Long live Zed!

I want to apologize to my loyal readers. You deserve better.

Wait, now that I think about it, It's Sean that owes the apology.

Toys I would steal from my own children #1.

I would claim this in a heartbeat!
A handmade wool felt Jabba! Jeetswesus!
More pics here!

I was there GODDAMMIT! Pescadero redux

ok. so not only do I get my ass kicked at Pescadero, I don't even get partial credit for such a beating. I was #906 ferchrissake. I'm no where to be found. I really would like to quanitfy my patheticnessless, thank you very much. It took me hours to find this crappy photo.
See. That's me...right....there (points finger). At least I know I wasn't worst place.

Race Report #2. Pescadero RR.

I'm stickin' with cross.
Why suffer and suck for three hours when you can suffer and suck for just 45 minutes.

My new T-shirt slogan for this fall!

" Cyclocross. All the pain and suffering of a full sized road race in a smaller, more convenient package!"

Once a crit-monkey, always a crit-monkey I guess. Race report #1?

Growing up in 70's and 80's in Detroit, if you wanted to race bicycles you had two choices; crits or the Dorais Velodeome. The latter is a post unto it's own, but suffice it to say, prior to racing on it one often had to pull weeds growing up through the cracks. Road races were almost unheard of and mountain biking didn't take really take hold until the late 80's. Crit's were it. It's actually the only racing I really did until I became a "dirtie" ( my roommate/roadie/trackie nickname for me). I didn't loathe them then as I do now simply because I didn't know any better. I was a crit monkey simply from ignorance. I still cant' read a road race for shit. A crit on the other hand, I seem to have cold. One would not know this from looking at my reg. stats...

05/26/2008 - SugarCRM Memorial Day Criterium - Criterium - Cat 4/5 - Master - 45-99
DNS	Thomas Hoeffel	16403	00:00.00		Kaiser Permanente/Team Oakland
05/27/2006 - Livermore Criterium/Northern Calif/Nevada Jr Crite - Criterium - - 35-99
21	Thomas Hoeffel	16403		902	Cylcesports/Trumer Pils
02/11/2006 - Apple Pie Criterum - Criterium - Master - Master 1 - 35-99
3	Thomas Hoeffel	16403		378	Cycle Sports
09/28/2002 - Presidio Classic - Criterium - Master - 30-99
DNF	Thomas Hoeffel	16403

Yep. that's 4 crits (5 including saturday) in 7 years! But back in my late teens/early 20's, I use to do that in a month. Even funnier is that one is a DNS (sick) and the other was a DNF due to a timely (4 to go) and merciful flat on that god awful Presidio course. In short, once upon a time, I did a LOT of crits and tactics, or lack there of, really haven't changed all that much.

So why do I keep registering for these things? Stupidity? Boredom? Sun spots? I gave myself over to the cross gods long ago. But the cross season is short ergo the "off season" is long. It's hard to keep motivated. At least that's the thesis I'm sticking with for how I came to find myself at this poorly attended crit on Saturday.

Ok. OK. Enough already..Here's the race report.

It's windy as hell. Crazy windy. There are only 15 of us on the line. I know none of them. The former is a miracle in and of itself given that bay area masters fields fill up within a week of posting, no matter how lame the event. The fact I dont' know anyone is not that suprising. Heck, I dont' even recognize my own teammate. Apparently, the Venn diagram of crit and cross sets has a much smaller intersection than even I imagined. At first I thought the small field was a good thing. The headwind changed my mind. To start things off, I opted for some drama. As I was ramping up to do some higher intensity pieces just before the start, my cleat adapter pulled off. There was my cleat firmly attached to the sidi adapter plate which was in turn, firmly connected to the pedal, not my shoe! Miraculously, one screw remained in the adapter plate, held in by plastic mashed from walking. The others were orphaned on the road. Mild panic. I had seen my friend Cheetah earlier, rolling around the course watching his protoges race. Maybe I could swap pedals/shoes? At that very moment, I watched him drive away in the distance. Shit! End mild panic. Begin genuine panic. I rush back to the truck, grab my toolbag and rummage....nothin'. Double Shit. I tighten down the one remaining screw. Yeah, that'll hold....not. Suddenly, I actually come up with a sane thought! Rob a 2nd screw from the other shoe (which still has all three)! I do some quick jumps to make sure everything stays put, then roll to the line. I nod to same-jersey-guy and off we go.

The course is a *new* painfully short, near perfect 1 km square. I miss the old course.




















