts to continue to put on an endurance event that takes so much work but attracts so few participants. They are such a nice, caring, and dedicated group of people. I was glad to see that the 92-mile was so well attended and hope to get my wife and kids down to that ride next year. If you have a last name or phone number for Amelio (maybe it is Emelio), let me know. I’d like to see how he is doing.

See you on the road.

Dan McGehee

Also from this past weekend, cross racing in Colorado from the Drunkcyclist/Voodoo team.

No shit. I sponsoring these assclowns for the second year.

  From: Big Tex
Subject: CX Update
Juan Grande,

Over the weekend, we had our first official Drunkcyclist/Voodoo CX team race!

Ok. Here it goes....
Flats were the story of the day. I think everyone in the race got at least one but we are focusing on us. We got flats. Everyone on the team at some point. There were orchards of goatheads we were riding through. We weaved left and we weaved right but still flat. Darling Doug and I flatted right away on the first lap. So who do you think I see in the pit but my team mate and only one spare front wheel. I got it first and Doug helped himself to wheels next to ours. OK now we both have dropped into the mid pack of about 40 starters. No worries. We have almost an hour to catch everyone. We start picking riders off left and right through this highly technical course that runs through the only mud within 20 miles---at least it's natural mud. We all run the mud to keep the bikes clean and shifting properly. For the next 40 minutes, I see and hear nothing. I'm in pain and have no idea where I'm at--place wise. Finally, Marcia (some of you remember her) gives me the update---"6th and about a minute back!" Shit, there are three guys in front of me. I collect them up over two laps and have a lap left to hold on. I finish 3rd and 49 seconds back to who else---T Brown. Doug finished 11th. Jimmy Jam rode well inside the top ten all day till he double flatted. He pumped up some tires to finish on and did a 19th. All in all only 23 guys finished. I never heard if the owner of Doug's borrowed wheel needed it but we heard no complaints.

We then proceeded to the nearest car wash since there are no awards for cross racing in Colorado. The car wash was interesting with 3 naked guys spraying each other with a high pressure hose. I just kept thinking of Zoolander without the gas.

Next up is the Foothills Series on Saturday and then up to Boulder for another race on Sunday. We've adopted a new strategy by placing an ice cold case of PBR at the pits for anyone who needs one. I hope it works.

And the pics:

  

And yes, those are the new DC jerseys that will soon be available for purchase.

Ain't life grand?

 


Tuesday, October 18, 2005
tanya   I   ulya   I   girls kissing

Ah, look at me. Starting a new thing are we? Yes. Like my man Zack says "Get the thing, jonny! Get the thing!"

Less on the email. More on the writing. Too easy to just posting a shit ton of emails. Easy, but fun. Almost makes me feel like I actually wrote something.

Yeah right. I'll give up posting emails when I stop drinking.

Raining like all hell here. For the past, what, twelve hours? Flash flood warming and all the rest in full effect. My dog tried to get up on the bed with me during the night a couple of times 'cause she's shit scared of thunder. Drives her out of her god damn mind.

What she has for a "mind" anyway. Dog head is like a big cardboard box with one lone marble rolling around in it.

I think I once said the same thing about one of Husky's (many) girlfriends.

And so it goes.

Cyclocross practice, every Wednesday on NAU campus, Hill top field (off San Francisco St.) on campus @ 4:30.

Be there or be fat and lazy like me. Yeah, I've got a cyclocross bike. I ride it to work. I ride it to the bar. I almost never carry it over anything. And, when I do, I most certainly do not run.

Only run when being chased, thank you very much.

  From: Josh
Subject: The Hour
Am I to understand that an hour is a really short ride? Given my short attention span many of my rides are around that duration. I figure that if I ride a single speed I'm working harder so an hour on the single speed is like riding an hour 10 minutes on a geared bike.

Yeah, an hour is pretty short. But, I'll take an hour shredding before work over an hour doing, say, laundry.

You know the drill. Dump them links:

drunkcyclist.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=205
nydailynews.com/front/story/356502p-303873c.html
safaribikes.com/cycle1.htm#top
kcrg.com/article.aspx?art_id=98157&cat_id=123
user.chollian.net/~boonstra/korea/survival.htm

The other night I was trying to "train". Went out on my fixed gear, all kitted up like a proper jackass. With a headlight. Straight up sucked.

I don't think I'll be doing much more of that in the near future. If I ride at night, it'll be off road with a flask of single malt. Chipps style.

Someone ought to patent that shit.

Anyway, rode for a bit, in the dark & cold with cars damn near hitting me and all that fun shit. At least I didn't catch a flat. That's the only thing that would have made it worse.

But I was treated to a rare sighting: Drew Miller.

He was in full effect. Had on his blue windbreaker. Had his headlight. Had his rear view mirror. And, as he piloted out of the Circle K parking lot with one hand, he held what looked to be a big gulp. Knowing Miler, it was undoubtedly 32 ounces of coca cola. Only one man puts in the miles while sipping a half gallon of go juice.

And don't laugh, he won Gila three times.

Not sure if he was heading out, or heading back. No matter. You want to ride like Drew Miller, you ride by yourself in the dark.

He is a far harder man than I am.

And I'm sure I can drink him under the table.


 
Monday, October 17, 2005
petra   I   misato   I   ria

Another weekend of not touching the damn computer. Hell, I didn't even get the update I wrote on Friday on the server till today.

Yeah, I'm that damn lazy. Or, too busy doing other things. Like acting a fool out at the Soulstice Mountain Trail Run. See results here.

The devil made another appearance to cheer on the runners. New venue and course this year, and the devil's lack of familiarity led me to head out on the long course loop. So I missed everyone who was just doing the short loop. Kind of a shame, I enjoyed stabbing all my peps in the ass with my spear last year. This year I only got to stab half of 'em.

And a good half it was.

Anyway, on to the links.

spiritoftriathlon.com
cnn.com/2005/TRAVEL/09/28/philadelphia.great.ap/index.html
bringdownbush.org
bikeportland.org/2005/08/09/wanted-your-close-calls
frusciantedesign.com/news/news.archive/crash.html
theregister.co.uk/2005/10/10/smurf_village_razed
flickr.com/photos/bikeportland/50649428/in/set-1099250

And, holy shit, the Flight of the Pigs is coming…

  From: Jimbo
Subject:
Get flappin'. This year will be the 10th time a herd of pigs has flown the big loop of trails around Phoenix.
Sign up for the Flight now.

A few notes:

  • New start and finish location. (Due to the ASU / UofA game and other factors, we will not be starting or finishing in downtown Tempe this year. I know it is a cool place, but we'll fly with what we can make work.)
  • Time cuts will be enforced, similar to last year.
  • No beginner mountain bikers. This event is for relatively fast and skilled riders. Keep this in mind when inviting your friends.
  • This isn't a race, but of course you can ride as fast as you like on the trails - you'll just do more waiting at the breaks.
  • We stick together on the roads as much as practical.
  • If you don't know the route, don't lead.
  • Earn your wings. If you don't finish the whole loop, don't ask for a FINISHER'S pin.
  • You'll be wasting an entire day on this event, so you might as well stick around at the end to get your award and to get down and dirty at the post ride party.
  • 100ish rider limit, so sign up early.
  • $5 late fee, so sign up early.
  • The home sty has a secured mailbox, so don't fear that your mail will be stolen by evil swine.
  • There is no online registration. What kind of event do you think this is?
  • For last minute updates, check flightofthepigs.com.

    Snort.

  • You had me at "snort".

      From: Daniel R.
    Subject: Ride to Reunite
    Help us raise awareness and money for hurricane victims through the Ride to Reunite. We are searching for those who are interested in either sponsoring a rider during the journey, or for those who will be able to ride a section of the ride when the ride comes through your area. Please read the following and get back to us asap if you can sponsor a rider, take part in a portion of the ride, help organize in your area, or know someone who can. Please pass this email on to others who would be interested in being involved!!

    Ride To Reunite

    Join the TEAM!! Help bring awareness and aid to recent Gulf hurricanes victims by, supporting the Ride To Reunite.

    Our vision is to utilize the sport of cycling to demonstrate a commitment to social responsibility and concern.

    We are uniting the cycling world in an effort to raise worldwide awareness, relief, and funds for the victims of the recent Gulf hurricanes. The Ride To Reunite specifically focuses attention on the critical need to reunite children and their families who were affected by Hurricane's Katrina and Rita. To quickly raise awareness we have joined forces with an established charity. Save the Children, is the leading US and world wide independent organization creating lasting change for children in need. Through its Gulf Coast Recovery Fund For Children all money generated will be put to immediate use. All donations will be a 100% tax deduction.

    Our goal is to raise $100,000 for the hurricane victims. As cyclists we know it takes a TEAM to achieve, this couldn't be truer now. Help us raise awareness by joining the group of already committed cyclists for a segment of the ride or sponsoring a rider. Other ways you can contribute are by donating products that can be used in our raffle to generate money for the charities.

    Ride Info: We will be departing with a sponsor and media kickoff celebration in San Diego at 8am Saturday October 22nd, from the San Diego Velodrome and complete the Ride To Reunite at 3pm Sunday October 30th in New Orleans.

    Our team will include 8-10 top professional cyclists committed to riding from San Diego to New Orleans. Alongside the pros will be an equally committed group of hundreds of cyclists prepared to ride segments of the journey. Ride logistics have been planned for those riders going the distance including navigators, mechanics, a team chef, mobile support, and traveling caravan.

    Media coverage will be utilized in the eight major US cities in route from San Diego to New Orleans (San Diego, CA - Phoenix, AZ - Tucson, AZ - El Paso, TX - San Antonio, TX - Houston, TX - Baton Rouge, LA - New Orleans, LA).

    No matter what is in our future as cyclists we are committed to causes outside ourselves. Now our focus is on the young victims and their families affected by recent hurricanes. As cyclists we use intense efforts to succeed, and it will take an intense effort of social responsibility to win the battle against the Gulf hurricane disasters and the continuing long term effects.

    "This is a great way for the cycling community to demonstrate their concern and compassion for the hurricane victims. The support we have been getting already is amazing. That support will only grow with each city we pass through building into a huge surge of aid and assistance."
    -Ryan Yee

    Professional Cyclist and Ride to Reunite Organizer For more info on how to join us please send an email to info@ridetoreunite.com or visit RideToReunite.com to make donations starting Tuesday October 11th.

