..I swear it, but Sunday consisted of a bunch of bike racing and a whole bunch more beer drinking.
Truth be told, I'm waiting on some photos to put the finishing touches on this one. Check back later on Monday. I'm sure I'll have it buttoned up by the time the headache wears off.
I totally blew it, but then again, there really is a first time for everything, isn't there?
-or while digging through the previously mentioned boxes of crap from my parent's house, that I found some of what were my very favorite toys.
My Magnum P.I. Key Car;
My Chevy Nomad Stomper;
And best of all, my Bigfoot truck, with 4WD, 2WD, forward, reverse, neutral, and working headlights;
And I mean to tell you, I really loved that Bigfoot truck. I brought batteries into work so see if she still ran, which much to my dismay, she didn't.
Last night I took the entire thing apart and cleaned it all out, minding all of the fragile solder points, and gave it another go today. It still will climb over piles of boxes like a little blue mountain goat. I asked Demonika if she thought it would be weird for a grown man to be playing with trucks at the playground, to which she responded "you should probably just play with them in the backyard." She's a smart one, that Demonika is.
But on a whim, I put together a little obstacle course and shot a video so you can experience the radness with me.
Right there at the end, it almost ran over my 9th grade Co2 car, which would have been ok, cause that thing sucked anyway. (It should be noted that I replaced the old video that had the Co2 car in it, with a new one that doesn't, because this one is so much more killer-er.)
I'll also include the advertisement that got it all started for me. If I remember correctly, the little rev, peel out thing at the 16 second mark is really what sold me on this particular item.
I'm thankful for my family, who if I were them, I would have abandoned me a long time ago.
I'm thankful for my friends.-
Many of whom you've read about here,
and many of whom have actually been made here.
I'm thankful that I got the opportunity to be the bummer life avoidence mouth piece.
Before I was doing this, I was mad about everything all of the time, but I was always trying very hard to keep things in check, and taking a daily inventory of all of the things that there are to be happy about, though because I was generally lacking the discipline that it takes to constantly remind myself, often times it would slip through the cracks.
Now that I do this, I can't ignore what makes me glad to be alive. I'm forced to acknowledge it all of the time, and that's pretty bad ass.
I'm thankful for our friend Private J.R. Waggle, who used to send meandering emails, but now that he's in boot camp, sends meandering letters containing centerpieces for the Wall of Shame like this;
Theres no need for you to squint and rub your eyes to see it better, as I will bring it closer;
Thats right, Private J.R. Waggle had to write 'I will not talk unless spoken to' one thousand times.
The armed forces are just like the third grade, except everyone is taller.
I'm thankful that Sonoma County has a cross series of their own, and regardless of how big the word 'heckling' is on the flyer, please keep yourself in check. This is cyclocross after all, and should be taken very seriously.
I'm thankful for the best Craigslist posting I've seen since the one that the random girl posted for me, which led to a night of debauchery that would have made Larry Flint blush.
I'm thankful for this image that Marty sent to me;
-and I'm thankful for this clip that Nat sent as well;
I'm thankful for my health, and that this is my backyard;
I'm also thankful for our newest feature here on How To Avoid The Bummer Life, 'The Kaptain's Korner'.
What bits of wisdom do you suppose he has for us today?
"How'd we all get here? How'd this core of folks, over the span of the last ten years and thanks in part to the glory of the internet, get to this point in time? Joined by the love of two wheels and the human engine, and all sprinkled with cheap American beer in cans. I began my research in the bike culture's doppleganger: Rock n Roll.
Children of the 70's mostly, all of us ending up with or without real jobs, but all sharing an unequivocal love of the bike. I wondered this to myself and thought "What would Izzy Stradlin have to say?" so I looked up his Wikipedia page. Izzy says of his childhood: "It was cool growing up there (CD - LaFayette, IN). There's a courthouse (Tippecanoe County Courthouse) and a college (Purdue University), a river (the Wabash) and railroad tracks. It's a small town, so there wasn't much to do. We rode bikes, smoked pot, got into trouble - it was pretty Beavis and Butthead actually."
So I also had to dig a little deeper and find the yang to Izzy's yin and pick up on what Slash had to say: "My big awakening happened when I was fourteen. I'd been trying to get into this older girl's pants for a while, and she finally let me come over to her house. We hung out, smoked some pot and listened to Aerosmith's Rocks. It hit me like a fucking ton of bricks. I sat there listening to it over and over, and totally blew off this girl. I remember riding my bike back to my grandma's house knowing that my life had changed. Now I identified with something."
What are the two constants in these guitar heroes' awakenings? Pot, and bicycles. And suddenly I too am awakened."
Despite the Captain's clean cut appearance;
-my man is a hessian, through and through.
It would be easy to go on and on about how much stuff I'm thankful for, and the fact that the list is such a long one is in itself something else to be thankful for.
I'm jumping out of here and ripping the chord for a few days, so in my absence, I genuinely hope that all of you have a fantastic few days ahead of you, with all of the fixings.
And maybe I shouldn't sign off without saying that I'm thankful for you all as well.
Even though that statement is as true as they come, it was sappy enough that now I gotta go punch myself in the mouth.
.. and then go play with my truck some more.
W.W.J.D.?
(I put that there cause this guys name is Jessee, but I think you know the answer. He'd fashion a disco ball out of a broken bathroom mirror and a deflated basketball, and GET DOWN.)
I didn't leave the house for even a moment this weekend. I sat at the computer the entire time making new and amazing designs for Swobo's 2009 line of bikes. Fortunately, I had a little bit of help from my friends.
No longer are top tube pads just for establishing individuality, and protecting paint as well as the pilot's soft parts, but Sam figured out how they might be applied for the frame's structural integrety as well;
Brady also had a couple of revolutionary designs to include;
At the end of the day however, we only have so much money to direct towards new products every year, so in light of the cutting edge technology that I've personally devised, Im afraid the other submissions might have to sit on the back burner until next year;
The one only known as 'Famous Author' also took time to submit a design, but based on my unwavering love of monkeys, I've decided that this wont end up being one of our new bikes, but rather will actually be the head badge on the new line;
Aside from immersing myself into my new self appointed post of Swobo product manager, I got busy cutting the tubing to length for my new beernet and trying it out for a test run in which I killed a can of beer in right around 15 seconds flat.
I have a sneaking suspicion that before the year is through, my new accessory will lead to some serious hijinx.
And by hijinx I mean barfing.
Speaking of which, (the hijinx, not the barfing) Erik sent us a link for a blog all about two previously unassociated activities, that seem to go together as well as chocolate and peanut butter;
"Might be right up your guys alley. At least it combines two of my favorite things...