We are set to do a mind numbing 35 laps.
After just 3 laps, 2 riders jump clear. I snicker. A lap later, I'm asked by another rider, lets call him Vlad, if I want to bridge up with him. I must appear fit or something. I tell him "I still need to get a few laps in my legs, besides, they're not going anywhere". A moment later, my teammate jumps away and Vlad decides to go with him. Hmmm. There's still a lot of racing to do and that headwind is nasty. I play the dutiful teammate and sit on everyone's wheel. No one's going to bridge w/o dragging me along. As predicted though, that little chase begins to come apart and the two early birds aren't making much progress. I figure as soon as we catch same-jersey and Vlad, I'll counter. I try to give same-jersey a heads-up when I go, but he doesn't or can't join in. I draw 3 others out including Vlad, and we bridge. There's now 6 in the break. I figured this would stick and sure enough it did (we ended up lapping the field, such as it was). I did some recon on a prime and SUPRISE!, realized I was the weakest sprinter, but not the weakest rider. I start to take stock of the break. There's Vlad, Red Bull, Chewbacca, Kermit, Mr never-pull-into-the-wind,( lets, just call him Jerk) and me. My only chance at a decent placing is to whittle things down. Jerk is really pissing me off early in the break. He feigns work and takes pretend pulls, but he looks to be a strong sprinter. I quietly vow to see he doesn't win. As we establish a good gap, we settle into the monotony. The wind is really taking it's toll on me though. Down wind we soft-pedal at 28MPH. Into the wind it's a struggle to push 19. We do this ad naseum until Kermit and Red Bull get bored and jump with about 15 to go. It's a good strong move and they get a gap, but a two laps later, Kermit looks to be pedaling squares. I figure there's no way Red Bull can go it alone so I wait. I try and get Vlads attention and mention my plan. Of all the others, he's rolling the smoothest. If the two of us can get away, I think we can make it stick. I up the pace, hoping to reel the others in w/about 10 to go. With 9 to go, we catch. I look back at Vlad and think he sees me. I jump and get a gap, I put in one more big effort into the wind, but look to find Jerk on my wheel instead of Vlad! I pull off and he doesn't come around. Game over. No way am I towing this guy clear. I can feel my hamstring beginning to cramp. If I stand up to jump again, they'll seize so I just sit and dig. I try a 2nd half hearted jump, but it goes no where as well. I just dont' have the legs...and for some reason, I'm the one being marked. I find this amusing. If they only knew the state I'm in. It actually makes me laugh out loud. With half a lap to go, Red Bull puts in a BIG effort, I get his wheel, but my legs snap off and fall into the gutter as a result. Everyone goes by. C'est la vie. I go back find my legs, but some kids have already run off, using them as light sabers. My hamstrings start to seize so bad I'm not sure I can drive home. WTF? Wattage wise, the race was hardly news worthy, but I soon realize 'fit' does not equal 'crit fit'. Those efforts out of the corners and into that wind have destroyed my hams. Vlad and I chat afterwards. He agrees the plan would have worked, but he hadn't really caught everything I was try to say because of the wind.
So I'm barely able to walk and got zip to show for it. Vlad got 3rd?

On the plus side, I did read the race to a tee.

But simply knowing is not enough. Much to my chagrin, you need some legs to pull it off.

Oh, and the Jerk got nada!.

Lets do the time warp again!

My friend Rhoda is reliving his youth in style. He recently completed this beauty, a custom Retrotec with just a smitch of gilding.
















He's been all smiles for weeks. So have I and I haven't even ridden the damn thing. All that glorious anodizing took me back a looooong way. Back to the first custom bike I ever laid eyes on. It was (and still is) owned by Monsieur Rick. At the time, M. Rick was the head wrench at GypinNRippin. He later owned the other shop I worked in for many years. I met him and his bike on rides he and BIG DAVE led outta the Y. The bike really had an influence on my 16 yr old brain. I had no idea something like that could exist. He let me ride it. I swooned. M. Rick and I have been friends for nearly 30 yrs so it was without hesitation on either end that I asked for and received some bad pics and even worse copy from him. Here's what he sent.

"here is what I can remember about the history of these bikes. (remember, my brother Jim has a fraternal twin to mine. The geometry is not the same (tighter rear triangle) and his has a different patern of panels on the seat tube.)

I am pretty sure I built these in 1974. we picked Proteus design company of College Park, MD because they would build a frame to my dimensions, they used DuPont Imron paint, they could chrome plate the dropouts (only the dropouts - this was for durability, not flash. I didn't want 8 inches of chromed stays & forks which was common on high end bikes of that era.), and we could afford them.

I wanted my bike to feel sporty & be fairly quick handling so I went with 73 degree head & seat tube angles & 1 5/8" of fork rake. I also was doing some bike touring at that time and I wanted to be able to mount by frame pump behind the seat tube so I had fairly long chain stays. with the horizontal Campi dropouts I could push the wheel all the way forward & get a fairly normal (so I thought) feel to the back end. I remember us swapping bikes one ride & you commented that the bike handled like a full size Porsche station wagon, quick handling front end & the rear follows along a while later. after riding other stock high end bikes later in my life, I realized just how much truth there was to that assessment. but, I digress... the frame was made of double butted Reynolds 531 (remember, that's 5 - 3 - 1, not 5 - 31) tubing, silver brazed with (I forget whos) cutout lugs & a fastback seat cluster. I am pretty sure the BB shell was a Cinelli that they cut out to my pattern. The fork had a Cinelli slopping crown. (pretty, but not very stiff. I straightened the fork a couple of times - no crashes, just hard riding knocked it out.) after I converted this bike to a single speed commuter, I put on a carbon fork (Michigan roads are soooo smooth).

the groupo was full Campi Nuovo Record (they came out with Super Record a year or two later.) I dismantled the components & took them to a local machine shop that did anodizing. we had to be careful that NO steel was included, as the anodizing gave the aluminum parts a beautiful color that resisted corrosion, it would have turned any steel (pivot pins, hub cups, etc...) into disfigured junk. we went with a combinatioon of gold & black parts because we thought it looked cool (& we were from Detroit.) these were also colors that came out of the anodizing tanks with pretty consistant color. blue, red, etc... may come out lighter or darker shades, depending on the alloy (at least that is what the anodizing shop told us.) when I swapped forks I had to do away with my Cinelli handlebar & stem. (no one makes a direct connect stem with the 26.4mm clamp size that Cinelli used back then) I didn't mind too much since they were only 38cm wide (again, the style back then.).

I should point out a few things:

• M. Rick was 16 in 1974. How many 16 yr old do you know with the savy to purchase a custom frame? In 1974 no less?
  