    As always, feel free to post any upcoming events over in the DC forum.

      From: Jim
    Subject: What can Brown do for you?
    Dude buys his fiance a new hardtail for graduation from Tulane in NO from my shop. We ship it to her for him. It never gets there. We track the shipment and it disappears in the NO hub. A few weeks later I get a call from some loss prevention lady who says it was stolen by a UPS employee in the NO hub and she's really sorry. She says if I file a claim I'll get my money back. We reship another bike (not by Brown this time) so the dude is covered with his girlfriend and file the claim. I get a check back for $141.25 instead of the actual value of the hardtail! UPS rep says its because I neglected to check the extra value box when I shipped it and they are only liable for $100.00 and the shipping chgs!!! WTF? I said where is the box I check which says don't steal my stuff when I ship it with your company? Their new motto should be: "We cheat the other guy and pass the savings on to you!"

    And:

      From: Adam
    Subject: UPS story
    Sounds like dude is going to have to bend over and take it. That is what i had to do when shipping a marble vanity top that was "improperly packed" and i am sure abused in transit. Should have went to a UPS store and paid the big$ to pack and ship it and the ins claim would have been valid. Now for the kicker about the local UPS store's proper packing. I work at a lbs in a strip mall with a UPS store, they charge the customer $55 to pack the bike, call us and pay us the normal $35 that we charge and then ship it off. Now had we packed a bike for someone and it got fucked up, the same way we pack for the UPS store you more than likely will not get you ins money back. I learned my lesson, don't ship big shit UPS.

    I guess we're all going to be FedEx only from now on, eh?

      From: Jeffery
    Subject: Jonny, my brutha, I got a story to tell...
    Reading all these reports of riders being run-over for no reason, brings so many close calls (and collisions) to mind here in friendly boston. Nothing friendlier than a boston driver high on caffeine, fighting through city streets laid-out in 1666 or some such shit (the route I take to work is literally Paul Revere's ride). A 10mile commute is a 45min ass-crushing, mind-numbing event. Everyone cutting everyone else off - yellow means go fast, red means go really fast. Pure anarchy.

    I digress. Late last winter I'm biking home from work as usual, cruising-down a steep hill. At the bottom there's a nasty intersection - traffic is always thick and it's a tricky merge with a commonly ignored yield sign. Usual Boston anarchy. On this fine day a blue Jetta was sitting at the bottom of the hill, waiting to turn across the lane I was motoring-down. He's just sitting there with a long line of cars blocked from moving while waiting for him to make the turn. What is this guy waiting for? I only have a few seconds to think about this crackhead's intentions… I begin to get on the brakes, what in the heck is this guy waiting for? Moments before entering the intersection, he makes the turn right in front of me, middle finger out-stretched, a huge smile on his face. I lay the bike down sideways in an effort to stop. I miss going under his car by feet. I can see the evil smile on the back on my eyelids as I lay on the ground. He purposefully almost killed me - and enjoyed it immensely. Within seconds, I'm back-up and chasing him down, don't even feel the road rash - I'm more pissed-off than I've ever been. There's no where to out-run a bike in this town at rush hour. He must see me coming, 'cause he bails off the main drag and into side streets. I make the turn just in time to see him making another turn. I'm rolling full-out and make the next turn just as he turns again. 2 turns later, I'm still gaining. 3 turns later we're deep in somerville. He skids to a stop and gets out of the car - I'm rollin' so fast I almost crash into him and end-up a foot away from the guy - he's already rolling-up his sleeves, the old "I'm about to kick your ass" maneuver. Fight or flight kicks in. I almost piss myself, but manage to yell, "What in the fuck are you thinking?" instead. He pushes his finger into my chest and replies in a thick boston accent "y'ah a punk." The smell of booze is so thick I almost pass-out. This guy is 6' 2" and I'm a midget. Can't back-down now, this is where heroes (or widows) are made, but I'm speechless - and scared. This guy purposefully tried to hit me and I'm the punk? He's obviously about to kill me and leave my body on the side of the road. Why did I chase this asshole down, am I about to die? I find more words, "dude, you're fucking drunk!" I look at his car, his wife is in the front seat, staring straight ahead, ignoring the whole ordeal - 2 beautiful little girls are in the back - also looking straight ahead. No doubt this f'ing asshole beats his family on a daily basis. He tenses like he's going to throw a blow to my melon, but instead quickly turns, jumps in the car and peels-out. I guess the drunk comment hit a nerve. I feel like shit. No doubt this dude is going to take his rage-out on his family instead of me… I just f'd-up real bad. I guess I am a punk.

    Got 10 more stories just like it. From getting doored to literally getting run-down, it happens in this f'ing town. You're invisible on a bike to some people. I keep thinking that when I move to Durango or some equally kick-ass place, that I'll leave all this bike-hate behind me… but the more I've read on DC, the more I realize it's an epidemic… that sucks. That really f'ing sucks. But it won't keep us from riding. No way. Wait till gas is $10/gallon, who'll be the punks then


    Friday, October 14, 2005
    anna & olya   I   whoa   I   jana

    Good times coming down the pipe in the northland. We got ourselves some cross racing starting in one week. Check out azcyclocross.com for info.

    Aside from that, it's the weekend and I am very excited.

    Can you tell?

    Link dump:

    e-dologic.co.il/kapara/#afhurl
    bigstampede.com
    thedefeatists.typepad.com
    25-88.com/clean_your_monitor/brush.swf
    sock2.com
    tunaparty.com
    camcrush.com
    cumgirls.com
    milfnextdoor.com

    Hopefully there was something for everyone in that.

    Yeah right.

      From: Jeremy
    Subject: More SUV food for thought
    BJ,
    Love the site, first time writing in. I liked the article about SUV's vs. pedestrians. If you're not familiar with Malcom Gladwell check this article from 2004. The guy consistently comes up with amazing shit like this.
    gladwell.com/2004/2004_01_12_a_suv.html

    I'm pretty sure I've posted that one before. But, I'll post it again as it's about as close to a DC required reading assignment as we're going to see around here.

    That's about it. Happy Friday.


    Thursday, October 13, 2005
    diana   I   ellie   I   kira

    My God do I ever hate this midweek shit. Just get me over the damn hump and straight down the other side. Yeah, whatever. It all sucks balls from where I'm standing.

    Well, sitting actually.

    No matter. It all comes out in the wash. Or most of it anyway. The rest is with you until you die.

    Today's linkage:

    cafepress.com/rightwingstuff/256239
    camel toads?
    If you really love your bike...

      From: PZ
    Subject: fat ass BS
    Yo Jonny,
    Long time viewer, first time writer. That sounded so lame...

    What's with you always saying you'ra a fat ass? I seen those pics of you on DC, so wtf are you talking about. You want to see a sore fat ass? Check out me out after my first MTB race (blueclaws.multiply.com/photos/photo/5/7.JPG), now's a gut! LOL. Ah well, that's what the off-season is for right---to get down to race weight for next season...Or just sit at home with a winter lager on the couch, like your boy Jan Ullrich, watching Price is Right reruns.

    Spin that wheel, ol' lady, spin that wheel.

    keep doin what you do,
    pz

    Right on. I've looked like that a few times. Like just about every time I try to ride a bike.

      From: Andrew
    Subject: IMBA Bowl
    check the pic: matchvideozine.com/geoffhole.jpg

    from lutze's site: matchvideozine.com

    tell the night pirate to stop jumping like a 12 year old and fucking buy a bike already

    I have it on good authority Andrew writes for Law Review at his Law College. Good looking out, that shit ain't easy.

    This next email is a few weeks old. But, fuck it, I'm posting it.

      From: Dean
    Subject: British traitors
    Hi Dude
    Just thought you would like to know what those two british riders were doing at the front of the Worlds RR bunch... They both ride for Italian teams and were each paid Ł4000 to keep the Tempo up!

    Its kicking off over here!
    veloriders.co.uk/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=28857

    They say in the World Championships, when a rider goes up the road, you don't look at his jersey, you look at his shorts.

      From: Nate
    Subject: good music
    This guy played here in Jonesboro last night and rocked the house. They're out of Akron, OH. They recorded with Jimbo Mathus, and others in the band played with the Black Keys, another great Akron band. On the site here you can download tracks off some albums and an entire live set. Enjoy. cheers,
    nate.
    patricksweany.com/henryfordbedroom/music.htm

    And there you have it.

      From: Duey Mon
    Subject: #@$* DA POLICE
    Hey there D.C. Long time listener first time caller... Any way I thought I would share with u the haps tonight in Charleston SC. Riding home tonight on the 'ole extra cycle(extracycle.com) with a bright ass head light I was blatantly cut off by a guy in a Caddy. Not 15 seconds later I, low and behold, see a cop(pig) parked on the side of the road. So, being the mindful commuter/ single speed mtn. biker/ part time road weenie I am I stop to report the incident.. Lets just say I was blown off. What the Fuck is up! We as cyclists are told by these Fucking Pigs to report these type of things. This is Bull Shit! I shined my bright ass light into the pigs face, briefly to let him know I was there and had to wait at least a minute till he got off his Fucking Cell phone! When he finally did... I get the "Yeah you gotta watch out for that kinda thing around here" comment. Any way, It just is starting to boil my ass. I've been doing this stuff, with bikes forever, and its finally starting to PISS ME OFF! What ever happened to common courtesy? Any way Great site! Keep up the Girls and Booze! Love it! Have fun in Vegas! I'm moving to Knoxville, TN soon and if there is any S.S.ers there would love to hook up!
    Thanks for the Rant! -

    Due to the overwhelming number of emails about close calls with cars and damn near getting killed stories, I want to direct folks to a thread I've started in DC forum. It ain't much, but if you want to share your fuck-a-car stories, that'd be a good place to list them.

    I even started a poll so you can vote on the worst car offender you deal with. And, how exciting, my first poll.

    Does that make me gay?

    Here's a good email for ya.

