Documented Citizen

...and after using monday to catch up on sleep and get chores done, i spent most of the morning and mid day tuesday doinig chores and enjoying the customer service at the Department ub Moter Vee Hikles and other assorted gubment offices.

of course there were things that happened, duh.  for one, we had a small hot plate grease fire.  but it wasn't all that big of a deal, and after we watched it burn all the way out, we made grilled cheese sandwiches and drank Coors tan cans.  what would you do?

once i finished up with the days things to do, which took a lot longer due to the fact i didn't know that you could get your passport AND your driver's license in the same place.  so after pedaling to the DMV, i hauled it over to the passport office, where i found a driver's license renewal thingy.  awesome.  and they won't take a credit/debit card for your passport.  nope.  gatta be a check.  so i jumped back on the bike and headed to the other side of town to my bank to get a cashiers' cheque, just to ride all the way back to the passport office and pay them.  again, wow.

once all that shit was tackled and i got my self back into the fold, i met up with shep who was gunna help me build out the amenities for my truck, but alas, we figured a better way which had to wait, so i just played with his cat and hung out for a while enjoying chili and cheese toast before my stop of the day.

no sooner did i get home from the big orange place that sells lumber and stuff but nothing professional even though they pretend to sell that kind of stuff...  i was on the bike and headed out to meet up with a couple friends for beers and cheers and jeers and good times.  and other than the continued kicking by feet adorned with hard ass cycling shoes, i had a wonderful time watching people get free booze and laughing at their attempts to piece together complete sentences.

and that's monday and tuesday in the life of me.

i'll be rollin outta here this weekend to attend the Cyclocross World Championshits.  ifin yer interested, look to my instagram thingy for pics from the road and me likely getting one or two shots off as they throw me out of the venue.

until friday, if life is giving you lemons, do cocaine and pray.  what do you have to lose?

too many rocket scientists

once Shep and i got hooked up with Gracie, after rolling around Huntsville for an hour or so, we found this, pointing at the dude's garage loft apartment we were coming to get to drag along on our weekend adventure.  was it a sign?  an omen?  dunno, but it pointed in the direction we were headed, which in hindsight, makes me wonder if we should have gone the other way...

one of a few places that did satisfy was a small taco joint where i scored a green chili burrito and two beers for $5.37.  seemed to be nothing short of miraculous with hippy kids running something that is easy, quick, and you can drink outside - which is always a plus when riding bicycles.  we dropped a couple beers there, and then headed into downtown via the long way incorporating some hills and dales.

the wash rinse repeat was rockin' autopilot with the arrival and quick run in a bar, stay long enough to drink a beer, then jump back on the bikes to plow on to the next location.  you know, fun.  we tried to bring out one of the local drink.ride. kinda guys i've heard about.  with text messaging pictures of us having a great time mixed with encouraging statements, we just couldn't give this dude the heart he needed to get on his horse and come out to play.  then again, once he asked who it was, and i answered, all communication stopped.  that could mean something too.

but like i said...  these guys gatta get some beauty sleep to keep the rockets from killing everybody.

once ditched down to just me and shep, we headed to where we would be laying our heads for the evening.

the next morning found us asleep in the basement of a dude who started and owns a chess set company.  and this dude does not fuck around.  hand carved prototypes lead the way to hand waxed and polished pieces made of precious woods with the finesse of a seasoned craftsman.  not only do i have a thing for chess, i really like well made stuff.  and this was not only well made, it was about the best that it gets.  needless to say, i was having a blast.  and then...

he goes into this description about how he had imported ivory, which was well documented to be pre-embargo and dated around the 1850.  customs got a hold of it and said not only was it against the law (it wasn't) but they destroyed it as well.  1850's ivory.  destroyed.

so you know what this mother fucker does?

he says, well.  elephants are endangered.  i'm a cool dude, and don't want to rattle cages or cause problems.  i'll make sure no one can get mad.

...and he starts using wooly mammoth ivory.  he has Siberians digging up frozen wooly mammoths from 40,000 years ago, so he can make $20,000.00 chess sets from the tusks.

fuck you.