• M. Rick was not born with a silver anything in his mouth so he obviously had his priorities straight. That's a lot of lawns to mow.
• Imron was light years ahead of the crap paint coming out of Italy in those days, but growing up in Detroit, Imron was known to even 3rd graders.
  
• Dig the saddle...Is that an avocet!?!?
  
• 35 years later, the bike is still in service as a daily commuter!
  
• It's the same Proteus Design that authored the framebuilding handbook.
• Proteus was also one of the 1st US builders to be certified to silver solder 753.
• Missing are pics of the custom cutouts, and the gold and black anodized F. & R Ders!
  
• Later revisions of the Nuovo Rec. R. ders wouldn't allow for anodizing as the steel spring was held in w/ a non replaceable pin instead of the small steel nut and bolt.
• M. Rick plays some fine Bass.
  
• Those ARE some really crappy pics!

M. Rick, I'm even more impressed than before. You were a nerd when I met you. You must have been one really nerdy 16 yr old. Coming from me, that saying something! Wear it proud!
You and your bro were really at the head of the class. Take a bow.
That is still one great looking bike. I do miss the original fork though. I'd love it if you restored it and had everything re-anodized but I know that's not your style.

Way to go my man, way to go.

More people I hate!

I Hate creative people. HATE. THEM. My sister, the kids at Stamen, Sacha, my "Mad Men" neighbor and just about everyone at House Industries. Damn them all. I've always wanted to be cool, have a cool business card, hand them to people who had no interest whatsoever in whatever it was I was doing. The card however, would stop them stupid and change their mind. I even started a business long ago just so I could have an excuse to get one. The aforementioned sister came up with a sweet logo to boot. But alas, I was in the veritable debtors prison of students loans and could not afford such luxury. Then I came upon this site and realized just how futile my efforts would have been. I'm on my knees.

Here's just a smudge of what's behind the curtain.





























There's sooo much more.

Seeing is believing...

Unless of course you are looking at the Michael Jackson Neverland auction items.

Be sure to check out the comments on the actual flickr set if you have the time.
Though sparse, I couldnt' agree more.

2:08 minutes of smile.

If you're about my age, you are a Raymond Scott fan even if you don't know it. And if you are not one after listening to this, the grumpy bus leaves in 5 minutes...please be on it. Someday, I will pull together the quintet/sextet/octet, pull out my "Powerhouse" arrangements, and let er rip' to the delight of neighbors young and old. And Oh if I could only locate a Celeste, "Toy Trumpet" and "Minute in Jazz" look out!

Hooray for Sciencessness!

Hg is one of my favorite elements from a strictly nerdgeek point of view. From a treehunging one, though, it's a bitch. I'm also partial to K (spontaneous combustion. Yeah!), Li(spontaneous combustion AND mind altering!) Os (oh so dumb...er...dense), Pr (fun so say and spell), and just about anything radioactive.

Me Like

Some things were funny then and some things are funny now. This is either always funny or was never funny to begin with. I'm still not sure which. Enjoy...or not.

Brought to you by the good and friendly folks at D&R.

A prayer

Dear God, please do not let me EVER, EVER come across an Eshelman micro car. I'm afraid a would happily pay ridiculous sums to acquire and restore such a piece of 50's perfection
I weep joy just looking at it. More after the jump

Well that's a relief.

Looks like times are tough all over.

"Citigold clients may also receive free non-standard checkbooks if they maintain a combined average balance of at least $500,000 two calendar months prior to placing the order."

That's kindofalot of scratch for free checkin'. Heck, If I had that kinda hay sitting around in my checking/savings, one would presume I had significantly more stashed in accounts bearing a little more than 1.01%.

Feeling a little, well, guilty.

Pictured is my oldest girls first bike, a 16" Trek "Mountain Cub" given to us by a neighbor. Yep. 23.56 lbs.

From March 22, 2009

I think it should be rebadged the Trek "Tiger Tank". Seriously. I pretty sure it's cast iron. I can't imagine schlepping that anchor around the playground all day. It's comically overbuilt. I swear I've seen these frames being used by CalTrans in bridge retrofits. When my daughter started riding it, she was probably in the 30-35lb range. My rain trainer weighs less with fenders, a pump and seat lump.

From March 22, 2009

A lot less. Not to mention ...ahem...the race rig (ed. the vanity me made me post that)

From March 22, 2009

Her new 20" bike weighs mercifully less than the girder she'd been pounding. It's made of that new wonder material ALUMINUM and sports futuristic ALLOY components previously only found on the space shuttle and in top secret military applications.

From March 22, 2009

But I'm still not guilt free. Commiseratory me should be riding around on a 115lb albatross. Since that's not going to happen I'm considering maybe a three piece crank and an SRP ti bolt kit?

Happiness is a warm puppy...and apparently, so is working here.

My last post was a bit of a downer, but we're all getting better, thank you very much. It also helped greatly to swing by xtracycle and visit Pippi and PuddinPie. I knew they had moved to my neck of the urban woods a ways back and always wanted to pedal by. Pippi started working there awhile ago and PuddinPie just started Monday. I rolled up after a quick lunch ride and thought I'd drop in to say "hey". .You woulda thunk it was Christmas from the look on Puddin's face. It cheered me up lots. Then Pippi came out to say "howdy". She's still smiling. No tarnish on this honeymoon yet. There's an old Airstream in the parking lot about to be converted to a conference room and a couch on wheels. That right there is enough to show teeth. Seeing genuinely nice people being happy made me happy too. Thanks g(uy)al.

Nothing.