      From: Jesse
    Subject: crashing sucks
    Jonny,

    This is long one:

    Reading Erik's account of his wreck, brought me back to my similar one a few years ago, but first a few tips for Erik or anyone who has been involved in a similar accident (Unfortunately, I have first-hand experience): First off, get an attorney! I hate our overly litigious society, but if I didn't have an attorney, I would have gotten exactly nothing for something that happened because someone else couldn't have been bothered to pay attention to the road, and/or lied about what light they had. You will pay 30-40% of the settlement to them. Some bucks, is much better than no bucks. I found one who is also a cyclist, so he knew what it was like to ride in a urban area and deal with traffic. Get references talk to a couple of people who were clients if you can. Don't call the ambulance chasers on the back of the phone book. Second, don't give up. It will take a long time. It took me almost two years to arrive at a settlement. But I did. The drivers insurance company was hoping I'd go away. I didn't. (Also, don't settle until you are actually done healing.) Third, act and look professional when going into depositions or court. They would love to paint you as a miscreant or social outcast because you ride a bike. Iron that coat and tie. Speak clearly and formally. Remain calm. Don't let them fluster you whey you are giving your deposition. They will ask you the same question 127 different ways. It is the insurance company attorney's job to find holes in your story, and they are trained to do so. It isn't personal. If you make a good witness, and they can't trip you up in deposition, they will be more likely to settle before court, because you will be a more formidable opponent. Fourth, there is a statute (at least in Texas) called "Made Whole" or something like that. Insurance companies will, and can legally recoup what they have paid out, if there is a settlement (it's called subrogation). However, if the amount of the settlement, does not make you "whole" (eg. it does not cover your medical expenses, lost wages, or to some extent pain and suffering), you can argue that they shouldn't get to recover their money (this applies to both auto and health insurance). The insurance company I was fighting backed down. Fifth, you can make a claim for your bike and gear on your homeowners or renters insurance policy. Mine covered 10% of the policy amount off site. Do be aware that this will make it hard to get new or change companies for up to three years after the claim. I didn't know this, and when I was looking for insurance to buy a house after this ordeal was all over, and it was like I was getting punished for something that wasn't my fault. It is the only time in my life I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I do recommend getting underinsured motorist coverage. Since this accident happened on a road (a bike is a vehicle too) it was covered by my own policy. Most of people don't have enough liability coverage to really pay for causing serious injury to someone. It is baffling how fast hospital bills add up. Did I say get an attorney? Yeap, did. Get one. Really, I mean it. There are so many hoops to jump through, that it would have been overwhelming without one. Saying the wrong thing to an insurance agent can make all the difference in whether you get paid or not.

    Now, my story (I'll keep the goriest bits out, but I still feel a little weird telling the story): I was riding home from work, thinking about a going away party for a friend and a pretty girl that I was going to see there. I was in a good mood. I don't know if you are familiar with Texas highways, but most of them have one way frontage roads on both sides (at least in urban areas). I've been through this particular intersection hundreds of times. I was commuting 4-5 days per week at the time, and had been taking that route to the shop I work at for a couple of years. There was almost no traffic, it had just gotten dark, but I had a full light kit at it's brightest setting. I was cruzing down the one hill on my route. There is a long straightaway leading up to the freeway crossing. I could see that I had a green light for 100 yards. Not only was the first frontage road light green for my lane, but the second one was as well. They were for a while. As I said, I had been through this intersection hundreds of times. Never had there been a car in the intersection, when my lights were green. Never until this time. Even so, I had the green, and a bright light on the front of my bike. His light was green to go straight, but not to turn left.... into me... which is exactly what he did. I estimate I got my speed down to about 25mph before impact with a 1973 Olds. The last thing I remember is my head hitting his hood. I don't know how long it was until I woke up about 30feet away, partially under the guardrail. My left leg was broken in three places. Compound on the lower leg. I was no longer in a good mood. Actually I was crying like a little baby. I just went from the best fitness of my life to wondering if I was going to ride again, or in the panic of the moment, if I would even keep my leg (I did). There were no immediate witnesses to the accident. Two other people drove up from the frontage road right after the accident. When I finally stopped screaming (well that didn't actually happen, but I started going into shock), the driver came over and tried to tell me he had a green arrow to turn left. I yelled at him, a lot. This was impossible, since my light had been green for 15-20 seconds. In actuality he had to rush a yellow (maybe, if he was going really slow) or run a red (most likely he thought the red didn't apply to him when there was no traffic) on the other frontage road to get to that place in the intersection while I had a green light. The fire department EMTs came, and one of them turned out to be a customer of the shop (He has since started working for the shop part time, and is the person I credit for getting me through the wait for the ambulance without having a complete meltdown). During this time I called the pretty girl I was going to meet to tell her I'd be late. O.k., she was the last number called in my cell and I just pressed the call button. My friends were notified.

    There is no road that is going to be smooth when riding in the back of an ambulance, but the quickest route to the hospital was over a rough one. Being strapped to a board with a floppy leg, is definitely not a fun experience. Add to that, that they can't give you any painkillers until you are in the ER, under supervision of doctors, and you have what is likely the least pleasant experience of my life. Somehow, I was able to crack jokes with the ambulance staff. It kept me going. It turns out that another customer of mine was a nurse in the ER. She managed to save my shoes, which they were about to cut off. Finally, morphine. It's a strange drug. You are aware that you are really messed up, you hurt, and that there is a lot of unpleasantness to come in your life. You just don't give a shit about it if they let you keep pushing that little red button. Two of my best friend showed up, which grounded me a little. I told the doctors to stop poking at my leg. Luckily they didn't listen to me. The damage aside from the left leg having what is called a "floating knee", was a torn ACL in the right knee, serious concussion, and mildly separated shoulder. I am absolutely convinced that the helmet I was wearing, saved my life. I always wore one commuting to work or on a "real" ride, mountain or road, as I'm sure most of us do, but when I was commuting to the bar, why bother? That has changed, and I am now the dork who always has a helmet with him. I will accept dorkdom if it means I stay alive. Anyway's, there were a few more jokes, and then some anesthesia. The next morning I awoke with hardware in my leg. I was only on morphine for two days, before they switched me to hydrocodone (horse pill sized ones at first). I guess morphine is rather addictive . On day three they wanted me to move around. Excuse me?! I'm fucked up, you want me to get up on crutches. Smeg off, I'll stay in bed, thank you! No, really leave me alone to my horse pills. Where is that pretty nurse and the sponge bath??? I did eventually relent and move around, and their fears of blood clots were diminished. I could blow on the lung exerciser for longer than anyone ever. I spent a week on the trauma recovery floor. During that time I realized that my injuries were nothing compared to the guy in the halo who got hit by a train or something much worse than I did, and that I had the best friends in the world. I had visitors during every bit of visiting hours. I had so many visitors that other patients were asking if I was famous. I had friends that I hadn't seen in years, showing up. I had so many that the nurses were pissed off. It is what got me through.

    During my time there I confirmed something about nurses. It's a rule of thirds. There are about a third of them who are stellar. We need to pay them a bunch more and give them much more respect They are angles. The next third are just o.k. Yeah, they deserve more respect from those in the hospital administration, but they are just doing their job. Then the last third. They are incompetent wastes of air. They have zero people skills. They can't place an IV to save their lives. They don't care if you've been waiting for 2 hours for them to respond to the call button. You are a bother to them. By the end of my week there, me and the last third were ready to kill each other. They were ready for me to go away, and I was ready to be out of their range of incompetence. My stepmother was an ICU nurse for 20 years. I have a large sample size to come up with these ratios. I called them out on their incompetence, and they didn't like it. Yeah, I was grumpy and in a bad space, but it was time for me to go.

    After a week, a trip through the MRI machine, a bunch of X-rays, and three surgeries (one to put a rod in the femur and initially fix the lower leg, one to put rods in the lower leg, and the last one to do a skin graft on the part of my lower leg that got really tore up. I really did almost lose my lower leg), I went home for recovery. I couldn't work for a month, and then for a month after that it was only a little. My doctor wanted to slow me down. I wanted to get back on a trainer as soon as I could. Being in good shape is what helped me recover as quickly as I did. It did take three months for the skin graft to heal (there was a mud wrestling incident near the end of that, but if you weren't there to see it: me+ mud+ naked girls= fun is all you're getting. It may not have helped the graft, but it sure as hell helped the psyche). Five months after the accident, I went on a victory trip to California to go abalone diving, something I had done a lot of during college. Now over three years later, I am mostly o.k. My left leg will never be as strong as my right. I will probably always have a bit of a limp I can't run. If the escape from the predator is on foot, I'm the one getting eaten. I get knee pain if I am not super careful about building up my fitness slowly. But, I can ride, and I still commute regularly. I was actually able to build up enough strength to work pedicabing for a while. I ride through the intersection where it happened on a regular basis. It was weird the first few times. Now, I'll just never let my guard down, even the slightest bit. I realized that even though there are a bunch of shop customers who are annoying, there are a bunch more who are wonderful. Still asking how I'm doing. I consider myself lucky that I didn't have any internal injuries, serious brain damage, back injuries, something like a broken pelvis, or worse, death. All could have happened. I've had a few of the screws taken out, because they were causing tendon. I'll probably keep the rest of the screws and the bigger rods unless they start causing problems.

    I did end up having to sue the driver, and my own insurance company, and rattle the saber at my own health insurance. The driver either lied or mistakenly believed that he had a green arrow, and that was an easy way for his insurance company to try and weasel out of paying. Since his insurance comp nay didn't want to take responsibility, mine didn't want to pay out my underinsured motorist claim. In the end, it has worked out. The only other person getting money out of the settlement was my attorney. I still wish it had never happened, but life has turned out o.k. I'm not really sure what any of this rambling means. I hope that some of this can help others get through it all, if they are in a similar situation.


    Tuesday, October 11, 2005
    hello lonnie   I   hello terri   I   hello girls

    I'm still attempting to recover from the Pines to the Mines beating. You know what I always say: Dig a big hole and fall on in. When things look bleak, keep on digging. Go crazy with that shit. Nothing like hollowing out a grave to lie down in for a dirt nap.

    Don't ask me how or why, but the links on the gallery page were all screwed up. They are all fixed now, so you can all breath easy.

    Take a collective sigh of relief. Really ducked a bullet on that one, eh?

    Whatever.

    I'm all of two days into the workweek and already I'm begging for some reprieve. Jesus, I'm dying over here.