Now in the standard turn of subject matter that if you've been reading The Bummer Life for any length of time, I'm sure you have become accustomed to, Snake Hawk wrote in with a random thought that he felt the need to share;
"JESUS LIZARD!!!
One time, david yow was hanging from a rafter in a kind of small joint. they were playing wheelchair epidemic and he dropped from the rafters right on top of me.
my friend then jumped on him and the 3 of us were in a big gay pile on the floor. then david yow pissed his pants. it got all over my jeans. that was an awesome show.
later,
hawk."
David is truly a consummate performer who only cares about his audience's good time, as proven by this clip that we've showcased here before;
CFO emailed us with thoughts on the epidemic of rampant unprofessionalism that is spreading though the national cyclocross circuit like a damned virus;
"I guess they don’t take ‘Cross seriously in NJ either…At USGP’s no less….."
If this guy knows what's good for him, he'd better not show his face in Boulder, or else he will get a stern talking to.
Hey, lookit what Ben sent to us;
"for the tech savvy alcoholic..."
Thats pretty cool, but then again, I thought it was a lighter.
I guess once again, that proves when it comes to computification, I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground.
Say, did you all notice this weeks header shot? For the first time ever we're using a drawing as opposed to the standard photo which was provided to us by the skilled hands of Chris Koelle.
Thank Chris, and I can only hope now that you've been featured here, you'll be prepared for the parade of attractive woman pushing wheelbarrows full of cash up your driveway.
At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that I sat at a computer all weekend and designed imaginary bikes.
That was a lie.
I also ate some food and took a shower, but beyond that, I excused myself and did a mostly off road, 50 mile cross ride to celebrate the 50 years on earth that our friend Mr. Suzuki has experienced. (I call him 'Mr.' because old people like to be shown that sort of respect.)
I wanted to include a photo of him riding a skateboard back in the day with his creepy little pimp moustache, as that was when we first made one another's acquaintance, but sadly I was unable to procure such an item, so in lieu of that, here's a photo of him riding up the l'Alpe d'Huez looking all jockish and doing his best Pantani.
Happy birthday old man. As I emailed him earlier, even though he's 14 years my senior, he's still able to tear me a new one when he wants to.
Later on in the weekend I ended up with a pretty neat little item which could conceivably draw me even further from the stone age. Its an ION turntable, which if you were smarter than I am, would allow you to record your vinyl records to your computer.
I've waited a long time for such a technology, but as it stands, it looks like I just have ended up with an incredibly expensive paper weight on my desk.
You would have thought that I learned my lesson about technology, but the bells and whistles caught me off guard once again.
If any of you all have any experience with this beast, I'm all ears.
-All ears and nothing in between.
Alrighty then.. I've got some other stuff on deck, but no time to get into it, so we'll part ways and check it out next time around.
As always, we hope you all had a rip-roaring weekend, and can grin and bear it until we get to do the whole thing over again.
When it comes to organization, I'm a train wreck. There must be some way to maintain one's life in a more manageable fashion, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.
Among all of the aspects of dysfunction and chaos that is my existence, keeping a handle on the veritable goldmine that are the daily submissions from readers is at the top of the list, and since Monday, that goldmine has yielded a vein of previously unprecedented proportions..
So a few cases in point-
Our pal Kevin who helps us out over on Guys Who Cut Their Own Hair, (that is when hes not publishing Cog Magazine, and being a daddy-to-be) works eight hours a day for Breakaway Bicycle Couriers out in Milwaukee and was recently featured on a news segment that warmed even the coldest and most darkened corners of my heart.
And yes, in light of Wayne's recent head injury, I already read Kevin the riot act about Eric not wearing a helmet, which he assured me has since been rectified.
Then I get one from Jon, full of complements, and reminders that no matter how I try, I'll never be as cool as The Hoff;
"Looks David Hasselhoff can pull off, but you can't.
Hoff in a Speedo and leather jacket is a little obvious, my fav is The Hoff "monkeying" around on the rope swing. By the way, I didn't post regarding your evaluation but suffice to say that your work is witty without pretentiousness, usually makes me laugh out loud, and also goes deeper to shine a light onto the fact that these are just bikes. Family, friends, bicycles, and booze brother. Keep on keepin' on.
Jon"
Truth be told, I'm reasonable certain that I can rock the 70's drug kingpin better than he can.
And youre right.
They are only bicycles...
Unless you live in Boulder.
Then there is this one from Mark.
-And I gotta tell you, this might be my very most favorite thing that I've seen on the internet since my last favorite thing I saw on the internet;
"This is a link to a pretty funny story about a broke man and his beloved drawings. It is an email between him and an electric company regarding his bill.
- Mark"
I want that exchange to be the epitaph on my headstone.
Bill also wrote in with a heads up on some night time cross action that they've been getting into;
"Mr. Stevil,
Never thanked you for the portrait (self?) you drew on my envelope. Please accept this depiction of a PBR Pinata at our local back-yard night-time cross race (around 2:30 in) as my apology and tribute.
Bill"
A night time cross race... That's good.
If one could harness the fits of inspiration that are sent to me here week after week, I swear you could power a big town.
Or a small city...
Or a huge factory that makes girl pants.
Heres one you might like to know about- Some peeps out in Ann Arbor are fixing to get their alleycat on again this year for a good cause;
All the news thats fit to print on this freak out can be found right here.
Heyho, when our boy Ken out in New York isn't busy donning Mexican wrestling masks and taking the suckers to task on the polo court, hes helping to feed the less fortunate as well;
And another in Kansas City with a mind on the same cause;
Then, even though no foods gonna be raised, heres a race coming up this weekend in my old stomping grounds of Oakland, California thats just for the ladies;
Do you like apples?
Well then, how do you like them apples?
This here is a shot of my old friend Toby on a tiny bike next to a tiny truck.
Years ago at an alleycat race, one of the checkpoints included getting a doughnut, and those doughnuts were so delicious that Toby needed to get two. As he descended, one of his two tasty treats began to disintegrate in his hand, spinning him into a well deserved panic. In a last ditch attempt to save his snack, he crashed and broke his jaw.
Hes a trooper, that Toby is.
Well over a month ago, Evan sent an email to me, which I'm just now digging out of my inbox;
"I hope all is well in the world of Stevil these days.
This past weekend was an amazing celebration of the bike, with its culmination in the Night Ride, a critical mass-style ride through the streets of Jacksonville. There were about 300-400 folks, no accidents, a few pissed off drivers and smiles all around. Good times indeed!!
Big ups to Matt from Bike Jax for organizing and putting everything together, he did a fantastic job...
peace and handlebars
evan"
Great work you guys, and I'm sorry to have lagged so badly on getting this posted. As I just emailed another individual, I'm seeming to be a tremendous flake as of late, but I understand theres a cream for that, so I should be in good shape in no time.