There's a reason no one tells you about it. The reason is that it cant' be articulated. There are no words that heavy. If there were, their weight would tilt the world on it's axis. Nothing can prepare you for the suffering of your own. Crushing, profoundly crushing.

May I present Bizkit, the sleepwalking dog!

This is funny until the very end...then it's just funny.

Words are useless....gobblegobblegobblegobble

GODDAMMITT!

I freakin' missed it! Juana Molina's come and gone. Who knows when she'll be back. CRAPCRAPCRAP CRAP CRAP! FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*ck!

If you don't know who she is, this clip's a nice intro.. If you don't like it or at least appreciate the craft, I think you should leave now...don't forget your shoes.

Hee Hee!

Just look at the Cheshire on Horners face...You know he's thinkin'
"I love my job."

My sentiments exactly!

Cut and Pasted from Mark Pilders Blog w/o permission or remorse.

a clean well lighted... ...redux

2/19/09

When I finally quit this messenger shit, once and for all, I’m going to open a bike shop. A big bright historic space with huge store front windows and high ceilings and wood floors. With passive solar heating in the winter, and well placed shade in the summer. I’m going to work there all the time, six or seven days a week. The shop will be beautiful, stocked with every bike tool ever invented. French, Italian, Japanese, you name it, I will have it, hung neatly on the shop walls. Everything in its place. A place for everything. I will have two Campagnolo Cork Screws with Cherry handles. I will have seven different kinds of bike tool bottle openers. I will have four brands of headset presses. The 3000 square foot work space will have work stands and tools for 5 full-time mechanics, so I can work on 5 of my bikes all at once. 2 air compressors enclosed in sound proof cases. Truing stands bolted down to work benches 42.5 inches off the ground. I will have two Phil Wood spoke cutters/threaders. There will be cement floors and drains built in so I can hose it all down when the kegs overflow or the chainlube explodes or the cat pukes or the shit hits the fan. I will have shop dogs and shop cats. The bike book library will be monumental. The furniture will be well designed, attractive, comfortable and functional. There will be no non-dairy creamer. The coffee will be good. The beer will be cold. There will be wholesale accounts with everyone and everyone. Paul, Phil, Chris, Grant, Brooks, Mavic, Moots, Sachs, Sidi, Swobo. For me and my friends of course.

I will be at work all the time. I’ll show up 5:30am, or 3:00pm, or not at all. I’ll spend the night. I’ll stay for two weeks straight. Or take a week off if I feel like it. However, the shop will not be open to the public. The sign on the door will say “closed”, and if you flip it over it‘ll say “closed”. I’ll also have a large neon CLOSED sign, and it’ll be on all the time, like a beacon of freedom constantly sending its message, at all hours of the day and night. I’ll be in there working hard on my own bikes. Or on poetry, free lance writing, silk-screening, carpentry, cooking breakfast, pondering or drinking beer and pondering. The shop hours will not be posted. The phone will not be connected, so people cannot call and ask about the shop hours. And there will not be any employees because I won’t need any. This will eliminate any potential human relations issues, staff meetings, communication failures, personality problems, scheduling conflicts, and all the junior-high shit that goes along with trying to run a business with employees. Fuck that.

I will be in the shop but I won‘t be selling anything. Retail bullshit will not enter my sphere of existence. The windows will have incredible displays of bicycle art and elegant simple functional bikes because I like window displays. And I’ll spend hours creating them for my own enjoyment, not to attract customers. I‘ll be in the shop, reading the NY Times, listening to Miles Davis, or the White Stripes, or the Minute Men, or Bob Mould, or Guided by Voices, or Modest Mouse, or Guns n Roses or NPR and drinking coffee and beer and beer and coffee. Customers with stupid questions or flat tires or sheepskin seat covers or cracked carbon fiber forks can knock on the door all day long and I might even notice them between Husker Du songs playing on the Bose Wave Radio, but probably not, and if I do, I’ll give them a half smile then get back to my work. My work as a sole proprietor and my work drinking beer and pondering.

The back door will be unlocked and open whenever I am in the shop. And friends can stop by and bring their dogs and work on their bikes and add or subtract to the cold beer in the double wide Sub-Zero fridge or hit the bottomless pot of black coffee. The shop will include a beautiful stainless steel commercial sized kitchen. And a sleeping loft and an amazing bathroom with more magazines than a news stand, and I will not have to worry about customers fucking it up, because there will not be any customers.

From Russia with Love...

This site is to LOLCATS as Neotame is to sugar. F-ing Hilarious. Here's just a sample...

Bask in your Western accoutrement, Romanov harlot…I prepare your final resting place, as your overfed corpse will make a fine fertilizer for my potato crops

Have strength, my little cabbage. By the mercy of NKVD Order No. 00447, we have been chosen for Resettlement.

We will show the tin mines of Kolyma the true power of the proletariat.

The almost most fun I've had this year!

Man that hurt...Thanks Evan!

photo stolen from esarna

Why didn't I make this!

'Cause I have no talent, but I CAN at least embed urls ;-)

Go Polska Moped! Go!

Stinky Sent me this little treat. Thanks Stinky!

Ding! Fries are done.

