Rise of something

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This article I am quoting below is older than hell at this point, from August of 2010. As the internet works in real time, hitting up something that dropped eight months back is weak sauce. We at drunkcyclist stumble along a day late and a dollar short on the regular, par excellence. Looking for interesting beer bottle caps along the side of the road. Hey, don’t knock it, I’ve found some cool stuff that way. Not like “Tom Ritchey found some underwear” cool, but “twenty bucks and a porn mag” cool.

I saw a dildo once, splayed across the graveled roadside, glistening with what I prayed was the morning’s mist.

I just kept on rolling.

So, anyway, check the science. Basically, middle aged men are turning to cycling as a thing to do in middle age, at least in Britain. Recapture some of that old zest. Tack a few inches off the waistline. Get out and feel the wind in your hair. Either that or the folks that published the article are blowing smoke up your ass and trying to move ad space. That happens more often than not on these interwebs.

From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

Every weekend, across the nation’s rolling countryside, watch out for the Mamils: middle-aged men in lycra.

. . .

Back in the day, when some men with a bit of disposable income reached a certain age, they did some strange things. The grind of the office and home life convinced some that the answer to an expanding midriff lay in a pair of designer jeans and a flashy but cheap Japanese sports car. Teenage daughters ran away screaming. Sons were deprived of the role models seen in adverts for shaving products.


In other words; two wheels good, four wheels bad.

At some point the article suggests that our dear Mark Cavendish, the “sprinting legent” is the “middle-aged cyclist’s role model.”

That donut-munching, barrel-assed, pud-pulling sissy is no role model for this middle aged joke of a cyclist 1. I look to the Legend’s Of Cycling who found a way (drugs, probably) to avoid taking laps around the dessert tray for my inspiration. Men like Johan Museeuw and Mario Cipollini.

And by “inspiration” I pretty much mean I look like a sausage when stuffed in lycra. Avert your eyes dear, no one needs to see this.

I’m taking the piss out of Cav-o for two reaons. One, because I can. And two, because he just got tailed off in MSR like a fucking joke 2. Dude, you won there in 2009. Come the fuck on. Start taking this shit seriously. You are both young and extremely talented. Neither will last. You will live to regret these wasted opportunities. Being invisible until the last 200 meters will allow you bag a few Grand Tour stages each year, but the Monuments will pass you by because you simply cannot survive until the finale.

Did I mention I’ve been considering the acquisition of one of the neat little Garmin gadgets? Yeah. Color me Mamil? Not quite yet, thank you very much.

While the serious, younger riders are busy getting into the zone of elite competition, we’re comparing the latest GPS route-finding cycle computer and pretending that we know how to stretch.


Well, here’s to pretending. I’ll figure out that whole stretching thing one of these years.

1. ^ Willem Dafoe as Paul Smecker, Boondock Saints, imdb.com/title/tt0144117/quote.
2. ^ “Cavendish, the San Remo winner in 2009, was dropped on the climb of Le Mànie with nearly 100km to go and never regained contact with the front of the race.” velonews.competitor.com.

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About big jonny

The man, the legend. The guy who started it all back in the Year of Our Lord Beer, 2000, with a couple of pages worth of idiotic ranting hardcoded on some random porn site that would host anything you uploaded, a book called HTML for Dummies (which was completely appropriate), a bad attitude (which hasn’t much changed), and a Dell desktop running Win95 with 64 mgs of ram and a six gig hard drive. Those were the days. Then he went to law school. Go figure. Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

24 Replies to “Rise of something”

  1. When the middle-age demographic gets a hold of something, watch the prices of that thing creep steadily upward. Disposable income leads to $15k bikes for weekend Fred rides

  2. 10 pounds of sausage in a 5-lb casing. My only reason to hit the gym was to look good when I was naked. THAT shit is NEVER happening again, so Im hitting the starkbier and strudel pretty hard these days. Riding? Please… I dont even know if my bikes are still in my basement, it’s been so long.

  3. the best part of “middle-aged” is getting the fuck over it…go ride yer bike until the wheels fall off…then getcha some new wheels and repeat…

    oh…and don’t bother growing up…over rated.

    RideOn! Big Man…RideOn!

  4. I often stop for the shiny bits. Usually its a bust, but I once found a pair of handcuffs in the shoulder of a busy highway interchange. One of the cuffs had been sawn off.

  5. As a cerified Mamil (44) I hit the brakes everytime I see jettison rolling papers. If they chucked the papers the stash could be close by. I found a live fish once.. As if someone was transporting for an aquarium. I acclimated it to a golf couse pond and set it free.