Here's a shot that Matt Messenger from up in Seattle sent me that I've been sitting on, waiting for just the right moment.
I think 'just the right moment' is now.
Its like a whimsical world of Unicorns and Blade Runner, and I wanna live there..
Do you all remember this handsome fellow?
It's Matt, and he is wearing a custom 'beernet' helmet made by the skilled hands of Cory, from Dank messenger bags fame.
Well Matt hooked me up with Cory, and to make a long story short, my own beernet helmet showed up to the warehouse on Thursday. It truly is a thing of beauty and I'm sure that the two of us will have a long and blurry future together. A full honeymoon ride report will be forthcoming.
Plus, you can tell how awesome it is by the distant gaze of jealous longing on the face of the cat in the background.
Apparently inspired by the photos I pulled from the musty boxes that my parents sent, Josh dug deep and found a couple of his own to send;
"A couple photos of my brother and me avoiding the bummer life in Albany NY (I live in Boulder now, and take my cycling much more seriously than I did back then), circa 1984, must have been Christmas time, because we were fired up to endure the crap weather with our new rides.
That’s me busting the fat endo on my bro’s bike. He’s popping the wheelie on my purple gt pro performer. Good times..."
Good times indeed. Eddie Fiola would be proud.
Ok, I was gonna try to keep it short, and obviously I haven't done that, so I'll just go ahead and pull the plug now.
By the way, I finally heard back from (name omitted) and she said she had to run Wednesday's post by one of her friends that she works with to make sure that it didn't seem creepy.
I'm gonna totally go find her this weekend and make her buy me cocktails and prove to her that I really am that creepy.
And like a dirty shirt, I'm in a pile on the floor.
I'll go on record to say that I bombed around Portland the other week in my McCluhan, and it's like living in a comfy, comfy sleeping bag... that happened to smell of beer and defeat..
That was just mine though. I'm sure yours wont smell that way.
Now that we've cleared that up, you should go back here.
According to the folks that took the time to email me, it would seem as though I am doing a fairly adequate job here, with the exception of the occasional misspelling, (really now- I can't be expected to be sober all of the time), grammatical errors, (to which I respond, there aint no way I don't grammaticalize stuff correct), and my ongoing issues with punctuation, which I'll try to remedy, (look, I just did one!) but probably won't get very far with, because it will only make me have to think that much harder, and type that much more, and with my two index fingers already operating at full capacity, I'm not confident that I will be able to pull it off.
Anyway, suffice it to say, I looked as happy as these guys when I got all of the nice emails;
So again, thank you for your efforts, and I really do appreciate the insight and undeserved praise.
And while the Genderanalyzer thing that The Snob wrote about on Tuesday says there's a 75% chance that the Bummer Life is written by a woman, I may not be a woman on the outside, but I am every bit a woman on the inside, and therefor was genuinely touched by the effort that all of y'all put forth.
It reminded me of a story a friend who used to tend bar at a spot in San Francisco once told me.
I happened to have a whole bunch of large framed drawings hanging in this particular bar, and one afternoon, a handful of folks were sitting around drinking and talking about the work. On a whim my friend began asking them who they thought the work might have been made by when one patron blurted out, "I dont know.. They're probably done by a messenger or something.. Whatever the case, she sure is pissed."
Anyway, shortly after I finished reading The Snob's post, I went down to the corner and protested some gays, stopped by the bar to watch some ultimate fighting, and then returned home to smack the ol' lady around a bit.
By the way, I TOLD you guys that God hated shellfish..
Alright.. another thing that was mentioned to me was that it might be a nice idea if I did five shorter posts a week rather than the standard three big ones. I'd like that idea, however that would leave me with exactly one free evening a week, and frankly, I think the sound of that sucks balls.
There is talk of me possibly moving into a bit more of a marketing position at some point, thereby freeing up days to do 'Bummer Life' stuff, and if that comes to pass, I just might end up going bananas and do two posts a day.
Aside from the emails containing the requested reviews, in the last 48 hours I've gotten about 200 other emails ranging in content from bacon (duh) to requests to advertise on The Bummer Life, which I will share with you now;
"Hello, Stevil!
My name is (ommitted) and I am working with the online marketing team of a major printing company. I'd like to sponsor your blog if I can, via text link ads. Have you ever considered leasing ad space from your blog for text links? How much would you charge for that kind of advertising? I'm looking forward to hearing back from you, Stevil.
Truly,
(name omitted)
My response;
"Hi (name omitted),
Thanks for writing. You know how they say every man has their price? Well, that's true, and mine is like.. a million dollars, unless you're hot, in which case I'd be happy to knock a bit off the top.
If you're interested, let me know.
..Or if you can get me five suits like this...
Stevil"
Surprisingly, she wrote back.
"Hey, Stevil,
I'm always up for a challenge. Should I send you a picture or would that only serve to chip off a couple hundred bucks - depending on your evaluation, of course. Never underestimate a yuppy, Stevil ; )
If I had access to five suits like that, do you suppose I'd be doing online marketing for a living? I'm no Marie Osmond, and neither is Marie Osmond.
(Name omitted)"
To which I crafted a thoughtful and genuine response, in hopes of at least getting lunch bought for me out of the deal, but she never wrote back.
Here I sit in the dank, darkness of the warehouse at 5:30 on a Tuesday night, pining away for this mystery woman who's path I fear I will never cross.
And speaking of cross, Daniel sent on a flyer for a cross series down in the burning half of the Republic of California;
I have a problem with those flyers and that is that there is a retarded amount of information on them to consume. If you're like me and you can't read and don't have any span of attention to speak of, email teamvelocity@cox.net for the specifics.
After literally plowing through years of bummer life avoidance on my own, Captain Dave wrote to me today saying that he recently woke up one morning, struck with the inspiration to contribute to our little web log. I decided that we should start him on a trial basis with a new segment that we will call "The Captains Corner", or maybe if we wanna get super cute "The Kaptains Korner".
So here we go, for the first time ever within the annals of these hallowed pages, the jackassery is about to run even deeper.
"If it made any sense, it wouldn't really be fun, now, would it?
You never get a second chance to make a first impression so, to the uninitiated, I may as well ruin my hole shot right here and now: I like to listen to Rush when I ride my bike. Not when doing laundry, not when buggering the old lady, not when studying, not when partying, but when riding my bike. Does this make sense? Probably not. Do I care? Negatory. But I must bring light to the fact that there's something about Rush, circa Fly By Night to Grace Under Pressure that seems to make a lot of sense to me when astride my steel pony. It could be Geddy's odd timbre, it could be Peart's precision, it could be the belief that Lifeson likes to get loaded and get into fist fights with cops. I don't know.