I made a connection this morning that I must say, I'm embarrassed to have missed for so long. Once upon a youth, I was a trumpet player and Jack Sheldon was an big inspiration. He had a breezy, airy tone not unlike my own. It's not a tone for classical music, I would be reminded frequently, but I loved the notes that horn sang. He was Vince w/ brass. The album on the left was one of the first records I purchased w/ my own grass cutting money. On my way into work this morning, A Sheldon tune came on. Dont' you love that? Now this was odd? It had a vocaltrack. A vocal? None of the Jack Sheldon I ever purchased had vocal tracks. And I swore it was the same vocalist from "I am a bill/Conjunction Junction". What the F....? I couldn't get to a computer fast enough. Shock! It's all Jack all the time playing and singing! The Wikipedia page was even more amazing. Merv Griffins side kick, acting credits all over the place, playing cuts on Foreign Affairs. How'd I miss THAT ferchrissake. Sooo many connections. I can't wait to see the documentary. Which remindns me...no wonder I was such a fan of Pops (if you jump anywhere from this post, jump there) ....

Hey Mister Mayor....You Suck!

The Hln8r had a chance run-in with our sterling mayor yesterday. Now I understand he was a respected and accomplished congessman, but as a mayor, he's setting a pretty low bar to trip over. What he was doing up at our rinkely-dinkely Safeway is somethin' I'm still itchin' to know, but after un-wisely trying to make cutesy talk w/ our 2.5 yr old daughter (aka feisty-pants), the Hln8r looked him in the eye and said "This city needs a LOT of help", then continued into the Safeway. She apparently caught him a bit off guard, as the poor Quixote was left standing beside his limo shouting campaign slogan after her. Oh Fortuna, to have been a witness to such bliss! I'm getting all tingley again. I hearts the Hln8r!

happyhappyjoyjoy

Mmmmm...Junk Miles.

When I was growing up, asking for a snack provoked an almost autonomic response from my parents. The phrase "have an apple" was so commonplace it was uttered as often as "clean your room". In a household of five kids, that's basically saying it every other breath. My idea of a snack was a Dolly Madison Zinger...so completely superior to a Twinkie as to make the comparison laughably absurd. I digress. I haven't done many junk miles these past 6 years. This past fall, I don't think I did a single one. Others may call by comparison the type of riding I do "junk" but they sure don't feel that way to me.
Over the past 5 months, I was either on the cross bike...hurtful...or staring at a powertap display...hurtful AND demoralizing. Whenever I looked at my training plan after a hard block, never did I see those sweet words "go do some junk miles". It was always some oh-so practical recovery ride. It was always "have and apple". So these past few weeks, I've been getting fat on nothing but a steady diet of junk miles and while it may not do the body much good, it sure is Zinger for the soul.

Cool Hand Luke

I give you Chesley Sullenberger.

Why Cross Rulz #52 Mariachi!...Race Report #12

The Peak Season Series feels like the Surf-City of old. It can't help it. It shares some of the same DNA. Although I felt like calling it a season, I couldn't help dragging myself out to the course of courses, the Watsonville County Fairgrounds. I love this course. But as with any love affair, there's bound to be lows, and this low was to put me about 6 feet under. I'd love to blame the course, the weather, the stars. As usual I can only blame myself. If there's one lesson I'll take home from racing SS this season, it's 'trust your instincts'. Instead, I listened to my bloated ego, stuffed on a HUGE gear I had used on flatter, much drier (e.g faster) courses and proceeded to die a thousands deaths as I flogged thebike through glue-grass. I should send AJM a thank you card for lapping me and mercifully severing my proverbial head a lap early and end my suffering. I was crapping after only 20 minutes in. The only thing that kept me going was the Madster slapping me high fives each remaining lap, joyously oblivious to my suffering and nieve in the futility of my effort. Damn that hurt.


photo nabbed from photoblake

I Heart Darwin

I give you the long crowing rooster. Who knew?

Back at it...kinda. Race Report 11.

Well, I couldn't sit around any longer. I'd been unable to ride for two weeks. I just wanted to show up and Give 'er. So I did. I was actually able to lead the charge for about 20 minutes. Then I was able to sit on for another 20 minutes. Then I just watched everyone ride away for the last 20. Still, I wasn't too bummed. I had the Madster w/me. She's a great cheering section and the free baked goods made it worth her while. Thanks to Better Crocker for those cup cakes! I really enjoyed racing the SS this year. I still like geared bikes, but I'll definately split it up again next year.

Oh!

While I might not believe all the hype surrounding the new "Newton", their compostable flowerpot shoebox alone might be enough incentive to try a pair.

Race Report #10.

Didn't happen. Too sick...still. I'm sooo depressed. All you snot are belong to us. I also just got word that the stairs are back for this weekends series ending race. I'll open a vein if I'm not well enough.
Grrrrr!

Never say "Never"!

I loathe Barbie as much as the next person. Even I bit more so now that I have two girls and never-ever-ever want them to be exposed to the evil...until now.

From AWESOME to not so much. Race Report #9

I have an EVIL cold. Not evil as in symptomatically heinous, I mean evil as in conniving, plotting, and decieving. You see, it didn't really act like a cold. As a matter of fact it masqueraded as soemthing else entirely. My youngest had the sniffles on Thurs or Friday and I had them on Saturday, but they weren't that bad. I was convinced it was some freak late season pollen spike...in December. Yeah, that makes sense. Sunday, my warm up was so-so, but again I managed to rationalize it away. On the crux of the start lap, 20-30 meters of uphill woodchips following another 300 meters of climbing, I was running 6th, then 5th as Lambert went down in the switchback. I was stoked. 1st decent start of the season! I lost a spot in the transition. No worries. I'll get it back in the sand I thought. I ran the beach, remounted and watched the lead group power away. No worries. I'll make it up on the backside I told myself. Then I heard laughter. Tiny little laughing voices. "Horton Hears a Who-We are Here" tiny. and *SNAP* It was over that fast. Through the course of the race I was demoralized 10 more times as I went from 6th to 17th and could do nothing to prevent the hemorrhaging. All the while, I had to listen to the chorus of rhinovirus laughing from within. Little bastards. It wasn't the race I'd hoped for. I was still in denial until I got home. I was shattered. Twice as exhausted as the week before when I pushed WAY harder. Then I felt the sore throat. Ah well. at least I gots me an excuse. Thanks for the pics Jon