    Lets get to some links:

    rudepundit.blogspot.com
    harrietmiers.blogspot.com
    slate.msn.com/id/2119327
    thespoof.com/news/spoof.cfm?headline=s3i9144
    newtimesbpb.com/issues/2004-05-06/news.html
    newtimesbpb.com/Issues/2005-10-06/news/feature.html
    newsmax.com/archives/ic/2005/10/10/131502.shtml
    cnn.com/2005/LAW/10/11/taped.beatings/index.html
    latimes.com/....news-comment-opinions

    There are updates to Steve's condition on the Coconino Cycles webpage. I got this from from the site:

      Oct. 10, 2005 Update
    It has been five rough days with ups and downs. Bad news and good news. Steve is recovering from his accident and two operations; one to set his broken femur, the second to fuse his broken back. His spinal cord is intact but trauma has caused him loss of motion in his lower body. Everyone is optimistic that this condition is only temporary. Steve has been heavily sedated for most of the last five days. This is for the pain and to settle his frustration of his condition. It will likely be a week or two before Steve can have real visits. When that day comes we will all be there for him.

    Heavy stuff. Real heavy stuff.

    Pretty much sucks. Although it could be far worse.

      From: Feske
    Subject: What can Brown do for you? Nothing.
    Fuck them and Dale Jarrett, too.
    Spread the word. UPS letter

    Damn.

    I've got two more updates sent in from Geoff on the above and beyond ride. I figure it's about time I post them shits.

    Better late than never should be the official DC moto.

      From: Geoff
    Subject: Above and Beyond Ride - Down to the Wire!
    Wednesday Sept. 28,
    Hello from Hobbs, NM! A long day, I will say, but altogether not too bad. I woke up this AM and had the incredible Best Western continental breakfast consisting of pancakes and cinnamon raison toast. I think that is the official breakfast of champions! After leaving Roswell, I headed down the highway with a decent tail breeze. Not quite a wind, but it made for a pretty steady speed of about 22mph. The day was one long straight road after another. I mean 40 miles straight. Eastern New Mexico is like west Texas, there is not too much happening. All was good for the first one hundred miles, but the last 15 had a vicious headwind and took almost an hour and a half to ride. To make things worse, sorry to complain, it was a sandstorm due to all the gravel driveways, so it was a constant sandblasting into Hobbs. I felt destroyed by the time I made it to the motel. After a shower and a meal at the Cattle Baron I feel ready to rock again tomorrow. It will be 91 miles to Odessa, and will be the last day of riding since we need to be in Austin by Saturday. During the last 15 miles, I really wanted to give up, but I thought about all of you who have supported me and who believe in this cause, all of the people who will benefit as the result of your contributions and of Geoff 12 years ago sick in a hospital bed. He would tell me that I am the luckiest guy in the world and that I can never give up on what I believe in. He would say that if I have the chance to make a difference I owe it to him and everyone else who suffers. I thank you all so much for the supportive emails and warm wishes. They have helped me to push past some tough moments on this trip that seems like it will be over far too soon. Once again, I'm in the final stretch, and I am asking you to help me finish strong. Please contact anyone that you know to give them the chance to contribute and give of yourself to help make this great. You can contribute at the website aboveandbeyondride.com on the "To Contribute" page. Again, thank you all so much! Love, Geoff

      From: Geoff
    Subject: Above and Beyond Ride - Over?
    Over? Not even close!

    Monday, October 3
    Hello from Houston!
    Sorry for the gap in the emails, but it has been pretty busy. Since I last left you, I took off from Hobbs, NM and had a short ride in the cold and wind ending in Odessa, TX. We stayed the night at my cousin Mark Weaver's house. Shelly treated us to a nice dinner and we left the next morning. It was a long drive to Austin, but we needed to arrive by Sat as I was meeting with some friends and contacts. My good friend Vytis Vardys and his wife Sally hosted us on Fri and Sat night, and we hung out at his bike shop, Ozone Bike Dept, way too much. I cleaned my bike on Sat, and generally started winding down from the ride. Castle Hill Fitness graciously extended a day pass, so I enjoyed the use of the fine facilities to aid in my recovery. Babe flew back to OK on Sat after going above and beyond the call both in his dedication to this cause and his dedication as a friend. You are the best, Babe! On Sun, I went on a short ride with Vytis in the morning, had some lunch and then went to the LAF/Sheryl Crow concert at Auditorium Shores. It was really nice. I stayed the night with Jim and Nora Zarvos, had a great visit, good night's sleep, and left this morning to come to Houston. My mom and I arrived at M.D. Anderson around noon and watched the arrival of the Tour of Hope. It was quite a celebration. I spent some time visiting with patients in the Sarcoma department today. I met a great young man, Jon Stewart and his parents Sue and Ken. Jon is 17. He was diagnosed with an Osteosarcoma (I think) on his left femur. He had chemo which reduced the size of the tumor followed by the removal of the head of his femur which was replaced with cadaver bone. He was so upbeat and courageous, his family so sweet and loving. It was truly inspirational.

    Check out his band's webpage at myspace.com/takingnotice . I spoke with several people at M.D. Anderson about the presentation of the money, and I believe that I will come back in Nov/Dec so that my Oncologist Dr. Andy Burgess will be able to be there. It just was not the same being there today without him. Now that the trip is basically over, I have to say that this has been one of the most inspiring things that I have ever done. There were times when I laughed, cried, gave up, dug deeper, reached out, shut down and just kept going. Thinking of the support you gave and the people that will benefit fired me back up every time. It is up to all of us to make the world a better place, and this was my way of doing that. I thank all of you for supporting this effort, which would not have been possible without every one of you. Next year is going to be even bigger, and I will keep you all posted as to the progress. If you have not yet had a chance to contribute, I will be accepting contributions until I go back to Houston at the end of next month. Please see the website to contribute. www.aboveandbeyondride.com We don't get today back, so make it great! Love to all, Geoff

    Good looking out, Geoff.

      From: Peter S.
    Subject: Disorderly Conduct?
    So I'm heading west on a street near my house having just left for a ride and a car passes me leaving absolutely no space, as though I did not exist (I'm wearing a fluorescent riding jacket). Being an extraordinarily windy day I felt quite unsafe. Passing motorists must leave cyclists clearance, it's more than arms length and he didn't give me that. Anyway, being rush hour I was able to catch up with him at a close by corner where I gave his window an open hand smack. This dumb-ass in a gray Oldsmobile Alero ND license GAW 328 tried to kill me! He literally hammered his throttle and tried to execute my ass. I accelerated out of the way and started heading down a bike path when I saw the fat old bastard running as fast as he could to catch me. He had parked in a nearby lot and got out of his car and tried to chase me down on foot. Well that didn't work either. As soon as he saw me he biffed it hard. He got up slowly and said I should keep riding and I started taunting him to keep running. I rounded back got his license and called five-oh on the bitch. . . didn't take long for them to catch him either. This guy was way out of hand and the law needs to start cracking down on guys like him as it does on W. Whether I like it or not I need to get to know my city's attorney. After all, cyclists are in the perfect position to practice surveillance, watching from below.

    I like the part where Peter taunts the fat bastard after he falls down. That shit is hilarious.

    I wish it always worked out so well.

      From: Bob
    Subject:
    I didn't know the woman, but the accident happened about 300 yards from my house on a road I ride at least 4 times a week, and I drove by 15 minutes after with my 4 and 2 year old kids in the car. Real fun trying to explain to them why this bicycle and body were UNDER a Mercedes SL. It's a 4 lane divided road, VERY wide shoulder and bike lane (10 feet or more), just a 68 year old idiot driver who drifted into the bike lane and ran her down. As usual, I don't have much hope they'll nail the bastard to the wall, but the only reason that might happen is that the victim's only sibling is an assistant District Attorney in the county, so that may encourage a bit more hard-ass attitude than reasonable.
    almanacnews.com/morgue/2005/2005_10_05.amazzei.shtml

    Glad to see your buddy looks to be OK, albeit after what will probably be a long and not fun rehab.

    I've posted so many emails regarding cyclists getting tagged I don't even know what to say anymore.

    I mean, really. What the fuck is wrong with people?

    And I'm really sorry to hear about what those two kids just went through. I can't imagine that was anything other than completely traumatizing.

    I got an email concerning what to do with those drivers that run down our cyclist brothers and sisters. I bit hot headed perhaps, but I can understand the sentiment.

      From: The Avenging Scorcher
    Subject: Justice
    Brother John,
    How about if you post the home address, work address, home phone and Social Security number of each of these assclowns that have struck down one of our number? We'll take it from there.

    Tempting, isn't it? But I can't see it doing much good. Of course, that's easy for me to say sitting here with a bomber of Newcastle in the comfort and relative safety of the DC world headquarters (read: spare bedroom).

    Just wait to the next time I almost get creamed by some prick in a Hummer. Which will probably happen tomorrow.

    Reminds me of a joke:

    What's the difference between a cactus and a Hummer H2?

    With a cactus, the pricks are on the outside…

      From: Rob
    Subject: Jerseys that save lives
    Hey
    The old piece of shit checkin in. At 43 with a 11 & 13 year olds to put through school I can only hope to afford tuition. I ride trails most of the time, but have been to the dark side of road riding as of late.
    All I can saw is what the fuck are people thinking. I rode Harleys in my early twenties and had to watch out for cages then. But on bikes we are movin way slower and they still don't see ya.
    I am thinkin bright jerseys with:

    WIFE AND
    KIDS AT
    HOME.

    DON'T KILL
    ME KID
    NEEDS
    COLLEGE

    SOLE
    FAMILY
    PROVIDER

    Johnny take the ball and run with it.....hope you make millions........or beer money.

    Rob
    AKA Oldin Sloe

    I like where you're going with this. Anything to stay off the hood of a Buick is good by me at this point.

    Now that we're all good an pissed, and I'm assuming you are as fed up as I am, I'll post this next one.

      From: Carl
    Subject: local cunt
    Big Jonny,
    We have a small local rag out here in Jefferson County Colorado that runs a opinion piece that features a lefty and rightly debating the issues. This week's was titled "Do bicyclists have the same rights as cars?". Big surprise that the Republican attorney Kelly Weist (who looks like she'd be more comfortable on the wrong end of a strap-on than in a court room) disregards the often touted 'rule of law' and says "No".

    Here are some of the shockingly ignorant comments from Weist...."They (roads) are not bike trails, and were not meant to be."...."My neighbors tell me that riders have stopped and had picnics on their property....and have blocked their drives with bikes."..."I say ban 'em (bikes) before I run 'em over."..."It isn't about stupidity, Greg, it's about arrogance"..."The point is that our mountain roads are roads, not bike paths"...." don't get why MY neighborhood and MY road, which was not built as a bike path, suddenly become Disneyland in the summer".