What I do know is that I like it.
I dare you to put Permanent Waves in your ears on your next ride (of whatever context) and defy me. I like it, and I think it's good for me. I think it might be good for you, too. If that album fails you, try Exit Stage Left. I've hereby joined tubing and mullets and nostalgia and a little bit of "where's anyone that can actually play around here besides Mars Volta and Battles?"
Another facet of a bike/something combo that does NOT work is bikes and hot dogs. Being a native of Chicagoland, I love me a good hot dog. Seriously folks, a Vienna All Beef hot dog done Chicago style is something of greatness. However to mix the two with a bike ride requires great intestinal fortitude.
Sitting on a riverbank watching the lovelies skate by is one thing, turning pedals into a head wind is another. The bile, or "putback" as I've deemed it, makes for the worst taste ever. The taste is so bad that only whiskey or some other strong elixir can remove it from your yap, so you stop. And then you drink too much. And then you puke. And then there's the hot dog flavor again, so you're right back where you started except now your old lady is pissed at you, too.
Ah, cycles. So many cycles."
An appropriate analogy for The Captains musings that Ive used a few times before is that it's not alot unlike staring into the mouth of God.
-Or at least staring into one of God's orifie anyway..
Anyhow, Robert's bacon ice cream aside, my mom and dad are currently in the process of relocating, and in doing so, have realized that they have amassed an obscene amount of crap. Sadly, a good portion of this crap happened to be mine, and regardless of the fact that my living situation is impossibly small, a few weeks ago they loaded all of the junk into a friends van, and dumped it into my lap at work.
With the small amount of free time I've had, I began pouring though the contents of boxes that haven't seen the light of day in 20 years.
Along the way, I found two photographs of famed Pentabike draftsman 685, on the very day that we met;
From that fateful day in 1986, we both have been on a steady decline ever since.
Well, this past weekend the good cats from The Soil Saloon pulled it off. A 30 mile adventure though the concrete jungle of San Francisco, linking up every available ribbon of single track that the city has to offer. Needles to say, I was in hiding, but it looked like a blast, and we have to offer up a huge thanks to them for getting off of their well toned asses and organizing an event that will surely go down in history.
Thanks to the lightening quick and hyper professionalism of XP Multimedia, they've even got a video of the debacle already available for your viewing pleasure;
Well played my friends, well played.
Its Wednesday and I do believe that not only did I dot every i and cross every t on todays post, but I think I even used punctuations in all of the places I was supposed to.
This is truly a red letter day in every sense of the word, and now to celebrate, I think that the 75% of me that is a woman and I are going to head home, run a bath with some scented oils, light a few candles and treat ourselves right.
But that probably wont be before we go out to punish our livers and fall down a hill in the darkness.
After only a days worth of emails concerning my previously mentioned critique, I've come to the conclusion that everything is pretty good between you and me, except for the fact that I tend not to use apostrophes, which I'm attempting to now, and that you'd like to see more videos like this;
(Just go ahead and skip it. It's almost three minutes of a kid practicing track stands in his parent's living room, while wearing his sister's pants.)
Now I know that after enjoying what little time were all allowed on the weekend, the last thing you want to do is to be put to work, but during dinner the other night, my significantly better half and I got to talking and she said something to the effect of 'why dont you ask the folks who read The Bummer Life to give you a critique?'
This got me to thinking... Ive sat before you in a virtual capacity for over two years, and while I have a pretty good idea of what you all think of the job Ive done here based on the deluge of emails I receive and the comments that are posted, but Ive also spoken with a good many of you on the phone concerning returns, warranty, shipping queries, technical questions regarding bikes and so on as well, then of course theres the rare occasion that we may have met in person. All of these interactions I suppose could be looked at as some sort of lowbrow ambassadorship for this little company we all love.
So I suppose my question is this; As an informal mouth piece for Swobo, (with an emphasis on 'mouth') Id really like to know how you all think I am I doing. In what areas, if any, have I personally exceeded expectations, and where have I fallen short? Are there some aspects that you as friends, acquaintances, valued customers, or complete strangers, could identify that could help me do a better job either here on How to Avoid The Bummer Life, or within the confines of the warehouse operation itself?
Think of me as your employee, and its your task to provide me with an annual review of sorts.
Dont worry about hurting my feelings, as I have none, and if I learned anything at all while attending art school, it was how to graciously accept constructive criticism, so let em rip either in the comments, or if you wish, directly to my email.
stevil@swobo.com
I thank you in advance for your insight, and I look forward to hearing from you.
Operators are standing by.
Now then, lets get on with the regularly scheduled nonsense, shall we?
The world is a playground for the woefully underrated Sergio Layos.
Captain Pauls whirlwind appearance has come and gone, and with it, a bunch of cans of beer as well. My man is a died-in-the-wool beer snob, or a beer aficionado rather, but it didnt prevent him from arriving on my doorstep with and 18 pack of Budweiser and a hankering for a bike ride.
We suited up and departed for points unknown, with me on my cross bike and him on his. Once deep into the woods, we drank a whole lot more beer and chatted with folks who passed by and shared their snacks with us.
Eventually we ran into Dan, who was fixing his pedal with a stick;
Later we watched Paul fix a flat, not using a stick;
Then we rode through a series of creeks;
Then we saw a mini van taking a Tyrannosaurus rex to what I assumed to be a birthday party, or maybe soccer practice;
After going home to get cleaned up we went and had cocktails and sang at a Keroke bar;
And after all of that, Paul ran away naked into the darkness screaming something about "the government knows what Im thinking!" and "Sov owes me $12.67!"
..And that was the last we saw of The Captain.
Mail bag time? Yeah... Mail bag time.
Nick writes;
"Great song.. Even better dancing."
I liked it, and I didnt like it all at the same time.
But mostly I liked it.
Hurl sent this one;
I suppose that makes sense. I mean the Pigeons are looking at each other like it does, and if theres one thing I know, its to never question the facial expressions of italian cartoon Pigeons.
Im sure you all would like the full story behind this future Pulitzer Prize winner, so all you gotta do is go here.
Then Peter writes;
"Just thought I'd drop you this sweet pic of our Tuesday evening Poachfest. Ran into the Fairfax Crowd at Joe's, they said they got chased off the mtn at R.R. grade and Hogsback. Word on the streets, or trails as it may be, is that the patrols on tuesday and wednesday are up and about on the frontside of tam especially. Easy pickins' for the man, as the rangers can camp out and watch the lights roll around on the hill.