"Be the ball Danny..." Race Report #8

Ah, Golden Gate Park. The crown jewel of the BASP series (my personal favs are still some of the old Surf City courses, but that's another post). It's got great flow and on this day, nearly perfect conditions. Sunny but cool with a nice tacky surface thanks to some mid-week rain. I didn't feel great during warmup, but I never feel great so I try not to let it bother me. I somehow managed to not pay attention and got myself boxed in at the startline. After the whistle, I pushed my way up though the pack into decent position as we hit the bottle neck right hander some 300 meters in. This is where the foot deep loam enters the picture. The proverbial 'crux' as it were.... Pure CHAOS. I mean really, come on fellas. A sage old crosser once told me. "Always hit the crappy lines in warm-up. Any idiot can ride a good line." I took a 'crappy' line (all the 'good' lines were taken), passed about 5 riders in as many meters, nearly sideswiped some poor soul going ass-over-teakettle, then got tangled w/ my own teammate, Jesus, who for some reason thought he could fit between me and the course tape rubbing against my arm. I watched in slow motion as his pedal slipped under my chain and gingerly threw it off. CRAP!!!! quick shift....Pedal. Oh crap. Not working....ABORT. Plan B! Get off, relax and put the chain back on. I remount and look up to see the back of the bus some 75 meters up the trail. Brilliant! From 10th to last in less the 50 seconds. It's at this moment I remembered Jaybird and a race nearly 20 years ago. *Flashback*. It's the late 80's. Jaybird and I are racing MTB full on. It's all we do and we are boring as hell to be around as a result.But the Jaybird is FAST. Wicked FAST. I quietly hate him for it and often think of suffocating him as he sleeps in what tries to pass for a bed in those crap motels we stay in. Unfortunately, he's funny, a fellow geek/nerd traveler and best friend so I'm obliged to let him live and beat me yet again. It's the heyday of mountain biking and the fields are large, even for a local race like this. On this particular day, I'm recovering from the flu so the Chowderhead and I are just working support. Jay is holding the winning ticket but the hole shot is critical. Some 86 experts are on the line. 50 meters after the start is a left turn up a hill. Another 100 meters up then a right turn into the single track...and we're talking Michigan single track. It's top 5 or certain death. Jay jumps hard at the gun. Chowderhead and I are 50 meters up the hill and we see Jaybird charge it, bumpin' and bangin' in 2nd or 3rd position when WHAM! he's down...and hard. I'm still not sure what happened. He jumps up and looks O.K, but his brakes are fubar'd and his bars are twisted. By the time he sorts himself out, the last of the 85 enter the woods. He's sailoring up a storm and is this close (o.k. squeeze your thumb and index finger together tight) to throwing it in. At that very instant, the Chowderhead and I share a horrific thought. We've got a 4 hour bitch fest of a drive home if he doesn't get back on the bike! We WonderTwin it and shout in stereo. "GET ON THE F#CKING BIKE!" To our amazement it works. Jaybird scowls at us, jumps on and takes off. Now if I recall, The race was prolly 1:30-1:45 long. Laps were maybe 15 minutes. The course was a clover leaf so we could keep tabs on Jaybird from a central locale. About 5 minutes after the start, the riders came out of the wood and up a mid-ring climb about 200-300 meters long. By the time we see Jaybird shoot into the clearing, there's a lot of laundry already strung out on it, seated but pushing hard. Jaybird however is outta the saddle, in the MEAT, and just drilling it. His face all fury and rage as if Fortuna herself had descended upon him back there at the start and he was determined to shrug her off. He passes 20 riders! The Chowderhead and I are convulsing w/ laughter. The next lap is a near fascimile, less a few riders a bit more strung on the line. As each lap passes, Jaybird catches riders on that climb. When the storm clears, General Sherman...er...Jaybird has layed waste to nearly everything in his path and sits 4th (maybe 5th). *end flashback*. So it was with this image that I set out on my quest. Now, I don't have that kind of anger in me, and neither does Jaybird anymore thank heavens, so I was pleased to pull back just 11 of the 29 that lay ahead plus a handfull of 35 A's. I felt as good on the bike as I've felt all season. I'm almost as pleased about my placing as I am about that through some unbelievable chance, there's even a photo of the gaffe!

Race Report #7. That was fun...but it couldza a been more funner

There's a first for everything. Today at LARPD, the SS entries outnumbered the A's. And this time Cheetah was on hand. He's the series leader so I was looking forward(or not) to see how I'd stack up and to see how my new training plan was working. It goes something like this. Train hard, get sick, race poorly, take week off, race well. Rinse and repeat. When the whistle blew, Cheetah, myself and Ace (one of the A's) hit the front a got a quick gap. The legs, they had good sensations and with some much lucky, maybe a good race. I saw no need to push it too much as we built a good cushion on lap 2. It was shaping up to be a fun race. I could tell Cheetah and I were riding about the same so we began toying with each other a bit to see who had what where. Then I thoughtI noticed my front tire getting squirrely. I rode lap 3 in denial: "it's not going flat...it's not going flat. then lap 4 trying to will air into the tire. Ace and Cheetah had gone to the front but didn't really jump until I hit the pit. Thanks for not attacking earlier when y'ins knew I was running on about 5 psi (It took awhile for the sealant to do it's thing I guess). That was classy. Jesus met me for a wheel change...smooth as butter...Thanks Bro! but it still took about 15 seconds. Cheetah gassed it w/ Ace and I could never make up the ground. Too bad. It was going to be a battle. Cheetah has the series locked up. I missed too many races, but we both were bummed about the flat and I hope he shows up just to keep things interesting!