Wooly Mammoth.

 yeah. hey John Wayne, make a little room at the head of the table.

so with that, and a belly full of breakfast, we hit the road and rode some dirt and had some hang over helper to clear the fuzzy, continuing our adventure.  there is something fun about riding around a town where you come to a dead end and jump on the local mountain bike trail just to pop out on the other side and ride your bicycle to Space Camp!

they wouldn't let me in.

but they let us in the gift shop where i met a real life person that works in a gift shop at a space place selling trinkets and novelties about space and stuff and has to wear this silly jump suit and have idiots like me barrel in wanting to take a picture with them who keep calling them astronauts.

but they aren't.

they're kids trying to make a few bucks and they dig space, which is more fun that making burritos or working at the pharmacy handing out saline enemas.

so, all in all it was a very good time full of fun and beers and stupid and not much sleep and a shit ton of riding all over town.  will i go back?  yeah, gatta ride more of the dirt and eat some more of them cheap ass burritos, but this time we're gunna make sure the locals join in.

pay it forward

          last night, there was a local IMBA membership meeting.
          on the fakebook event page, i wrote this:

 

since we started SORBA Mid TN years ago, there are more shops open, there are more mountain bikers, and there are more trails. but the number of people involved has not grown equally.

100% of the trails you enjoy in middle tennessee have been built and maintained by volunteers, by hand, using shovels and rakes and mcleods, and any other hand tool that helped. it has taken thousands of hours, sweat, blood, dedication, and commitment to make it happen. and all differences aside, i am honored to have worked with everyone involved in building and maintaining our local and regional trails.

if you are going to this event tonight, bring someone with you. if you have never attended a workday, go do it. giving donations is great, but nothing makes a larger positive impact than showing up and busting your ass building or maintaining or repairing the trails you love. nothing shows the land managers how important trails are more than huge turnouts on workdays.

no matter how much money you have donated, no matter how many times you have talked about mountain biking, no matter what you have "done", if you have ridden trails anywhere in the world and have not attended one single work day to give back, you really suck.

if you can find time to ride, you can find time to dig. so do it.

 

           followed by this:

 

my statement is directed toward bicycle shop owners and employees too. they are the ones who should be setting the example. 

 

so yeah, twice.  but you know what?  it's true.  giving back seems to be the hardest thing for people to do.  whether it's mountin bike trails, or any type of volunteerism, people are just fucking lazy and think if they throw money at it, all will be good.

you know what people don't understand?  burnout.  when the same people work their asses off for years on end only getting thank you's and pats on the back, but never a "what can i do to help", it fries you like a fucking chicken wing.  one can only take that for so long before they feel like they are doing everything, get fed up with the people who tell them what they should be doing or how to do it, but never... ever... once showing up to help.

i'll say it again, if you ride trails and have never shown up to spend a saturday or sunday morning busting your ass to help keep those trails, they should be taken away from you.  there's an old BMX adage, "if you wanna ride, you gatta dig."

this creates ownership, and would deter people from doing stupid shit, like building jumps and ramps without permission, riding wet trails, and basically doing those things that the trails themselves don't much enjoy.

it also helps create community.  those local CAT4 Pro racer dudes that never say hi, or blast past you recklessly, once they spend a few hours working with you, side by side, creating beautiful rolling grade dips or berm turns, or just simply cutting out a fallen tree that's too big to ride, the next time you run into each other on the trail, that bond is there.

this is the heart of cycling.  this is why the grand tours are so great.  this is why you hear stories of actual pros stopping mid race to make sure a beginner that ate shit is ok.  this is a mountain bike community.

so happy friday you lemmings, get out and enjoy the weekend.  but make sure you give back, so you can continue to enjoy your weekends for years to come.

the solution to polution is dilution

this last weekend found my sorry ass in the Redneck Riviera utilizing my Moonlander for one of the things it was actually designed for.

i had never been to Floribama before, other than driving through many moons ago on my way from Orlando to Tuscaloosa...  (i don't want to talk about it), and the polarization of Destin vs. Panama City was earth shattering.  at one point, it looked like the set of the Stepford Wives.  but once you cross from where the Richie Rich roamed, into something a little more like my actual reality, i could not begin to create prose that describes it any better than Bubba does.