Anyway, we opted for an undisclosed location, but lets say if you were at the Pelican Inn and just finished a Guiness, for strength of course, and wanted to get to legally get yourself up to Bobcat... We may have ridden that "the wrongway" down that trail...and it was epic.
Note: D.Griffs rockin the unicorn for 1st looser at the 30 30 finale."
Mickeys still not gotten me my jersey, but I expect itll be showing up any day now.
Anyway, no sooner did 'the ink dry' on Peters first email, do I get blasted by a second;
"I just thought I'd share this with you. Many have speculated that an alter-ego of mine is incapable of doing this (attached photo). It has been a fun back and forth with the kids, but at some point said ego was forced to respond with the following:
"There have been some speculations about the Kung Fu Cowboy's ability to kick at such great heights, as well as land upon his own two feet without massive trauma.
Well let the Kung Fu Cowboy (that's right 3rd person referral) assure you all that He can not only almost fully extend his right leg to perform the "flying carcass"(Kung Fu Cowboy's not afraid of yoga), but he can leap like an African jumping frog, and his feet almost always land beneath his Chuck Norris like torso.
Oh and for the naysayers, Kung Fu Cowboy don't use no futoshop!
Hiya,
The Only K.F.C. "
Bruce Lee was famous for his 'Cobra Style', whereas The Kung Fu Cowboy has perfected the 'Redneck Style', which generally results in a broken, bullet riddled washing machine getting dumped in your front yard.
Hey, remember a few weeks ago and I was discussing the wingnuts from Kansas who protest anything and everything somehow related to homosexuality, and that Id mentioned if God does in fact hate fags, that he in all likelihood probably hates alot of other things as well? Well, TinaB sent this bit from Laughing Squid on to us, proving that his hatred is not only limited to fags, pants, belt buckles, shellfish, paperback books, Zebras, crossbows, dynamite, Fred Sanford, bungee jumping, those prank ice cubs with flys in them, softball mitts, Slurpees, wrist rockets, flower pots, snooze buttons, bandanas, and hacky sacks, but he hates signs too.
"So there is a movement afoot. Barack Brains(dot)com
Theres a facebook group to petition to get Bad Brains to play the inauguration. Clinton had Fleetwood Mac, now its our generation's turn."
Holy mother of the little baby Jesus, I think thats the best idea Ive heard since the last really, really good idea I heard, and while were on the topic of The Bad Brains, lets check out a video of one of my favorite tunes by them.
Wouldnt you know that its 'Soul Craft'?
Im a day late and a dollar short on this next one from (Pento) Graham;
"I know it's cross season and all but, this thing is insane... "Now after 5 years, we are up to 105 miles and 14,600 ft of climbing."
I got about 4,ooo feet of climbing under my belt on Saturday, and I still feel like napping.
The burning question here is though- Why does that clown have a fanny on the front of his left leg?
Barry writes regarding 'a couple for Friday', which of course are now going to be 'a couple for Monday'.
I immediately wondered if before the mail person delivers that days post, if they ever feel inclined to don a rubber glove.
Say, did you know that Urban Velo Number 10 is about to hit newsstands? Its true, but you can get a virtual peek here.
Its Monday, and were all here together again. Again Id like to thank anyone in advance for helping me along in my review, unless you say mean stuff, but once I dry my tears, I know it will only lend to my serving you better, and at the end of the day, isnt that really all Im here for?
Now get cracking.. those doughnuts arent going to make themselves.
Ive posted this trailer once before, but good grief Gnarly Brown, its such a mind scrambler, I figgered I should do it again.
Get comfy and prepare yourself for SCRAPPER.
I figure the best way to get through it, is to just do it.
I expect Nikes lawyers to be calling any minute, but before we get to the cease and desist orders, why not get an eye full of a city wide session, San Francisco style?
Speaking of Nike for a second though, die hard Celine Dion fan the LFOAB sent a link to his little slice of the interweb detailing a recent encounter at the land of swoosh ® that you can find here.
Its slightly reminiscent of a story I read about a bunch of skaters going to the Nike campus to have a session in the late 90s, just after Nikes launch of their first skate shoes (the advertising campaign for which was something along the lines of 'the skatepark is where you find it') then getting rushed and forcefully removed from the premises.
Never let it be said that Nikes not down with any cause thats going to make them money.
Just as long as it doesnt happen on their property.
Before we get in too deep though, take note of this flyer for an upcoming throw down in Birmingham that Alan from Brocycle sent us?
Now then, lets get to the mail- Starting back on the 7th, Maggie writes;
"Timely and full of Unicorn goodness.....
check out the mythical beasts link too.
Happy friday
Maggie"
I used to think that Ravens were my spirit animal, but now I know it is in fact a Unicorn.
Later on the 7th I got this from Dylan;
"Subject: This little gem made it past my spam filter"
(Please note, this is only a piece of the entire image that Dylan sent to me, but it was basically a puzzle of various sized Gifs that I simply didnt care to reconstruct, and secondarily, as astonishing as it seemed, the Can Grips website was just a blank white page, indicating only one thing- That they got this guy to design it for them.
Now, being the crackerjack journalist that I am, I couldnt let an advertisement for basically what is the drunks equivalent of mitten leashes go without further investigation.)
Without much effort, I found this article , in which the author immediately questions the coozies validity, and indicates that the Can Grip is currently challenging its relevance in the world of drinking, to which I scream out at the top of my lungs "LIES!" and "MIKE POMRANZ IS A TOTAL WANKER!" and "WILL SOMEONE LOAN ME A COUPLE OF DOLLARS FOR A CUP OF COFFEE?", though that final statement really doesnt have anything to do with anything.
Anyway, thanks for the submission Dylan. I think The Can Grip is stupid, and I hope that their back stock sits on the shelves and gets dusty.
The later on in the day, Patrick wrote in;
"Subject: Create your own fu man chu
This link is for guys like me who need a chia person to grow a stache or beard or dirtlip."
Though I laugh at such websites due to my awesome lookingness with a moustache, I understand its importance to poor folks out there who arent so follicly blessed as I.
Then a totally different Dylan wrote in with a totally different topic;
"Dear Swobo and HTATBL,
Just wanted to say that my Otis has proven to be the most fun bike I've ever owned. It's also comfortable, stealth, and incredibly versatile. Since I picked up the Otis, I've talked two more friends into buying the bike, and another into a Folsom. I'm gushing with Swobo-love.
And I continue to enjoy HTATBL. The blog has quite a following amongst my cohorts, and consistently provides both laughs and groans. So thanks, and keep up the awesome work. It seems like you all have your heads and hearts in the right place.
Dylan"
If by 'in the right place', you mean way up our asses, then you are absolutely right my friend, and thank you for the kind words.