  6. …headed out to friend’s house to get high years ago, when i was without the goods…

    …carried the bike down all 156 steps, saw a marlboro box at the bottom of the stairs n’ thought ‘who the fuck is leaving their garbage down here ???’…kicked it, thought ‘somethings in there’ & looked inside to find half of a fat, fat thai stick…

    …climbed 156 steps, called her up & said ‘you come see me…it’ll be worth it’

    …nowadays…‘sausage stuffed in lycra’ ???…i’ll ask you not to get so personal, sir, as i try my best…

  7. Lycra? I mostly wear what I happen to have on, riding from point “A” to point “B”. Sixty years young if it matters.

  8. I’m heading over to a friends right now, but there aren’t any 156 steps. Lycra is stupid. It’s the tight pants hipsters strive for. Straight up.

  9. …hey – 156 steps…

    …if i had a problem, that would be 13 12 step programs…

    …just wait, gnomer…20 years down the road & you n’ gianni will both be hearing – “daddy, this is my fiance” & some skinny assed sleazeball wearing lycra ‘jeans’, an oversized black motorcycle jacket & monster boots will come skulking through your front door with a leering grin & go “…yo, pops…what up ???”

    …then you’ll be wishin’ for a good ol’ fashioned ‘tight pants hipster’

    …just sayin’…

  10. Followed the wrong wheel on the Kemmelberg… Sky better get some good hand rails bolted to their cars by July.

  11. Best thing about middle age…you dont have to pretend to be cool anymore..

    I put all my road finds in a shoe box.. glad mine dont include dildo’s and penis pumps..eventhough that would be some funny shit.

  12. Hey BGW. That was my Marlboro box and I want it back no questions asked. The only good thing about the Police Action in that darling little country was the dope. Thai stick. Good lord, you have set me to weeping. But here we are fucking up Afghanistan and yet there ain’t been no good tan hash since the last time I laughed. Anybody remember laughter? I hope I ain’t crossed no lines here. Hey wait…anybody remember lines?

    HAhAhAhA (denotes manic laughter) fuck it man…every old fart on the planet thinks it was better back in their day. A Trailer Park T Shirt to the first fucker who knows what a disco biscuit was.

    PS I know I should get the 156 steps reference but the only time I made Frisco I was highly incapacitated but: I’ll suss it out, dawg, I’ll suss it out.

  13. …trailer park cyclist…”lude for your mood, bro’, penny for your thought…

    …i could smoke ‘anything’ herbalistic & ride the bike, so that was my drug of choice, ‘back in the day’…stonedcyclist, like fer sure, dude…

    …did ‘coke’ with friends one night for hours & the next day, spaced, hung over & whatever else, whilst on the bike i did a trackstand at a red light & i was 45* sideways before i realized i was falling over, still clipped in…

    …that ended any desire i had for that kinda shit…riding was much more important…

  14. …ohhh…btw, the ‘156 steps’ was for real…highest house in fairfax, calif (well, ya, that too) on ridge road…still there…

    …then you hadda climb the stairs to a rough hewn but awesome house built before the codes with huge plexiglass windows & massive views of mt tam, the east bay & off to the north…

  15. OK I owe you a t-shirt and you will get it as soon as I get them made. Waiting for the art department. Probably will have to draw them myself, which is frightening. But I was looking at some of those old Bukowski works and I can do that, at least. But then again, I ain’t no Hank. Who is?

    “My ambition is handicapped by laziness”

  16. @11-bgw, the first individual that crosses my threshold and calls me “pops” will be filleted, frapped and flambed; don’t really care whose kid he is, or whose kid is keen on him for that matter. It’s my fucking house, elebenty-leben steps and all. Have a nice day.

  17. …trailer park cyclist…do ’em in black, amigo…all the better to hide the stains & personally, i’m kinda sloppy at times…

    …joe…‘kids’ these days, ya ???…some of ’em think they invented themselves & act like little bitches about it & some of ’em are cool enough to realize we’re all just part of an evolutionary process…

  18. …tpc…holy shit !!!…but we all knew (‘cept for the kids) that it’s true…

  19. bgw, I’m lucky. Joe’s kid fits in the latter category, and so do her friends. Maybe that’s why I’ll not tolerate disrespect from someone else’s young.

  20. …it doesn’t really surprise me…a lotta the kids with parents from we, “the stoner generation” are as substantial as you can imagine…

    …mom n’ dad, after a their own personal travails, ended up pretty realistic as to what the world is about & imparted a decent philosophy to their youngsters, allowing them to think for themselves & make some solid decisions…

    …there are also, unfortunately, a lotta little ‘parrots’ out there who are ‘clue nada’ & were given the silver spoon treatment…those ones worry me…

  21. In all honesty, I often wonder if my daughter turned out so well because of my efforts, or in spite of them. But I suppose that every dad worth his salt has considered that conundrum.

    (Lifts virtual glass to all and sundry) To our children.