luckily it was the off season and the beaches and bars were thinly peppered with locals, and there was not a Bubba to be seen.  between Goatfeathers and the Salty Goat, both sides of the coin were tasted, and both were awesome.  seein' as how this was kinda my first real relaxing vacation in a very, very long time, it just seemed right to enjoy both diamonds and dirt.  and you know what, i like dirt way more than diamonds.

and speaking of diamonds, the visit to the Salty Goat in Panama was my kind of dirty.  thirty five Harleys lined the perimeter of the open air bar, and the HOGs greeted five inch knobbies like long lost brothers.

 

 (photo cred: Glitter Gravel)

i knew it was the right place when one of the boys walked over to his sled, pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his bag, and started passing it around the bar.  these are my people.  in fact, i do believe these ladies speak my language (and they are the bar tenders).

once the tab was paid, the final stop before bedtime was Bud red on the beach under the moonlight.

this was definitely the beginning of how the rest of my year is gunna be if i have anything to do with it.

and there was only thing that made me frown laughing...

after seven hours of driving, a couple of Pottsville's finest brewed in Florida, and bouncing around on 6psi for a couple hours, it was time to release the hounds.  in an effort to help BP continue to reek havoc on Floribama's shores, i had no other choice but to join in on the fun.

and much like BP got their reward, karma leveled the playing field with me as well.

but i'll tell you what, it was an absolute blast.  i gots tons of pics and i blew my wad on instagram and fakebook, so you'll have to settle for this shot, which i didn't even take, and honestly just doesn't do the beauty of it justice.  but if running out of toilet paper is as bad as it gets, i will happily use my socks to wipe my ass for the rest of my life, as long as the sunsets outweigh the shit hand.

(photo cred: Glitter Gravel)

of course...

go out of town for a weekend, come back to no internet.

and seein' as that's what makes all this work, we'll all have to wait until tomorrow to know what life has dropped into my less than endowed lap.

it's monday!

christine ain't got nuthin on me

after five years without a car of my own, i bought a truck.

while i was sitting there waiting on them to do whatever it is they need to do in order to get me outta there, i flipped through the only magazine around, Cosmopolitan.

fuck.me.

if there is girl out there that thinks Maxim is dirty, how's about this shit?

first and foremost, the inside of the front cover was a couple chicks that need to eat a sandwich or seven and stop listening to the cure.  damn.  this is fashion?  if i was wondering around in a drunken stupper and stumbled into this girl, i would vomit and run like hell.  she's a tumble down metal stairs away from Cenobite.

so after i stopped screaming, and got security to understand i was just freaked out a little, i started flipping through this here magazine just to pass the time and see if there was a picture of an actual woman, as apposed to a 12 year old boy with a vagina.

and that's when i fumbled onto this...

Nips Ahoy!

mind you, this is a very large and reputable dealership.  in fact, i purchased my last car from them in 1998 and had a very pleasant time doing so.  this time was the same, so i thought it would be kind to remove the publication and place it somewhere kids or super religious people couldn't turn it into a nightmare for the fine people that are just trying to make a living.  so i gave it to the first female employee that walked by, showing her why.  she thought it was as hilarious as i did, and told me she was taking it home.  i have to say, i am quite glad to know i have a small hand in her evening's eclectic mix of downward facing doggie and pulling carpet fibers out of her nose.

and with that image trapped in yer brain, have a happy weekend.  and keep yer eyes peeled for my bloodshot eyes deciding the fate of everyone around me.  i got a truck, a full tank of gas, and really good insurance.

this is called a post script.  you don't have to read it.  in fact, it's kinda serious and stuff and there is almost no place for that here, but... seein' as how there is this giant doped up white lying rat of an elephant in the room, i might as well say something.