The following day on the 8th, Michael the G wrote in with a big old pile of this and that;
"Whattup Stevil!
The attached pic is of the Right Honorable "Cal E. Vera" Pack I had made by the cats mentioned below. They have done some shit I reckon you will get a kick out of.
Specifically:
The Obama messenger. Note, this is a one-off custom bag that was given as a prize for an Alley Cat in DC.
Yeah, The cats at Seagull can throw some stitches. If you like the work maybe you can pimp 'em a little bit.
Thanks for keepin' it Bummer free.
Michael the G"
Ive referred alot of people to Seagull lately. Im not one for shoes, or suits, or the sort of items folks typically hoard, but when it comes to bags, Ive got what some might construe as a serious problem.
And yes Michael, I like that bag of yours a whole lot.
Then ANOTHER guy named Patrick emailed us on the 8th. If I didnt know better, Id say that there were just three people emailing over and over again. Anyway, he writes;
"Hey there HOBOPHOBE,
Whilst on vacation few years ago, I came across a little know hole known as "SHLIT MEA SHMANDERSON'S'", and out front of this eating establishment, I saw the biggest A-hole father anyone could ever know.
Not an ass in the traditional sense, he was very polite to others, kind and courteous.
Never disrespected any family members or patrons of the restaurant.
But something about this guy made me want to beat his ass, can't see why.
Thot you'd enjoy this rare shot of my boy smiling.
Patbastard"
Nice work. Split pea soup strained through Pats ass sounds delicious.
Now, I like politics as much as the next guy. Maybe a little bit more actually, but it looks like I really missed the boat this past November 4th in Colorado;
Then again on the 10th an individual named Jesse wrote in, but I suspect it was probably Patrick, Michael, or Dylan again;
"Stevil,
Long time reader first time submitter. Just thought I'd share how my friends and me (thank you for the grammar advice last week) avoided the bummer life last weekend at the 24 Hours of Chamberlin Ranch race on the Central Coast. First up here's Pancho taking the mandatory pre-lap pull from the Bushmills bottle.
Next we have a shot of the Le Mans, front wheel off, start.
Being the the day after Halloween, Dia De Los Muertos, we had an obligatory severed head with good safety sense.
Shenanigans proceeded to unfold after dark with beer lunges.
I was able to complete just three grueling laps on my "Retodded" Blackcat for my 5 man team before the race was cut short to due to rain making the course unrideable.
Never the less we continued bummer life avoidance after a few hours of rest with some pancakes embedded with tasty bacon.
-Jesse"
Youve done us proud here Jesse, what with your flagrant disregard for responsibility and acting as a respectable grown up should, and all.
Also, youre welcome for the grammar lesson, but you got it wrong anyway...
So the rule is this; "How my friends and me avoided the bummer life"- If you were to take 'my friends' out of the sentence, then would you say "How me avoided the bummer life", or how "I avoided the bummer life"?
"Jesse took an awesome picture of The Skipper and I at the mall"
-"Jessee took an awesome picture of I at the mall?"
No, "Jesse took an awesome picture of The Skipper and me at the mall" because if we were to take 'The Skipper' out of the sentence, "Jesse took an awesome picture of me at the mall"..
Somewhere my mom is smiling smugly, though regardless of all of this, I realize I generally neglect any sort of punctuation, plus, as pointed out yesterday by GRUPS, I cant spell my way out of a wet sack, so what difference does my opinion make anyway?
Its simply another one of the ugly sides of my half baked OCD coming out to play.
Nicholas wrote in I think on the 10th or maybe it was the 11th;
"I personally thought GWAR would be a better choice for the position, but O must know something bout Danzig that I dont.
Like that he actually is NOT a big fat pussy."
Sure Danzigs a goofball. Everybody knows that, but you know after walking a mile in Gaahls shoes this past weekend, I think hes the father figure Ive been looking for this whole time. Has anybody been reading The Bummer Life long enough to recall when I first requested a photo of Danzig mowing his lawn?
Well that seemingly innocent request literally opened the flood gates for two years of Danzig related fodder, but after all of the laughter and the tears, I get one simple email from Jon that makes everything make sense;
Danzig is dead, long live Gaahl.
The local bartenders, and bar tendresses that are The Soil Saloon have their most challenging urban boobery yet, coming up this weekend. A 30 mile jaunt through every slice of single track that San Francisco has to offer. You can be sure there will be some bum camps and moustache parks involved for your photo ops, so dont forget to bring a camera.
And maybe a Hazmat suit.
Thats going to be awesome, and I cant wait to see what other parts of the country this inspires to promote similar events.
before I go any further, Id like to mention that while I was in Portland, again someone referred to us as hipsters. Now in the traditional sense, I dont mind that so much- Hip-ster (noun)
A person, esp. during the 1950s, characterized by a particularly strong sense of alienation from most established social activities and relationships.
Ok, I can dig that, but as far as the contemporary definition goes, I dont think that fits us so very well. Again I added all of our ages up and concluded that collectively were 247 years old, making the average age of a Swobo employee to be 41 years old. Is it even possible, by todays definition, to be a 41 year old hipster?
Anyway, our Homie MaLora Ann up there in Seattle is a busy girl, and has put the finishing touches on the 2009 'Lovely ladies on Beautiful Bicycles' calendar.
To keep the gals looking proper, Swobo proudly donated a womens jersey for each months model, and though it probably shouldnt need to be said, these sold out pretty quick last year, so get in line to get yourself one today.
Its not free, but it sure beats the hell out of the UPS calendar that is, any day.
I suppose while were on point, I should also mention that Andy from Fyxomatosis sent a whole new installment of really very lovely images through that are so good Ill link them here, here and here.
Welp, I got a call on Wednesday from none other than Captain Pete, who will be gracing me with a visit this weekend.
As you can probably guess from the photo, theres not a whole lot of dull moments when The Captains around, so its safe to assume that the bummer life isnt gonna stand a chance.
Man, Chevil one weekend and The Captain the next. I dont know what I did so wrong to deserve all of this.
Have a good weekend and well continue shaking out the proverbial sheets next week.
Its all been said before. Portland does everything better than everybody else, and after the last 72 hours Ive spent there, I cant really disagree.
In fact, the city seems to have evolved into a sort of bicycle, punk rock, pretty girl, good coffee, comfort food, beer based Utopia..
I once saw a pie chart in an old issue of Big Brother magazine, in which they graphed the percentages of what people in Portland did, which was drink, do drugs, and commit suicide. They also mentioned that due to the consistent low ceiling of clouds, they always felt as if they had to duck any time they walked outside for fear of bumping their heads.