    She goes on to say that "Mountain bikers" make the roads dangerous; giving a free pass to drivers to behave badly. Additionally, she tries to make the claim that these roads are "neighborhood roads" which is a distortion that would make Karl Rove blush.

    She might have forgotten that bikers in CO do in fact have the same rights as cars - it's literally the law. End of argument. They are not HER roads they are EVERYONE'S roads. Of course, I'm just a arrogant, drive blocking, picnic eating, 'mountain biker' on the road looking for his next Disneyland adventure in some poor 'publicans neighborhood- so I might be a little biased.

    I hate giving these bitches the spotlight but I'm a little pissed.

    You can read and reply to the piece here: columbinecourier.com/story_display.php?sid=1243

    And if you feel strongly about Weist's comments then you can drop the newspaper a line at:

    news@evergreenco.com

    or contact their editor Steve Jackson at 303-350-1039 Keep up the good work on the site.

    And finally something a bit more uplifting.

      From: Random Guy
    Subject: LiveWRONG
    So I liked the bike that was raffled off at Tour de Fat so much that I decided to LiveWRONG myself. I stripped the paint off my Nuke Proof frame, polished it up, and slapped some DC and LiveWRONG decals on it....

    members.cox.net/jadavis/livewrong.html

    Right on man, right on. We do aim to please.


    Monday, October 10, 2005
    iveta   I   tatiana   I   jesse

    Hero Johan Museeuw in court. I guess he's trying to find a way to explain this. Yeah, good luck with that, Johan.

    Nice to know what it really takes to win that big classic.

    Kinda sounds like Prentice Steffen got a letter in the mail recently, doesn't it? Maybe he got threatened with a lawsuit? Could happen. Same story over at velonews.

    I got an email about the lawsuit threat question:

      From: John N.
    Subject: RE: Steffen retracts L'Equipe comments - Physician resigns post with TIAA-CREF
    not sure johnny, as he has shot his mouth off before, so i assume he has been threatened previously.......but this "letter of retraction" sure looks as if somebody wrote it for him, and he signed it with a BFG pressed to his head..... ;-)

    Yeah, it reads like that shit the KGB used to put before prisoners. I'm surprised he didn't admit to being the third gunman on the grassy knoll for good measure.

    Check out the I heart bikes shirts. Trust me, you need one.

    Folding Ritchey Cross
    SUVs kill more pedestrians
    anticon.biz
    blog.dccc.org/mt/archives/003676.html
    eyeofthestorm.blogs.com/eye_of_the_storm/2005/09/josiah.html
    shame, shame, shame
    theonion.com/content/node/41194
    ubertap.com

    The Eagles got their collective asses handed to them yesterday by the fucking Cowboys. I'm really happy about it. I'm just glad I went hiking up on the Peaks to soak up some fall color instead of wasting my time watching that shit. As it stands, I watched the second half. That sucked enough.

    The Pines to the Mines ride is in the books. Third running, third time out for the big man, and first time finishing for my fat ass. What a mother. This was the biggest turn out so far with sixteen starters. I expect next year will be much larger. I've been giving the go ahead to blow it wide open. 'Round about the second week of October next year, we'll be riding from Flagstaff to Jerome on dirt. Eighty two miles of blessed suffering.

    So clear you calendar now.

    This year there was an actual hand blown glass "pimp cup" chalice for the first man (or woman) to Jerome. The taker of the inaugural winners cup was none other than AZ Bikes own Bricycles. He took a deserving win with a six hour solo effort. Yes, he was rocking the early break like his name was Claudio Chiappucci.

    Me? I felt good for the first five or six hours. Then it all started to come apart. By the time I made it off the rim and down to the river, I was in a world of hurt. I stopped at the days one sag stop down at the Perkinsville bridge, took off my helmet and waved good bye to my two compatriots. We were trying to reel Bricycles back in. It wasn't working, and I was done.

    I sat around for a few minutes as more riders trickled in. After a Gatorade, a coke, and a hand full of Cheezits I started off again will my man Jeff. We had both done the two prior versions of the event, and we had both packed it in before the finish. The first time out wasn't so much quitting as completely cracking. There was no sag that first year, and Jeff and I ended up under a bush seeking some relief from the blasting heat. It sucked balls.

    I started out, very slowly. I had to nurse it along for another :45 minutes of slow pedaling and even some walking. I got better eventually and finished feeling mostly human. It got better, as things often do after you drink a shit ton of water, take in a bunch of electrolytes and calories.

    Mostly anyway.

    There was a stiff headwind for most of the ride, and it didn't let up. Down in the valley, it was a like an oven in your face. Top that off with the motorcycle rally we were "sharing" the road with and you have a recipe for fun.

    I almost got tagged twice by those asshole on blind right hand corners they were coming up and crossing way on to my side of the road. Like they were less than two feet from the inside edge of what, for them, was a blind uphill left. Talk about taking chances, about half of these guys were completely out of control scary.

    The other half were guys who actually rode a good deal, kept their bikes under control and slowed down for us cyclists. You could tell what was coming when the rider would slow up and signal the riders behind him to also slow. Some would even signal how many were in there group with outstretching fingers. It was a nice touch.

    Anyway, I ate dust for nearly twenty miles as there must have been hundreds of people involved in the rally. I'm just glad there wasn't any cars bearing down on me. With my luck, I'd be a white cross on the side of the road right now.

    The whole thing started at 7:00 am from Pay-n Take. Sixteen started, seven finished. In the first few dirt road miles the road guys started stretching their legs. Including out Cat I State Champion Lovedog. He was looking good until he went straight when he should have turned right after the cattle guard.

      From: Loveday
    Subject: cruel joke
    Jonny,
    I just got home in the rain from this morning's ride....that was a cruel joke not telling Gabe and I where to turn....we ended up near Crown King somehow after a full day of cursing you ;( ended up bumming a ride from a pick up truck on I-17 that broke down near the Stoneman Lk. exit only to have to ride it in. won't forget this one anytime soon.

    Shit. I told him to turn right.

    Anyway, it's all in fun. Lovedog was planning on turning around and heading home early anyway. He really didn't end up at Crown King.

    Speaking of Crown King, that's a ride we've got to do this fall. Talk about a good time. Twenty something miles up into the hills, most of it climbing. And there is a bar at the turn around point. That is my kind of riding.

    I'd try to write more, share some colorful anecdotes and all that, but to be honest I'm pretty blown out. I'm still a little on the fuzzy side after an eight and a half hour day with a good hour of that spend bonked out of my God damn mind. So bonked I had to get off an walk when I couldn't push a 22 x 24 on a fucking dirt road.

    Yeah, that's bonking.

    And the worst part: I'd do it all again given the chance.

    Just like we all would.


    Friday, October 7, 2005
    nastik   I   lucie   I   ayanna

    Happy Friday everyone. Time to beat ourselves up all weekend.

    I've just managed to "recover" from the last self inflicted round of damage. Time to saddle up and get serious. Something about the weird going pro…

    A legend in Tempe, if not the greater Phoenix area, has some of his finest work available on the internet for your listening pleasure. Yes, I'm talking about Bob Schriner and his phone skills. This guy is a badass. Check it out right over at chunklet.com/current_17_fire.cfm.

    I just hope this guy doesn't ever call me. God knows what he'll have me doing. Slamming my dick in a drawer or some shit.

    This is rich. More doping allegations about US Postal over at velonews.com.

    Yep. Pro's dope. That's life. Deal with it.

    A damn good update over at onespeeder about our man Garro.

    Check out nyvelocity.com

    Or course today's paper splashed the accident report on the front page with the balance of the article on page 8. I'd link to the article (azdailysun.com), but lets just say our local paper leaves a bit to be desired in the online department. It's not up on the site yet.

    Factually clumsy and way out of touch, the write up does what we all knew it would.

    Blame Steve Garro.

    "Police officials say preliminary investigation indicated that Garro was at fault and that alcohol was present at the scene."

    Also from the article, Deputy Chief Brent Cooper of the Flagstaff Police Department said, "the possibility of alcohol being involved in the accident is under investigation. Accident reports list the presence of the odor of alcohol, and the presence of alcohol containers at the scene."

    Great. Cyclist a drunk miscreant who broke the law and rode in a dangerous manner "at a high rate of speed" and "was not wearing a helmet at the time of the collision."

    What did we expect? I mean what else happens when a cyclist gets greased?

    The benevolent automobile is good, and the evil cyclist is bad. Always. Every damn time.

    Some good news from our man Zeke:

      From: Zeke
    Subject: just call me one eye…
    Well its is official but not horrible. I will be blind in my right eye forever. Lucky for me I still have the left one which I will have to take extremely good care of. As the eye doctor said this morning always wear some kind of safety glasses, protect that eye. So on the up side I have pretty much already adapted to only using one. For example I rode my bike to the library to use this computer (And that was fun, its good to be back on the bike!) The good thing the doc had to say was that bike riding (although the cause of my accident) is what made my recovery so quick. The fact that I was used to using all four limbs and had good balance helped a lot. And unlike the first eye doctor (jackass) he said "Get back on the bike! However, wear a damn helmet and some eye protection." He is a commuter himself and might come by a new bike from me now (bonus!).

    So not that it has to be said but please keep in mind that when around me that sneaking up on my right side to surprise me is not funny. Nor is riding up on my right during a ride and not letting me know that you are coming or are there. I guess I an gonna have to site out of derbies from now on. Suck, ah well so it is. Maybe I will develop a sixth sense and just know that stuff is on my right... maybe?

    So now that I rode today I am going to start making a regular habit of it again and hopefully things will get better. I head back to work on Monday on a part time basis for the first week to readjust. It feels good to be back.

    It's good to have you back.

      From: Big Gay Randy
    Subject: Moab Rocks
    Hey Jonny,
    Just wanted to say hey from Moab UT. I'm hanging out up here for a couple of months and working at the local bike shop, check out the web site chilebikes.com.

    The 24hr race is this weekend, I'm going out to check it out, but not racing. Hope to hang out with Aaron from Highti. He's supporting a solo racer and bring out some frames and headset tools for emergency fixes. He's got some bitchin new Ti frames and such highticycles.com.