Lance Armstrong.

it is unfortunate that a vast majority of the people who are tuning in, listening, making opinions, and deciding how they feel about this whole situation have no interest in riding bicycles.  the best thing he could have done, both for himself and cycling, is to just go away and work to keep this out of the spotlight.  and to all the people who spent last night, and are spending tonight, watching Oprah's interview, you are exacerbating the negative, fueling his ego, and seeing to it that even the interview is a profitable venture.

the best thing you can do is ride your bike.  so go do that.

sometimes yer cousin is cute enough...

we've had some amazing weather here in Nashvegas.  just the other day i was sitting in a parking lot in shorts and a tshirt with shep eating pie.  as far as i know, there was only one report of a bear in the area, but i never saw it.

now, this is how it works in this here part of north amurika.  in the winter, we'll have a couple warm days, then some cold ones, then unseasonably warm days which are actually seasonal but we don't remember it happening every year so it's called unseasonable, followed by ice.

yes, ice.  we get ice.  snow once in a great while, and typically no more than an inch or two to scratch the itch of missing the powdering happy.  and being from north of the Mason Dixon line gives one not only a completely different outlook on frozen precipitation, it also makes for a contrasting driving ability than the locals have honed.

so today... ice ice baby.

now, when there is ice on the horizon, these people go apeshit.  hell, after the flood a couple years ago, if we get heavy rain people start to worry.  so when team coverage of the four horsemen marching in armed with snow blowers and Icee machines floods the airwaves, it makes this:

look like this:

(cred for this photo belongs to somebody named Cody Biffle)

...and that's where i start to cock my head and get that confused puppy look.  sure, light snow is self explanitory, and i totally get the run for booze.  a run for booze has very little to do with the impending doom of 40hours of cold and wet, but if i'ma gunna be stuck in my home for enough days that i'm going to need to buy milk, milk ain't gunna solve a fucking thing and 100% of that money should be spent on booze, period.  in fact, should you not just have staples stocked up just in case it actually really is an emergency?

seriously, what if you find yourself trapped for a week with some fugly chick?  or you just happen to be a lady and the next seven days of your life are going to be spent in a 1300 square foot bungalow with some - still wearing a sweater vest even though he took his shirt off knuckle dragging neanderthal - that even after a shower still retains that musky aroma.  shit, what if it's your cute ass third cousin three times removed?

boredom will eventually set in, and there's a reason more babies are born nine months after a big winter storm than any other time of the year.  so no matter what the scenerio, you'll need some liquid courage loooong before you are ever going to need one single drop of moo juice.  unless you only drink white russains, then you'll puke before you get drunk enough to pinky swear you will never talk about this again.

cuz sometimes extreme circumstances calls for extreme measures, and i would hate to think a little ice cost you a limb.

cobblers kids get new shoes

did some work on my bikes the other night.  the 2speed needed front bearings, bad.  felt like gravel.  so bad it was embarrassing.  it was time.  and this is what it looked like.

 

if you made it this far, thank you.

the bearings on one side were so trashed, the removal tool failed to remove the entire cartridge leaving the outer race still in the hub shell.  the 12mm open end wrench did not damage the hub shell by prying around the clock.

dead mammals and elusive machines

i think this one is going to an aunt?  maybe?  can't remember, but shep and i ran into chris after finishing a couple slices and beers for his birthday.  chris was doing the same thing, just about a half hour behind.  he didn't know it was shep's burfday.  then he was heading to the post office to mail a pocket full of these puppies to people he loves enough to bestow these upon them.  we like chris.

later on, i took a picture of a smashed squirrel for you to enjoy.

someone will thinks it's art.

once the sun turned round the corner to heat up things on the other side, i teamed up with Glitter Gravel to check out the new B-cycle bike share bicycles.  slide yer card for $5.00 and get 24 hours of three speed, roller cam flavor, that works.  we rolled around downtown, hoping a few curbs, attempting a couple wall rides and grinds, and launching staircases with reckless abandon.  it wasn't until we pulled off the tandem power slide off the loading dock that we decided the bikes had had enough, and figured the bikes had as well.  not really.  but we did pedal around the downtown area, up and over the pedestrian bridge (took the elevator back up from the other side), and returned them to their rightful place at another station and walked back to where we started.

i have to say, the only thing about them that i could nit pick at all is the weight, but in order to be certain the bikes can handle whomever decides its a nice day for a bicycle ride, whether it be a couple hooligans looking for ramps, or elderly looking for an easier way to get around, they have to be way over built to withstand most anything.