Race Report #6. From bad to worse.

This race started off w/ bad karma nearly from the minute I pulled into the parking lot. All the main lots were full as my race was the 2nd to last of the evening and given the carnival atmosphere that is nighttime cross, no one was going anywhere. I pulled into a nearby office building, parked and started to get my gear ready. I pulled my bike of the car and w/o really thinking, leaned the rear tire against the bumper of the car next to me. I pulled out my B-day gift (thanks Zank!) and began to inflate the tires. Mr and Mrs C&C D roll up and Mr C yells (not politely mind you) "Hey, That's My CAR!" as if I'm about to boost his stereo. I reply in kind w/ a not so polite. "Relax" and moved my bike away. He then demands an apology. I'm a little dumb struck by this but manage a "Sorry dude, it's only a tire". "Exactly!" he says, which dumbfounds me still further. What kind of life does one live if someones tire on your bumper at a bike race stresses you out like that. Now over the past 4 or 5 years, despite racing in probably 30 or 40 of the same races, those words are the sum total of our interactions. I'm not hopeful for a budding friendship. Such a strange exchange from such a strange little man. And in case you were wondering, it was a Mazda MPV. Oh yeah, the race itself. Well if that little interlude didnt' leave a bad taste in my mouth, the dust cloud that enveloped our race certainly did. I was still caughing up bits of Brisbace at 11:00p.m. I didn't feel great all day and it foreshadowed the race. The course was short, dusty, and bumpy w/ zero recovery. 4:30-5:00 minute lap times were going to be the norm. Not really my cup of tea, but c'est la cross. I actually had a really good start, passing people easily and running as high as 8th before the lights went out. I suddenly had no answer for any of the surges that soon followed. I was suffering pretty bad when I saw 5 to go, and really thought of heading for the car. I still have know idea how I managed a mid-pack finish. I'm sure I owe it all to mechanicals or bad lap scoring. In retrospect, I was sick and didnt' know it. The whole family was feeling it on Sunday with one kid even throwing up. It's Tuesday as I write this and I still feel like I was thrown under a bus. It could be worse...my initials could be C.D.

thanks photoblake

Why Cross Rulz #51...and Race Report #5

So I'm pre-riding the course with JohnnyGreenGiant as he is cooling down after just taking 2nd in the 35A's. I'm racing SS today with the Open A's and I'm rolling around on some file treads I raced here a few weeks back. Today though, the course has nothing in common w/ that speedway. The fast grassy sections have been replaced by sand the the long straights have been balled up in a knot. I'm tip-toeing through every corner....and I didn't bring any other wheels cause I decided to sleep instead of glueing them up late into the night. JGG offers his front wheel to me. A flexus glued up on 58mm of C14 heaven. That's cross for ya. Complete strangers will hand you the sweetest set up to flog without thinking twice. I politely declined, but did accept his offer of a pit wheel, a clincher running a racing ralph. Hallelujah!. The rear still had a mind of it's own but the front was cooperating nicely. The SS field is never big at this series, but I tell myself in a Nietzsche-esque sort of way that it's good training. Lots of curves, lots of sand, lots of barriers. Even a six-pack on this one. Oh, did I mention that I also decided to run a taller gear (that's me in the photo showing the gearing I chose) as I was often spun out on those long straights last time. Well, I was able to stay mid-pack w/ the A's until the gear began to expand. What started out as a 42x17 somehow ended up as a 215x17. I was caught w/ two to go, hung on for a lap as the attacks started then got dropped half way through the last lap...ARGGGH. I still managed to hang on for the win in the SS cat, but was further down in the A's than I should have been if had I turned myself inside out (which I'm not wont to do). I won't mention the size of the SS pack, or the fact that half of them had also raced earlier in the day. A win is a win is a win and at this stage of the game, I'll take 'em as they come.

The Stick....Race Report #4

I hate the 'stick' almost as much as Mclaren. It's a dusty, bumpy, power course. I few days of rain leading up, however, can work miracles, even on that wretch of a course. I wasn't sure how things were going to go. I had gotten the flu two weeks back which forced me to miss the Halloween Surf City race. I still haven't gotten over that loss. It's my favorite race of the season and the last course I ever won on....*sigh*. Anywho, Leading up to this race, I had to scale back the training block. The course as I said is bumpy and twisty save for a long road stretch. The rain at least made it sticky and Flexus @ 30psi hooked well. My start was not great, but not bad yet the legs felt a little sluggish and didnt' have the punch necessary to push through the 35 A traffic we start catching midway through the first lap. It took a good two laps for them to loosen up and to accelerate on demand. By that time, Jesus had caught me and we rode half a lap until he bogged down a bit on the run section and I went on by. To be honest, I really wasn't paying much attention to the race up front. I had my eye on Cornbeef, gaining on my six. So I have to say I was a bit suprised when I rolled up to a 4-pack as we hit the long paved section on the last lap. I quick glance and I saw three #5xx series numbers. My race series. Holy Crap, a 4 up sprint.
Now, let me remind y'all, I haven't been in this situation in quite some time....and I run a "junior" cluster in the rear (14-25) leaving me w/ a top 44x14. I honestly didn't ever think I'd need much more. I had about 3 seconds to contemplate my navel. Dan jumped 1st to see who'd come out to play and George bit hard. I jumped George's wheel. I was in a good gear to accelerate up, but it was also the same gear I'd have to run the last 100 meters with and. could. not.come...around. Missed it by a tire width. That's racing. It was a good all things considered. I'm looking forward to Goldden Gate. I just need to stay healthy.