Now I didnt experience all that much drinking, drugging or suiciding while I was away... Well suiciding anyway, but I did have the clear sensation that the tip of my head was constantly rubbing along the ceiling, which at least in our particular circle means its time to ride skinny tired bikes in the mud, all the while attempting to prevent our hearts from running, screaming out of our mouths.
Before I get too far ahead of myself however, I should begin at the beginning, and since I seem to frequently find myself here in front of you all attempting to make some sense out of what for all intent and purposes has been in other reports and is in this one as well, a booze fueled run away train wreck of Caligulan proportions, Ill just suffice it to say that I now have mud where my blood should be, and a pint of beer sitting where my liver once was.
Oh yeah, and I dont guess I need to mention that this all means that I rolled lazily off of the wagon this weekend and hit the ground at about 120 miles per hour.
In light of all of this, Ill simply post some photos along with brief captions, and let the brain trust that is the Bummer Life audience fill in the blanks.
Brothers from other mothers, Chevil Kinevil and The Captain spent a fair share of time baby sitting me;
Same pants, same socks, different shoes, same problem.
Then we went to a strip club, ate a steak and plastered some stickers;
Ultimately we wound up at The Captains house, where I promptly passed out with the Darth Vader mask on.
Waking up the next day, we found that the rain had again begun to fall, and with barely a synapse firing in my head, I followed my guardians to find food, and ultimately to rally with the rest of the group.
A condition of this years event was that we had to all meet at the Chris King world headquarters where we then made our way into Forrest Park to engage in the off road time trial, where terra firma was displaced, and for some, skin was left behind;
The standard array of karmic retribution that has been my race season thus far stood tall and proud as my brand new Shimano free wheel completely gave up the ghost at my start, leaving me spinning wildly, but going nowhere. I finally squirted some water on it, and loosened up at least one of the pawls, allowing me to reach the top of the accent in good time, but then forcing me to coast the entire twisty, turny, wet and rooty descent. When the time came to pedal again, I had nothing, so I shouldered my bike and ran the remainder of the course. Fortunately the powers that be took pity on my situation and placed my name on the list of qualifiers anyway.
Another group of forgiving souls that I was riding with also looked deep within the kindness of their black hearts and towed me out to civilization where Kyle hooked me up with a new freewheel at The Fat Tire Farm.
Eventually we made our way to a party at the Vanilla compound where I was immediately lambasted for a lackluster high five.
Seeking retribution, I lit the offenders hands up with such force that they had to recant their criticism.
While inside I saw this;
When I turned around, I saw this; (Also, it should be noted that at this point in the evening, not only were my eyes seeing things a bit blurry, but apparently my camera was as well.)
Then, when I turned to the right, I saw this;
Everything youve heard about Sasha Whites bikes and the operating room sterility of his operation is true and is really a sight to behold, but Ill be damned if I saw even a single pair of $75.00 rubber boots.
When I turned around again, I was confronted by Stan Beaver and some Canadians;
Getting dizzy with all of the turning around and whatnot, I excused myself to get some fresh air, where I was attacked by the picture of unprofessionalism that is Nat Ross;
After berating him in front of a crowd of puzzled onlookers for his absolute lack of pride in this sport that has given him so much, we decided to grab Colin and The Beav and head over to The Miss Delta to get our fill of some collard greens, chicken fried streak and other Southern favorites, but not before losing Nat at a thrift store, and then fruitlessly attempting to guide him in via cell phone for over an hour. Not only does he give cyclocross a bad name, but hes crappy at taking directions as well.
Again we broke off in different directions to rest weary heads and prepare for the next days battle.
Waking up even more exhausted then I was when I went to bed, I knew that the race was going to be the fight of my lifetime, so as I always do before a big race, I spent the better part of the morning sitting inside of my Pyramid of Power ® and rolling around the house on my yoga ball, except for a short trip to get food, where I eventually found my spirit graffiti;
As we arrived to the venue, there was madness in every direction.
Friendly faces roamed among the crowd as proven by a not so chance meeting with Kevin and Scott Ramsey from Vanilla;
As usual I looked on in awe at the pro mens race as they made what I would eventually find to be excruciatingly difficult, look fairly easy.
Of course, being the consummate pro that I am, (take a note, Nat) I came wearing my Sundays best, which not surprisingly was completely lost on the masses.
I was NOT dressed as Gene Simmons, or any other member of KISS, as most casual on lookers tended to assume, but rather Gaahl, of the Norwegian Black Metal super group Gorgoroth. (Photo graciously loaned from Brujo.)
If you care to commit the time, and I recommend you do, to get the full sordid story behind this character, as well as the specifics of my costume, allow me to refer you to Vice TVs unbelievable documentary called 'True Norwegian Black Metal'. Also, take note that what would appear to be the end of part five, is in fact, not.
Now once youve made it through that, youll need to read this.
Really, I dont suppose that it should come as any surprise that my costume would need an hours worth of back story to make sense.
Then again, I was riding so fast the entire time (except for when I was lying on the ground, wishing for a swift death) that aside from my inverted cross necklace made of chicken bones, the final detail of my costume would most likely have been lost on the casual observer;
Though just as far as the understanding of pure evil goes, these kids knew where I was coming from;
Anyway, back to the action for a second. Arguably one of the highlights of the course was the bubble machine that was churning out the foam just the other side of four barriers;
However, know that if I was in charge, I most definitely would have upped the carnage factor by throwing a double barrier somewhere within the wall of foam.
Suffice it to say, fun was had by all, and I look forward with great anticipation to next years race, and with it, the appearance of a whole new slew of dirtbags from around the states. I doubt any of us have truly lived until weve witnessed Loudass trudging through mud thats the consistency of hitch grease mixed with peanut butter.
And to that end, if I show up next year, I might even bring along a freewheel thats not broken.
You know.. Just for kicks.
Of course we cant wrap the post up without offering the goods for the mens and womens winners;
Congratulations to Sue Butler and Drew MacKenzie on making your marks on history.. or at least leaving some kind of marks somewhere..
I want to wish a hearty thanks to The Captain for flowing me a whole bunch of new Evil gear, as well as a wide array of unbelievably kick ass Ironclad gloves, the Ironclad Flickr site for the use of photos, the Ironclad team doctors for wiping away my tears, and patching up my wounds, and ace photog David Anderson for his sharp eye as well.
As it turns out, I was too busy getting my ass absolutely handed to me to get any good photos..
Speaking of which, a link was sent to me in the 11th hour of this post containing some really beautiful shots that you might like to stop here to spend some time with.
Id also like to extend a heartfelt thanks to the visionaries behind this event. Regardless of the fact that they forbid me from wearing my hairnet, while allowing CD to do just that.
But then again, Im me, and CD is CD, so when you are a legend such as he, I suppose that seas will part and rules will tend to be bent before him.