we both agreed, as personally we would ride a the highest gear most of the time, the gearing is in fact low enough to accommodate most anyone with the ability to handle anything they're abilities will allow.  never mind the fact that with so many stations around the downtown area, and at the tops and bottoms of hills, you could get to the bottom of a hill or top, return it at the station there, and walk or bus to grab another bike down the road.  well thought out, planned and executed.

yesterday afternoon, on my way back from the motorcycle shop, i ran into some dude who lives in nashy and just jumped on one to check it out.  he was having an absolute blast!  good job nashville, bravo.  so get your lazy ass out there and drop $5.00 and go for a ride!

then there was Music City Cycling's impromptu Red Bench Ride celebrating Ben's burfday.  this is a regulalry scheduled program that happenes almost weekly during the warmer months.  they all meet at this single and particular red bench on the corner of two mainer type roads, then chase each other to the first beer stop, then the next, and this carries on until the last man standing decides its time to just go home, leaving a wake of tight pants and colorways in a wretched heap behind.

this was spacial.  besides the ass under glass, getting yelled out for swearing and smoking, then a regular all but trying to fight one of them fixie hipster kids about pissing the bathroom, it was a great night of riding bikes, drinking beer, and all around bicycle funs and stuffs.

tired of doing the same old team kit rides, chasing your powertap and strava KOM and just want to drink.ride.?  join these kids on sunday the 27th, unless you're Teen Wolf, for january's Full Moon Ride.

     "A monthly bike ride.
       Relaxed ride to a spot to enjoy the moon.
       Dress warm.
       Bring lights.
       Feel free to bring your flask."

probably not something you would want to miss.

then there's these robots.  they're around.  i want to figure it out...

keep it in the family

well, it turns out that my family tree has a few things that maybe might explain a few things.

the Hensley settlement, found in Harlen County Kentucky.  in 1903, the Hensley family settled atop Brush Mountain, forsaking settled areas for an entirely self-sufficient way of life. this truly rural Appalachian settlement continued, without electricity, indoor plumbing, roads or any modern conveniences until the last inhabitant left in 1951.  that's where my dad's dad grew up.and it turns out they weren't much for the tax man, the law, or anyone telling them what to do, where to go, or how to be.

kinda feel like that's just about right...

which leads us to this gentlemen.

meet George Went Hensley.  seems not only do i share the sirname of this individual, but he the same bloodline.  George was very religous, to the piont he came to believe that the New Testament commanded all Christians to handle venomous snakes.  yup, that's right.  this great uncle of mine brought to the forfront the belief that swingin' a viper above your head gets you closer to god, and by criekie, he died from a snake bite.  imagine that?  the fun part was asking my dad if this was true.  yeah, the shaking of his head, along with the smirk gave me all i needed to know.

so i've been trying to figure out how someone could convince me that between the sermon, the prayer, the tithe, and baptism, the one thing missing was a fistfull of cold blooded, slithering, fang adorned and armed with spit that will turn your blood into red crisco, and they are likely not only pissed off from bein' shaken like a tamborine, but full of piss and venom and every intent of getting that all over me and all in me in the largest amount of volume possible.

i just don't get it.  like, how awful does that have to be.  holy shit!  damn!  

well, now i am totally feaked out.  and with that, i'm gunna sit back, have myself a drink, and listen to a little something that can help take my mind off of it...

damnit!

straight up marketing

Music City Cycling's current leader bean, Dave Theanal, is the owner/operator/proprieter and dish washer of RUSH Bicycle Messengers, Nashvegas'ez ONE and ONLY 100% all bicycle messenger service.  RUSH just had their first anniversary, and i could not be happier.  and for the last year, they either walk it, or ride it, from where they snatch yer letter, to where they drop yer magazines.  yes, that is correct.  RUSH handles the distribution of Native Magazine... by bicycle.

Surly trailers and pumpin quads bring this publication to all over the city for you to enjoy, for free, every single time.  and both companies are growing like mold on a good piece of cheese hiding behind the spicy jelly, way on in the back of the fridge.