NYS.

Sven and I have something in common. Unfortunately, it's not the engine.

Consumate V's! I just wet myself...

So true, so funny,so many levels. Mclaren in a nutshell. PuddinPie, you slay me!

Speedvagen 2008...Can I get any better than this?

I bet it can, if the 2008 model is any indication. Gone is the beautiful, yet not as functional stainless seatcap. The new seatcap is far simpler and more functional. Kudos. The teardtop tt has been replaced by a sleeker and sexier one. I'm sure there's some weight savings and performance improvement in there somewhere, but I just like looking at it! The ride is just perfect. And the paint...er....powder. Dear God. All I can say is Sacha's really screwed himself this time. This years "Suprise me" is going to be hard to top. Then again, I've learned not to 2nd guess the man.

The nitpick: no post of mine would be complete without some sort of complaint. Come on Sacha! We speedvageneers want our own headbadge...and dropouts...and custom cross stems!
So There (sticks out tongue)!

Some Sad, Some Happy. Race Report #3.

The local: Mclaren Park. The course: Super-sucky: My results: not Super-sucky, just sucky.
Let's get one thing straight, I hate this course...well, most of it. I do like the run-up, but it's still far too bumpy/climby for my taste. That being said, my placing doesn't reflect my hindsight-reality. I started slow, didn't foresee the inevitable traffic jam of the 35+A's which only started about 20 seconds in front of us, and did the unthinkable...cased a barrier, tripped, and arrested my fall by augering my front wheel, twisting my bars 90 degrees. I also dropped a chain!Dammit! Those barriers are my f-ing bread&butter. It also came at the end of lap 1, so everyone was still flying and I dropped about 6-8 places in no time. It took another lap just to get a rhythm back. On the plus side, I know I can push harder. I know I'm not peaking yet. I'm looking forward to GGP. The flexus hooked up well and I pushed them pretty hard on the 1st crazyass left sweeping descent. Glad I let out a 5psi at the start.

• Things of Note: Rhoda raced the 35+ A, then had 10, maybe 15 minutes to suck some water and GU's before jumping in to the SS race. I'm there consolling my sorry ass and he's out doubling. I'm feeling so small.
• The Fox score a much deserved podium. I wish he raced for Team Oakland. hint hint.
  
• And speaking of Team Oakland, I just want to say thanks. It's such a great team. It's full of people who put in far more time and work that I can, yet give me ZERO grief. Just the opposite as a matter of fact. I arrive w/ only enough time to warm-up for my race and I can never stick around and help out as the guilt of leaving my wife w/ the two tasmanian devils starts to bear down on me. I'm always packing up my crap and clearing out as if my P.O. was coming. Just as I'm getting ready to leave, ToysRus hands me a hot Brat wrapped in a waffle, I little something for the road. Can I get an Amen!

15 seconds is a lifetime. Race Report #2

It's been almost a month to the day since my last race, which as you may recall, I was telling myself it was. I felt so bad during that when is was over, I just wanted to have a yard sale and be done with it. Well, I knew in the recesses of my brain that I was never serious, but it sure was therapeutic to entertain the idea of a life of competitive Boggle for a while anyway. The arrival of the Speedvagen SS also might have had something to do with the lifting my spirits. That thing should put a smile on anyone's face. It sure did on mine. Who cares how I ended up. It's just such a nice bike to ride. Anyway. I built up the bike and got ready to do my 2nd ever SS race. I really love SS cross bikes, and I ride them a fair amount during the off season. Racing them on the other hand seamed a little, well, nuts. I know that sounds silly for anyone who already races cross, but come on...SS in a splinter group from an already disfunctional family. It turns out I picked a good race to test the waters though as no one showed! Since the 1st NCNCA Cup race was the following day, few people were willing to double up. Only 3 of us lined up w/ the A's on SS rigs. Puddinpie and I were so busy chatting about that fact that we missed the start whistle. Super Genius. In all I rode a pretty clean race with one small hypoxic bobble, and only overextended my self a half dozen times, managing 2nd. Not sure how that would hold up in a "real" field, but hey, the depth of my ego is Mariana deep.

What I learned:

• Another 15 minutes of racing (I'm use to 45) felt like, well another 15 minutes of suffering for which my legs said they were not contractually obliged to complete. I offered to pay overtime, even doubletime and a half, and only when I offered copious massages did they grudgingly agree, but only at a pace of their choosing.
  
• 15 seconds is a lifetime on SS: A teammate was yelling my gap for the last half of the race. No matter how deep I dug, or how pathetically I tried to up the tempo, there the gap stayed. "Attacking" by going from 90 to 105 rpm may not look like much, but it hursts like hell.
• Don't have an SS tubby set built yet so I ran the new Vittoria Cross VN and loved it on all but the really loose stuff. I'll be picking up some Challenge XS soon.
  
• Puddinpie is right. Take away the gears and you can really concentrate on the race, the course, the transitions, the 15 second gap! It helped take my mind off the leg cramps.
• I GOTTA get my spin back.
• Cheers to Shane. The new course is fun. I do miss the run ups, but the grass section is a blast.
  

"Surprise You"!

Now it's your turn. I've already been surprised. Here she is...a little Evil K, a little Capt. America and some PBR thrown in for good measure. God Bless Sacha!