    You should get your fat ass up here for the Moab Bike Fest moabbikefest.com. Its going down over Halloween weekend (otherwise known as my B-Day). Its sounds like it going to be one hella wild time. Seems the locals go all out for Halloween around here. Bring you best outfit. And watch out for the Pirate show. Hope to see you in the desert soon. One last link for the road. richcleveland.com

    B.G.R.


    Thursday, October 6, 2005
    crissy and friend   I   terri summers   I   liz looks like trouble

    Finally what feels like a normal update. And not a moment to soon.

    In two weeks I'm slated to line up at the Soul Ride. I've got zero fitness and a liver swollen to Cheney-like proportions. Which, as if it needs clarification, is quite big indeed.

    And, as if I wasn't already throwing myself down a flight of stairs with the Soul Ride thing, I'm riding the Pines the the Mines this coming Saturday. Ye, once again the fat man is going to attempt to ride from Flagstaff to Jerome on dirt. This will be the third start and possibly the first actual finish.

    This issue isn't so much the distance, which is a real bitch in and of itself. Nor is the problem with the massive climb up to Jerome. No, what kills me each time is the 4 to 5 hour slog to the first and only feed station. This episode in suffering is all about how much water can you carry on your back. Four bottles and a 100 oz. Bladder may seem like a lot. Sure, it's heavy, it rolls around on your back. In short, it sucks.

    Until you ride the last 45 minutes to an hour with nothing and I mean nothing left. Then life really starts to suck. That's when you know Jesus hates you. Then you wish you had slogged around at the 7:00 am start with another 100 oz. bladder, a six pack of cokes and maybe a few airline bottles of rum in your bag. Anything but what you have now: A sum total of dick.

    So, two attempts, two dry runs to Perkinsville. Two times climbing off in tears.

    In case you're wondering, and I was the first time out, Perkinsville ain't much of a town. It's a bridge over the Verde River. And that's it. Not one fucking building.

    Why it's even mentioned on any maps I have no idea.

    Link dump:

    boomantribune.com/?op=display...
    beckybroeder.com
    incident.net/works/miseanu/nues.html
    004.gamushara.net/bbs/bicycle
    static.flickr.com/6/5449940_2ae0009eae.jpg?v=0
    cnn.com/2005/US/10/05/gater.python.ap/index.html
    photo.pinkbike.com/photo/608/pbpic608714.jpg
    funfreepages.com/flash/america_fuck_yeah.php
    skibbysez.blogspot.com

    What do they call Wednesday? Hump Day. Get over this bitch and it's all gravy. What about a Thursday then? What do they call that? The easy glide down the back slope to the weekend?

    Yeah right. I feel like I've been put through a blender. This ain't downhill to shit.

    Cept' maybe the downhill to Shitsville, USA.

    I guess it's time to start riding again. My heads just not in it. Wish me luck.

    Goodbye Ludo, thanks for the memories…

    From cyclingnews.com

    The oldest professional rider of the peloton, Ludo Dierckxsens, will end his career on October 16, two days after his 41st birthday. The Landbouwkrediet-Colnago rider will say goodbye to cycling with a big event in Tessenderlo, Belgium, where fellow colleagues Tom Steels and World Champion Tom Boonen, are expected amongst many others. In true Belgian style, there will be a criterium to be raced in the afternoon, before his farewell party takes place on the town's market place.

    "If I get the chance, I'd like to stay in cycling," Dierckxsens said. "You do meet a lot of people as a rider, and I have the necessary know-how. I'm satisfied with my carrier. I became a pro when I was 30 years old, to see what I was worth in the peloton. With a little luck, I would have even won a big race!," he added. The Belgian won the 11th stage of the Tour de France 1999, and the National Championship in the same year.

    Yeah buddy. I'll miss old Ludo.

    The cab driver that struck and killed Allan Butler in Las Vegas last week will not be charged in the accident.

      From: Andy S.
    Subject: did you see this?
    Third item down, I'm sure you're going to like it.
    ninerbikes.com/orderforms/partsandaccess.html

    Like it? Shit I got me one.

      From: eric d.
    Subject: hey…
    hey big jonny
    the recent spate of road accidents is a worry to me, I really hope all goes well with your buddy. Difficult to identify any positive side to these types of very unnecessary events. The only good i can see at the moment is the growing sense of like minded community being projected through DC as a response to such accidents. Not many sports or websites come to think of it have such an element, and if our marginalised community can merge closer through drunk cyclist in the face of such events i suppose that is one good thing.
    regards from england
    eric...

    That is precisely what I'm aiming to do.

      From: Jason A.
    Subject: Garro
    Oh fucking no. Man, not another one. I'm really glad he is ok as far as feeling in his feet and concious...jesus man. I've only met the man a few times and I was plowed while the meetings occurred so...I don't remember much except that he's a really good guy. He builds his own shit, how fucking cool is that? Top of the cool scale is how cool.

    The whole car hitting biker thing is getting way out of hand and really fucking scary. I was the victim of a hit and run years back and now have to fight off gran mal seizures and a killer hospital bill as a result. I'm just glad I'm still here and can still ride and am equally happy that Steve made it alive.

    The ignorant, cell phone talking, cd changing, radio station searching, gawking at the scenery, make up applying, balancing the check book and taking pictures while driving shitheads need to WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! Every dumbfuck who hits someone either on a bike or walking/jogging/running should have their reproductive system disabled so they can't generate more idiots.

    Anyway wish the best for Garro and all the others out there who have been the target of a car. Best of luck to all.

    I got a ton of emails like this. A ton. Please feel free to post whatever you want over on the DC forum thread I started earlier for Steve. I'm never going to be able to post all these emails.

      From: Mike G.
    Subject: Cars R Weapons
    Hey,
    Sorry to hear about your buddy being taken down…Is it me or has there been a noticeable increase in car/bike collisions? What can we, as the DC community, do to raise awareness about the carnage? Could there be a running tally of accidents posted somewhere on the page, with a listing of the number of fatalities, number of prosecutions related to those accidents and fatalities…maybe start a legal defense fund so those who get hit can have the best, most potent legal representation when they go to court…I don’t know what it is, open to suggestions.

    What I do know is that most of us who visit this site have been laid out across the hood of a car or SUV at some point and we all wince in shared pain when we read about on of our brothers or sisters getting taken down hard. And, I’m getting sick of it.

    I know it is more effective on a local level to get our representatives to take action but, again, what can we do as an aggregated community of like-minded individuals to turn up the volume on this?

    I don't know what the answer is. I'm afraid to run a tally of bicycle/car accidents and deaths. It'd be so fucking depressing. I might as well set up some counter and say "every fifteen minutes another cyclist is killed in this country."

    I would hardly be lying.

    Maybe we can look to advocacy groups like the League of American Bicyclists. After all, they are IMBA for road bikes.

    I'm gonna wrap this one up on a high note.

      From: Scott H.
    Subject: Vegas Drunk Cyclist
    My buddies and I poured some out for Drunk Cyclist at Vegas.
    scottharaldson.com/images/interbike2005/drunkcyclist.jpg


    Thursday, October 6, 2005
    dc forum thread

    I've set up a thread over on the DC Forums for Steve. Click here.

    And, yes, there is once again a forum as part of your drunkcyclist.com experience. This thing was on a server that got hacked, jacked and otherwise overhauled last year. I've been trying to get it sorted since then.

    That type of thing is way out of my area of expertise. So I was dependent on others to sort it out for me. Like I have any expertise to begin with, right? So the forum is once again live. Have at it.


    Thursday, October 6, 2005
    Garro update

    More news on the Steve Garro front for all of you out there.

    And, In case you're wondering, I make it a habit of shortening names on DC as a courtesy. When you run a pill party porn laden website like I do, you have to take steps to protect the names of the innocent.

    And in the case of Melissa G., the not-really-all-that-innocent.

      From: Melissa G.
    Subject: Steve Garro
    Steve's femur was broken in five places and according to Nate A. (Neurosurgeon and friend of Steve's) the bones are aligned and will heal normally in time. They are taking him to another surgery at 5pm to work on his spine and to try to repair the trauma there to avoid any more damage to the spinal cord. Nate said he could feel his toes but could not push when asked. Only time will tell as to his recovery as spinal cases can change overnight. He will be in the hospital for at least 2-3 weeks so they can keep him immobilized after the surgery. Nate is an excellent surgeon so he's in great hands.

    All we can do is wait and hope. According to M. Gullo, who's with Denise now, he's been sedated so visitors should be kept at a minimal. He's in room 15 of the ICU and is in and out of sleep.

    And this one:

      From: M.F.
    Subject: RE: Garro hit by car
    talked to denise this morning. she seems pretty optimistic about the probably outcome of the upcoming back surgery. MRI showed no spinal cord damage, so they are hoping that the inability to move legs is based in trauma swelling around the cord. apparently the neurosurgeon doing the cat scan also pointed out to denise that it should now go on record that garro has an abnormally thick skull. probably not such a surprise to some of us, but it's on record now. stupid helmetless fuck.

    not that i can talk, been lidless myself on more than one occasion.

    I've always suspected he was some kind of missing link...


    Thursday, October 6, 2005
    the stupid early update

    I just received an update via email on Steve Garro's condition from my man Ribsteak. This guy is a nurse up at Flagstaff Medical Center so I figure he knows what he's talking about. And, he's the guy who stapled my head together last year when I busted it wide open.

    I can thank him for that nice part I'll have for the rest of my life.

    Also, I forgot to mention, Ribsteak won the raffle for the Live Wrong bike. That smug bastard gets to ride that sweetheart around for the rest of his god damn life. I will never stop hating him for that.

    Just kidding. I didn't even enter the raffle. I'm a little to close to it to "win" if you know what I'm saying. It just wouldn't be sporting.

    Steve Garro was the one who welding the damn bike in the first place. And yes, we live in a very small and incestuous town.

    It appears I had the wrong vertebrae listed as damaged in my last update. The correction will now be made via this update I suppose. And I will continue to update as new information arrives.

      From: Brian "Ribsteak" R.
    Subject: Steve update, 01:10 Thurs AM
    Just got back from FMC (01:10). All the top dogs are on the case, many injuries to sort out. So far so good, about 2 more hours of surgery to go tonight. T11 repair tomorrow. Send all the Love to Steve and Denise.


    Wednesday, October 5, 2005
    fuck a link.

    The update I was putting together earlier today just got yarded.