...and that's what i did friday afternoon.  i figured it'd be cool to help out once i got all my chores done and toys put away.  i jumped aboard the best tool for the job and headed over the river and through the hood depositing some here and some there and others everywheres.  like a bumble bee in a sea of dandelions, two loads haulin' 'em radial lace style throughout this fifth of town.  shortly after the start of the start of the second lap, you realize what yer in for.  you'll eat a sandwich or fourteen before you finish up.

the businesses that stock are all quite happy to see you show up, and a few times people would come over while i was unpacking them for display to grab one.  one time, i felt like i was doling out 99% pure crank around the corner from the clinic.  they sure were excited.  and i'm straight up not making fun, for once.  in fact, i think it is fuckin' awesome people were that excited.   ...but i wonder what it's like at their house when the spouse/room mate/boyfriend/girlfriend/goatfriend shows up with unexpected cake?  or even cake they knew was coming, but not exactly which day.  i bet it's fun.

was it fun?  well hell's yeah it was.  and like mowing the lawn, cutting down tress, or diggin' ditches, it was one of those things that makes beer just taste better.  the looks from people driving by, to the dude in the dump truck haulin' a caterpillar letting me know my load had shifted (people with trailers look out for people with trailers, like truckers), the looks and smiles from people thinking i was either completely stupid, homeless, or insane kept me going all damn day.

the evening closed in with a quick shit-shower-shave-shampoo, and a six pack of Yuengling Porter... which miraculously became a five pack shortly after i arrived home.

a moment of silence please.

thank you.

and with that, please, enjoy some cake.

its a long way, to the top if you want to rock and roll

yesterday morning was DK's "Buds and Buds Birthday Ride", taking place on his birthday, of all days.  This is the second annual, and i have been lucky to be a part of last years as well.  and last year, what shep brought to the party besides fun, was some blood from his nose and a few minutes of wondering what was going on.  good times indeed.  definately to be repeated.

this year had a little more meaning.  DK's 18 year old dog, buddy, loved one, partner in life, and savior, had to be put down wednesday after a long fight with cancer, and that pup fuckin' fought.  the ride was to honor Red Boy as well.  i like very few dogs, the ones i do either understand enough english that when you tell them no, they get it, or the ones that act like cats.  i really like cats.  that's why i'm on instagram like the rest of these feline fanatics.  dog's very rarely have a "fuck you look".  that's how cats wake up.  i respect that.  Red minded when it was important, but also did what he wanted.  perfect mix.

the laughter and air guitar to the original black bars kept the mood smooth, never mind the mimosas and chilled, creamy bourbon's ability to calm most any situation.  coffee and colorful bites brought smiles around the table as we prepared for the morning roll out under sunny skies and just above freezing temps.  with a familiar route, and extra time, we took the opportunity to do a little exploring, finding new things in old places, and destinations for future endeavors.

i. love. riding. with. DK.  many moons ago, when we were on the same schedule, we'd go mountain biking all the time.  chasing after each other with wreckless abandon, tearing through the woods like mad men.  pushing our speed, luck, and abilities until reaching the beginnings of crashing.

so far beyond reasonable measure, there would be this moment that everything just slowed down, as if impending pause was overcoming us.  a breath from complete and total loss of control, the motions of plummeting into whatever lay before us with the veracity of a trebuchet.  blood pressure and heart rate maxed, vision pulled taunt and piercing, an unconcious flex of a muscle would pull you from the cusp of disconnection.

exhale brought awaking from a dream.  colors would change to a more timid hue, breath would calm, and all tension would lift and float away.  a glance at each other, and without a word, it would end right there.  sometimes one lap, sometimes three, but we always pushed to that edge.  the goal was to reach this state, and remain as long as possible.  it was art.

we did not do that this day.  nope.  we just chatted and pedaled and hung out and played on a waterfall.  a couple charges, but they amounted to nothing more than waiting for the others to catch up.  there was to be none of that.  we were riding together.

once we arrived back from our loop, lunch was waiting on us, along with deserts, other amenities, and more booze.  it was a great way for friends to honor both DK and Red, and it meant more than words.

here is a pictorial of a few of the morning's enjoyments.

