see you people next wednesday, i'm rollin out for Cyclocross World Champeenshits. ifin you just can't live without me, i'd probably put my efforts into the links over to yer right. i anticipate this will either be awesome, or awesome witha side of what the fuck...
...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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