    A good friend of mine, a former co-worker, former roommate, local rider, Mutant, freak, hard man, sub nine hour Leadville finisher, frame builder and the man behind Coconino Cycles, Steve Garro got hit by a car tonight on Cedar Avenue. I don't have a whole lot to go on at the moment, but I'll post what I got. My man the Gnome is up at the ER and phoned me in an update.

    Steve is in the hospital with a broken femur and a fractured L7 vertebrae. He's out of the MRI and there is no sign of spinal cord damage. And, this is really important, he's able to move his feet.

    He's conscious. And he's one tough son of a bitch.

    Steve, I'm tipping a can of Tecate northward toward the hospital for you buddy.

    I am so fucking sick of cars hitting people I can't even find the words. I feel like punching holes in the walls with my face. Could be the beer talking. Or the frustration.

    I will post more information as I get it.

     
    Tuesday, October 04, 2005
    mellie   I   luna lane   I   chrissy moran

    Oh hell. Looks like all of our penises are going to stop working.

    I guess it's a good thing I don't need mine anymore.

    Two days into the work week and I'm starting to feel better. Almost, dare I say it, normal. How could have ever imagined such a turn of events.

    Did you see what Michael Boogerd had to say about Boom Boom Boonen and the World Championship Road Race?

    "Tom Boonen is a great champion. What a fantastic season he's ridden. In the coming years, we can expect a lot from him. I give it to the Belgian team too, because they rode as one. In any case, I'm happy that the Italians didn't win. It's unbelievable how arrogant the guys were on their bikes. The whole race, they looked at everyone like they were inferior. As if they couldn't lose this race. As if the rest were riding for scraps. A rider like Pozzato, who rides with an air as if he's by far the best rider. Now, they finished behind. Their coach Franco Ballerini will complain that he based most of the race on sprinter Alessandro Petacchi. Di Luca, Basso and Cunego, they were the right guys who could have made the difference here. What that means is that they read it totally wrong. Opposite to the Italians, the sobriety of the low countries is rewarded. The Belgians and the Dutch demonstrated that they could also ride a strong finale."

    I got that quote from cyclingnews.com.

    Spent the Sunday after my three day bender at the Grand Canyon. Staring into that massive void seemed to help the liver damage, deviated septum and full blown AIDS I brought back from Vegas. Kinda like that first Monday after Ragbrai. Except without the sunburn.

    I feel like a fucking vampire.

    I'm particularly impressed with Snake. He hung in like a pro. Then he came back and actually rode his bike. I mean like training rode his bike. Shit. I can't even spell bike.

    I rode to work. Then I rode home. Then I sat on my sofa for a while. Oh, the horror. The horror.

    I guess that's why he gets third at Leadville and I get one hundred and fiftieth.

    Little late with this next one. Blame it on the Vegas Time Warp. Because it's real. Just like dinosaur bones and stuff.

      From: Geoff
    Subject: Hello from Roswell - Above and Beyond
    Tues Sept 27th,
    Hello from Alienville, or Roswell, NM as it is more commonly known. It has been a grueling couple of days on the road. If there is a harder day than yesterday was, I'm not sure that I can do it. After my last update, I left Socorro feeling fine and headed south down Hwy 1 to 380E. I hit 380 and rode by the Trinity test site where the first nuclear, oh wait, it is nucular these days, bomb was detonated. The only good thing I could get from that is that surely some of the technology trickled into the machines used for radiation therapy. Anyway, I kept pedaling, which seems to be the thing, and a headwind slowly began to build. Eventually I was crawling along in my lowest gear, hands in the drops, going about 10 mph on the flats. I was going nuts. My breaks became more and more frequent, and at one point I realized that I had gotten off of my bike about 5 times in about 5 minutes. This was around the 3 hr mark and I still had a very long day ahead. I stopped and bought some water and asked about any hills. I was told that I would have one large climb before Carizozo, so I steeled myself mentally for that. Well, the wind picked up and I crawled up the climb. Oh yeah, it was really hot. As I was coming into Corizozo, I was as beat as I have ever been. My right calf was getting very sunburned, so I stopped and put my spf 15 Lip Medex all over it, and on my face. I stopped and drank a Rockstar, a Powerade and some water, ate some HammerGel and got back on my bike. I had about 20 more miles to Capitan, and felt much better after my break, caffeine and Ibuprofen. The wind just never let up, and there was one more big climb up to Capitan. I passed Indian Divide at 7350 feet and breathed a sigh of relief since it had to be downhill from there. After a few miles Babe pulled up. He had come looking for me since it had been almost 8 hours. He said it was 5.5 miles to the Smokey Bear Motel, so I knew I was home free. 98 miles total. We had some dinner at the Smokey Bear restaurant and called it a day.

    Got up this morning with only 70 miles to Roswell. It is crazy how that seems so short after a few days of 100 miles! It was pretty smooth sailing through Lincoln County, which is a beautiful historic district. The road was generally downhill with a bunch of rollers, so it was never flat. The temp was in the high 90's and I was on the road for about 4hrs. Piece of cake. We went to the UFO museum, and had some marginal Chinese for dinner. Tomorrow I will ride to Hobbs, and it will be the longest day at 120 miles.

    I will tell you that yesterday I truly went "Above and Beyond" all limits that I thought I had. It is pretty amazing what I can push through when I am focused on my vision. It made me think so much about the people that will benefit from this ride, and the challenges that they are confronting and pushing through. They have a pretty simple vision right now - STAY ALIVE! I am proud to be helping them by lessening some of the financial strain that they are facing. Thanks so much for reading this, and for your support. I would love to ramp it up over the next three days to Austin, and with your help I can. If you have contributed, please pass this on so that others can have the chance. If you have not had the chance yet, or are waiting for the right time, please declare now as the time to have it happen. If you can put yourself in the shoes of someone moved from home to a strange city, with cancer, facing treatment that can't be paid for, I think you can see how important it is that we all pitch in. If I am in that situation I hope that someone thinks of me. Love to all! Geoff

    Don't forget to check out Geoff's site aboveandbeyondride.com.


    Monday, October 3, 2005
    second edition

      From: Tom
    Subject: Lost one of our greatest at interbike
    Utah rider Allan Butler was struck and killed by a taxi cab that had run a red light as he crossed "The Strip" in Las Vegas at approximately 3am on Thursday night. Allan was unconscious at the scene, but still alive, and after transport to the hospital, was pronounced dead early Friday morning. He had been attending Interbike this year, and was planning on returning home upon the conclusion of the event.

    Allan is survived by his wife Jenny, his daughter Odessa, his mother Tammy, and his father Kevin. He was a member of Utah's Logan Race Club's Healthy Choice-Goble Knee Clinic Cycling team. He had raced with the LRC since the 2002 season. Allan had traveled to Europe, including racing with Bernard Moerman, during the early days of the American Bicycling Center. Allan's local and regional palmares included multiple stage race wins, and most recently, he had secured the Utah Cycling Association's Cat 1,2 title. Additionally he had numerous one day victories throughout the intermountain west and was regarded by everyone as the consummate gentleman on the bike.

    Funeral arrangements are currently underway. Additionally, a charity ride is being planned to benefit Allan's wife and daughter. Further information will follow as it becomes available.

    The letter above was pulled directly from cyclingnews.

    Sly Fox is putting together a charity auction. You can view it here.

    Also from cyclingnews: " Funeral services for Allan Butler, the U.S. cyclist who was killed by a taxi last week, will be held on Wednesday, October 5, 2005 at 11 am at the West Jordan 29th Ward, 6695 S. 2200 W, West Jordan, UT. Family and friends may visit an hour prior to services at the church and also Tuesday evening from 7-9 p.m. at Redwood Memorial Mortuary, 6500 S. Redwood Road. Interment will follow the services at Redwood Memorial Cemetery.

    In lieu of flowers the family requests that donations be sent for Odessa to Elizabeth Lockette at Morgan Stanley, 2645 E. Parleys Way, SLC, UT., 84109. "

    ** update ** You can view a .pdf file of the Allan Butler Memorial ride here.


    Monday, October 3, 2005
    zetta   I   jesse capelli   I   paris and alexis

    Now where was I?

    Oh yeah, Interbyke. Jesus, what a mess.

    Thursday,first morning. Wake up on floor. Four guys and two beds and I'm not one for "doubling up". Not that there is anything wrong with that. Somehow get it together and head to the show 'round about noon. We had to drive over a bunch of shit, way too much to try and carry, and that sucked. Fuck a car. Last two years were all about the bike.

    Parking is, of course, non-existent. Sneak our way into the Venetian employee lot. See a lot of bike racks and out of state plates and figure we ain't the only ones up in here in the down low.

    Feel like a truck hit me. Just terrible. Just like every morning in Vegas. Turns out it was a substantially smaller truck than the one that was going to hit me later that day. Funny how Vegas works; a geometric progression of pain.

    Stumble around the convention center trying to find the Voodoo booth. Hear the girls are hot. Barely remember meeting them last night. Drop $17 dollars on a pretzel and a couple of sodas. Feel like royal hell till I run into Chipps who slides me a flash full of single malt. Good man, that Chipps. The hooch does the trick right nice and soon I graduate to cans of Tecate.

    See a bunch of guys and girls I haven't seen in a while. Sell a few DC shirts and glad hand a few fans.

    I always tell people, and I always mean it, when someone tells me they dig the site and get a laugh out of it every time, it helps keep me going when it's 10:30 at night and I'm sitting there trying to pull something out of my ass. Some folks think DC is a full time job. In a way, it is. But it doesn't pay the bills up in this piece. I've got another gig for the money side of things. This is just fuck all.

    So, I'm glad you all enjoy it.

    And Gitty's got another damn nice bike up for sale on his site. Maybe it's just what you need?

    Ok, back to the action. Thursday at the show was only a warm up for the IBMA bowling benefit at the Orleans. You just knew it was going to go badly. I had lane # 69 for the second year running. And I also picked up a rather sizeable bar tab for the second year running as well. I was buying Tecate by the twelve pack until I heard one bartender tell another, "This is the last of the Tecate."

    I told him "Give me the whole case."

    And so it goes.

    The brutality was never ending. Many beers were drunk and I even bowled a strike or two. Go figure.

    I did see some antics worth mentioning, such as the long ball competition a neighboring group was running. Think of how one might throw a horseshoe and you've got it. Somewhere in the vicinity of lane 38 a young man actually hit the ceiling with a ball. That can't be much good for the lane surface, now can it?