 

 

 

celebrate life.

starting the year off left

my new years eve started as i headed over to sheps to swap some booze and babysitting for a turn at the laundry facilities.  fair trade, trust me.  i ain't all that good at laundry, and it's much more fun to play with his kids instead of the children at the laundry mat.  you get the darn-dest glares when you do that.  not sure why that isn't acceptable, but whatever.  oddly enough, i get the same look at Chuck E Cheese.

i digress...  deep within the confines of a  4 and 8 year old that have been out of school for more than a week and always enjoy an audience, overfilling the dryer, having a few too many, and forgetting something else i still can't remember, i was introduced to something my red draped eyes had never witnessed:

that would be blackberry jam and honey glazed ham on wheat with the crust cut-off.  no, i did not try it.  the smaller of the two chill-rens seemed to enjoy the shit out of it.  as you can see, no shit in sight.  i wanted to share this, cuz i thought it was kinda gross.  and that was the highlight of that.

shortly after, i made my way outta his house, and on the way back to my huas.

rivaling kris kringle, i jumped on my coaster deuce and headed out for the new years eve late afternoon ride home.  luckily, it was around 4:00pm, and most everyone out was frantically attempting to procure food booze hookers drugs fireworks puppies diapers handsanitizer condoms and crack.  knowing better than to even think about getting involved with those lemmings on any main roads, i took the twisty turny safety route through the hood.  the temps had dropped and with a million pounds of hot laundry on my back, i was rather chipper to say the least.  ...and that's when it happened. 

some one lost their tree, right in the middle of... well, you know that exact spot.  dead center of the apex of a blind turn going downhill.  the location of the instant you stand up and charge into the transition, for it turns skyward just a few pedal strokes around the bend and losing momentum makes for a shitty ascent.  and with my bag exploding with the girth and weight of freshly cleaned and dried clothes, i was really haulin' ass.  oh what fun.  (photo is a recreation cuz ifin i had my camera in my hand, there would be a lot more red stuff and and torn stuff and hospital looking stuff in this here post)

the moral of this story:  tie your shit down you idiots.  it's a fucking tree.  not a mattress.

so i drug it out of the road and went on my merry way to complete the next task for the evening...

being smarter than the average bear when it comes to procuring libations, and knowing that there is an art to getting in and out quicker than the first time you got a chance with your girlfriend in her parents house, i took a brisk stroll down the road and collected the things that help me get through the day without choking the shit out of somebody that really needs it.  and seein' as how i get so much joy from those who publish job losing, marriage ending, incarcerating, gunna wake up with warts on yer junk pics, i know better than to share mine.  so that's all you get.

the first day of the new year i awoke to a short drive to a pleasant breakfast, followed by a long drive to the start of a gravel ride.  old buddy Bryan has been putting them together for quite some time, and his success is really making waves.  and as with most group rides composed of people that like to have fun more than they like to be assholes, it was just a great time.

the scenery was beautiful, the gravel slick and wet, and the air cold and drizzly.  it had rained on and on and on and off and on for the last few days making the typical quick splashes much more enjoyable in the summer.  the mud puddles were thick and zesty, the climbs slimy to the point walking happened, and the descents fast and thrilling.  whether weather worried weary souls, our mettle was metal and we all should get medals for meddling in the muddy messy menage. yeah, say that three times...

only once did we stop in our tracks with mother natures dirty shower water higher than bottom brackets.  and not only did i not want wet shoes, i'm riding record and am unemployed.  so two of us males decided it would make more sense to remove our dry and warm foot gear, save some money on bearings, and just saunter across.

and with all of the women plowing through like there was a clearance sale on the other side, our masculinity was challenged.  you ladies rock!  and don't you forget it.

all in all i started the next year of my life riding high and sinking low with people who like to do the same things, i guess.  well... they like riding bicycles and drinking beer, and that's good enough for me.

ifin you would like to join in with this here type of tom, dick and hairy foolery, just head on over to fakebook and give a shout to Bryan.   the more the merrier they say, whoever the hell they is.