    I also saw a few balls running perpendicular to the lane. As in 90 degrees from what they should be going. I heard a few fights almost started over that one. Lucky for me, I wasn't hit by any big angry boyfriends or errant balls.

    I said balls.

    After the curtains dropped I was standing around talking to the news Solo Single Speed 24 hour Champion, Mr. Dejay Birch for a few minutes. That is until the security told him he had to leave. That Dejay, always falling into trouble.

    I even got a recent "on the road email" from the old boy. Seems like a good time to post it. Good a time as any, I suppose.

      From: Dejay
    Subject: round #1
    Being persuaded down a dark alley by hookers, trampled by a stampede of Elvis impersonators, knocked into a coma by the buzz of neon lights, or one of the other ka-gillion evils that Las Vegas offers could be what keeps me from getting back home (Tucson). If and when I survive the next week I will finally make it back to the little piece of the south west I call home.

    It has been a long and steady travel, except for the last week and a half were I was stuck in Seattle, do to RV break downs. I did manage to make it to the NORBA finals in Mammoth, thanks to a plane flight and rental car. And what a trip it was. Everyone that was at the bar give yourselves a round of applause, because that was a show and a whole other story that I wish to remember. F.Y.I. search the web for photos.

    In the bout with the road I have found myself up against the lines many times. Only to hit the studder bumps, scare the shit out of my dog, and find the center again. This action also jars the memories of time past. Things like: 5 brake switches, broken receiver hitch, driving threw 21 states in 2 countries, getting followed by 8 hi way patrol cars(with no license plates), no pull overs, 18.5 races, the radio sucks, nearly 20,000 miles, don't forget the ice, 4 cv joints and a rear hub, being scared for my life, 200+ bike shops, friendly faces, broken fork, rain, leaking gas, crying laughter, not knowing were I am, Thai Tom, the same chamois again, u-turns, vicious dog ticket = bench warrant, 2 national + 1 world championship, white dots and yellow lines, lonely road phone calls and the people who answered, ducks, rocket chocolate, 29 inches of singlespeed, I forgot the ice, 6 complete phases of the moon, built to spill, firework induced bike derby, skid contest induced fire, kayaking, old growth rain forest, chattering teeth, loss of toe nail, coffee coffee, food poisoning, 10 dollars(Canadian) do all your laundry.deal, ok ouuuch my brain hurts, Screeching Weasel ..

    What a great way to spend a summer. Thanks to everyone that was a part of the endeavor, without you it would be no where near the experience. Thanks for all the beers, life sure looks differently threw the bottom of a pint glass!! I believe the bell for round 2 will ring all to soon. But until then..

    Head up, wheels down,

    Dejay

    That can only mean one thing: Time to have breakfast.

    Round up the boys and have little session with the Knights of the Scorn Table. Much shit was talked, about what I have no idea, and I finally enjoyed some late night bacon. Even the Little King got a piece of that action. Well deserved.

    Back in a taxi and off to bars unknown. Hit the Double Down at some point as one always does in Vegas. Or does the Double Down hit you?

    No matter. Missed the good band and caught the bad one. Guy hits two chords and clears the bar. Outside for five minutes and security shakes us down for our beers. Jesus, what's the world coming too?

    Off again, back to the strip. I feel like I'm stuck in a Streets song about Amsterdam. Self inflicted brutality. It winds down to slobbering retards stumbling down endless hallways searching out our room. Four guys, two beds and a bottle of Seagram's. Just what the Doctor ordered. Pull those curtains, Little King, Elvis had left the building.

    Next thing I know its Friday midmorning and everything sucks. Make out way back to the Convention Center. Good think I've got both dark sunglasses and a hat I can pull way down low. I feel like a fucking vampire. Two days in this hell hole and already the sun burns my skin. Remind me not to attempt crossing the threshold of a church.

    More show. See the last of my industry lifers pals. I like to think of it as the white trash underbelly of the cycling industry. People who probably couldn't make it anywhere else. And they're barely making it here. No matter, it's all about the here and now anyway.

    Switch from water to coffee to beer in short order. Zombies stumbling around. You want excitement? Try staying past closing and taking down a display one time in your life.

    Waiting on pallets, backing up bikes, sorting out the piles of scrap paper, business cards, signed posters worth keeping, socks, hats, sticker, beer cans. brochures and magazines into some semblance of order. Where did we leave those boxes? Union guys pulling down $23 dollars an hour. Rolling up the aisle carpets. Taking down displays. The strange chaotic order of the whole process.

    Eating the best burrito you ever had at the Venetian food cord on the company dime. Sitting at a 02 bar with some buxom local running an electric vibrator up and down your back. $22 dollars for 20 minutes. Better racket than the Union guys got.

    Taking off your shoes and laying on the floor of the convention center and wondering just what happened I realized two things: I like bikes and I've got to get back to Flagstaff. I signed up to pull taps for the Fat Tire Festival. Scheduled at noon, four hour drive, drunk already, Friday night in Vegas, equals I'm fucked plus or minus.

    Tough man time.

    Up at 7:30, find luggage and stuff everything inside. Find car and stuff everything inside. Find McDonalds drive through and, you guessed it, stuff everything inside.

    The flat nothingness between the Hoover Damn and Kingman was an absolute hell. Too bright, too boring and damn near too everything. Snake and I turned inside out. No music, no talking, just mute suffering.

    Stop in Ashfork for a couple cans of go juice and Gatorade. Talk about taking a feed. Pop-Tarts, M&Ms, crackers-n cheese. Stuff everything inside.

    Pretty soon me and Snake are chatting like a couple of fucking school girls. Roll into Flagstaff a half hour late. Call Big Pun from the corner of Old 66 and Milton. He's manning the station and awaiting my arrival. He tells me I'm a bitch. I tell him I love him. Snake rolls up on the festival and I'm off and running, walking actually, to the gates. I've got beer to pour. And beer to drink.

    Security shakes me down for my Gatorade. No outside beverages. Pleas of "I'm a volunteer" fall on deaf ears. I drink it down and head for the beer truck.

    Next think I know I'm standing in a parking lot for two hours slinging beers.

    Seemed kinda natural at this point, being up to my elbows in spilled ale. Drunk is what drunk does.

    At least I'm not into drugs like these guys. Compared to them, I'm a rank amateur. I suck. Pack fill like my name was Hoyt.

    Turns out there was actually 120 kegs present and accounted for. One hundred and twenty. And they all got drank.

    I'd write stories about it, but I remember only a blur of pouring, laughing, drinking, laughing and dinner at the Tai spot. What a fucking mess. I'm beginning to wonder if this annual fall classic is facing it's demise. As the IMBA Bowling undoubtedly is. The police didn't seem all that happy with the hundreds, literally hundreds of stone cold drunks heading back up Aspen Street after the kegs ran dry. And I should mention for those not in the know, back up Aspen is straight to the bars.

    Not satisfied with 120 kegs, these beer fueled hipsters and freaks of all shapes and sizes were searching for more. It was like the Night of the Living Dead down there. Unreal.

    Lets see, if one keg is 15 gallons, that's 1,800 gallons. At 8 pints per gallon, that gives us 14,400 glasses of beer consumed. In less than six hours.

    Even if you factor out 400 cups for spillage (which there was a lot let me assure you) that still leaves us with some fourteen thousand glass of beer.

    How crazy stupid is that?


    Sunday, October 2, 2005
    samantha   I   sharka   I   ran for governor

    Sing through me, oh Goddess, the anger of Las Vegas.

    Working to shake the effects of the four day bender I just got off of. Beer and more beer. In equal parts.

    Shaken, not stirred.

    Like that smug prick could tell the difference.

    Left Flagstaff on Wednesday evening with Snake. Made good time until Snake tried to prove his Subaru's worth on the down hill run to the Hoover Damn. Flicking your brights on and off because you can't figure out where the road goes while screeching down corners is not such a good idea it seems. Cop pulls out behind us and we're still going at least twice the posted speed limit. Snakes' looking at the cop in his rear view instead of the road in front of us, and he crossed the center line. Cop lights 'em up, and we get pulled over. Right on top of the damn.

    I figured we were cooked.

    Cop comes up, license, title & registration. Where you heading? You boys been drinking?

    The cop leans in on Snake, flashlight inches above his face, "Look at me…"

    I'm in the passenger seat and I'm having flashbacks to Harvey Keitel in bad lieutenant and trying not to loose my shit.

    Snake sweet talks his new boy friend and gets off with a warning to "keep it slow out there boys…"

    I couldn't believe it. A brother like me would have been cuffed and stuffed. I've got to roll with Snake more often. He's got ice water in those veins.

    Rolled into town round about 11:30. And so started the trainwreck. Stayed on tilt through Friday night. We ended up on Fremont street as the Little King thought he knew of the best breakfast in town. We clearly would have settled for the second best breakfast in town at this point. That was a wash. We tried to get up in a Denny's down on the strip, but they were closed. When pressed for a reason, I was told the Health Department mandated they "spray for bugs."

    'Nuff said, I wasn't that hungry anyway.

    Pile into a taxi for the $17 dollar cab ride to Las Vegas's best breakfast spot.

    Guess what?

    They "clean the griddle" each Wednesday between midnight and 4:00 am. No hot food, no bacon, no eggs. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to Jail.

    I had the club sandwich.

    And it was the best club sandwich ever.

    Sometime Thursday morning on the way to the show someone tells me, "That's how the fucking football needs to be fucked."

    I still have no idea what that means.

    Eagles face the Chiefs today and I can't see straight.

    Three nights and two days in Vegas is enough to kill most people. I rolled into town Saturday and went straight to serving beer at the Fat Tire Festival. Why not go one more day? The Horror of Monday will come soon enough, my friends. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

    Interbyke was as Interbyke is. I went and saw all the people I needed to in two blurry days of sleep deprivation and alcohol abuse. I need some time in a detox center. Or a full week of work. Which one you think I'm going to get?

    Met the infamous Hoyt H. from the Dirty South. My goad was to break him over my knee. Turn his stick ass into kindling.

    I hope we hurt 'em.

    The live wrong armbands are now reduced to $2 bucks. And we got some kick ass new shirts. Who doesn't need a shirt that says: "Welcome to Fabulous Live Wrong Arizona"? It just says it all.

    More later…


     
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