Anyhow, even with all of this being said, and as much as it pains me to say it, if you werent there, you have no idea what you missed.
As per the usual, upon my return, my inbox was jam packed with reports of similar tom foolery, so let todays post stew for a piece, and well all meet up in a few days, and turn over the rest of it.
Rest assured, Ill have much more on Wednesday, but for the time being, if you like, you can get an eye full at the place where I stole this photo from which is here.
Throwing it all on the wall and seeing what sticks.
For our special Friday edition on Thursday, I now present a collection of items from the top secret Bummer Life H.Q. that will either be introduced or followed up with as few words as possible.. Think of it as a conversation during which Im holding my breath.
Cause I am.
This is a video shot by Brad, and though hes seems to be having fun in it, I sincerely doubt that even these kind of antics would go over very well in Boulder where they take racing very seriously.
Regarding my rant last February, again I apologize if I hurt any feelings, but at this stage in the game, I feel fairly well vindicated.
My commute is still radder than yours;
Dirt jumpers use ingenuity;
Gene stopped by the warehouse on Thursday;
Prefacing this video of Steve Guttenberg that The Snob sent me, he writes;
"I can only assume that video is some kind of viral marketing thing and that the Gute has a sense of humor about himself. That or he's utterly insane."
Once you have starred in the 'Police Academy' movies, youve got a long way to fall.
I do what I can, when I can, and in whatever capacity I can to make life better.
Georges pal Z has the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows;
"After closing down Road 34, Mexi and I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and our sleeping bags and did a little "urban camping" at the CSU oval. After a few shots, I fell asleep around 5am alone and woke up around 9am surrounded by 70,000 people.
Who knew that out of all of those people, I'd get to shake hands and speak with the future President?
It sure is interesting living in a swing state, let alone a swing county!
GoBama,
You Betcha'.
PS. Mexi never slept, he just kept on that bourbon until speech time.
Crazy kid...
Zness"
Thats the happy part of the story, but as with life, you cant have the good without the bad;
"Hey all,
Some things in life are a lot different than what you might see in a Looney Tunes cartoon. For example: You can't dive head first into wet concrete and swim around like it's a swimming pool.
Another life lesson learned the hard way. Just like I like 'em!!!
Zness
On the upside, I got to shower with a beautiful nurse yesterday. (The downside being she was grinding a bristle brush all over my open wounds...)"
My mans like a walking Yin and Yang.
On the outset of this next story, one might think Z had been spending a bit of time in Switzerland.
Did you know the Fempire was about to strike back? Its true. They are.
Theres some Eels gonna be racing in Hartford at well. I mean 'as weel.'
Remember, the fine print states its "a gentlemans race, in the no-marshals, and its-not-sanctioned sense. Women are strongly encouraged to race."
And one from Newt;
"Steve
Here’s a lil documentary of how I spent my Oct 2nd-5th managing Etnies GvR- A 4 day skateboard shitstorm.
Rock On
Newt"
I vote for switch.
Then Tim graced us with some Bukowski;
"Hey I thought you guys and gals would like this...
the big ride
all right,
some day you'll see me in a plastic
helmet, long stockings,
double-lens goggles;
I'll be tooling along on my 10-
speed bike on the promenade,
my face will be as intense
as a canteloupe and
in my knapsack
there could be a
bible, along with the
liverwurst sandwich and
the red red
apple.
off to one side the
sea will break and
break
and I will
pump along-a
well-lived
man,
lived a little, per
haps, beyond his
sensibilities: too
much hair in the
ears, and face
badly shaven;
there, my lips
never again to
kiss a
virgin; I gulp in
the salty air
while being
unsure of the
time
but almost sure
of the place.
all right, gliding
along
girding up for the
casket,
the sun like a
yellow glove to
grab me
I pass a group of
young ones
sitting in their
convertible.
"Jesus Christ," I hear
a voice, "do you
know who that
was?"
was?
was?
why, you little
fart bells!
you bits of
bunny droppings!
I kick it
into high, I
rise over a
hill
into a patch
of fog,
my legs
pump and
the
sea
breaks.
charles bukowski"
He also once said " Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead."
Cheers to that.
El Corpo send me stuff like this;
"Subject: I stopped by the Sears photo booth this morning as well"
..And this;
"Subject: getting one"
Id like to mention and offer thanks to Andy from Fixed Gear London for the use of his photo for this weeks header shot.
Tons and tons of the good stuff can and should be found on his Flickr page.
Finally, the coveted Friday Hero position is for the first time in history presented to an individual for the second time.
"I can't believe I'm the first to send this to you, but I feel it's my duty to pass it on just in case."
I cant believe it either, but then again, the video is only a few days old, though let it be known from this day forward, unicorns are out, and Red Fang is in.
Thanks for sending that, and rest assured, I promptly forwarded it on to a slew of folks that could use it.
Its hard to maintain sobriety knowing that those guys are out there fighting the good fight on their own.
You know.. I didnt exactly fall off of the wagon on Saturday, but my leg did hang off the side and I dragged a toe on the ground when I drank a pint with lunch.
It was delicious.
Ben gave us a shout and let us know his weekends ride went down just about as rad as mine did;
"I had a peach of a ride this weekend. As you know Saturday was pretty damn wet here in the bay. I tried to wait for the rain to stop but couldn’t. My Jake would not shut up! “This is what I’m made for” it said, “pussy” is what it called me. I don’t know about you but I don’t let nothing talk that way to me, not shots, not bacon and sure as hell not bikes!
About two seconds into the ride my chamois was pushing water out of my shorts like a bilge pump on the Titanic. I hung in there until my wheels hit dirt, made some good loose turns and headed home. Picked up a thorn that didn’t think air in my rear tire was important (thanks). As I’m searching for the saboteur of this less than perfect ride, I realize that my last speed patch is not what I expected it to be. Its not important what was in the speed patch case, nor is it important that I didn’t have fire, a piece or sufficient coverage to make use of the illicit stowaway.
I began to walk, in the rain, pushing a quiet bike.
I specifically remember getting passed by some Dude on a Cannondale while I was flat. Keep in mind I’m trudging through mud on the side of the trail, pushing my ride and wearing my tube bandolier style. I emerged from the trail to see Jackass loading his bike onto his X5 and driving away. I should have known better than to expect any help from someone who thinks a Cannondale is a “sweet ride”, not to mention the BMW.
I kept walking.
Jesus saved me. He was in a Ford F-150, white. He leaned his head as far across the bench seat as he could and said in broken English, “I know the flat”. I wanted to ask him if he knew the “soaked to the bone, just wanna shower and drink a beer” but I figured he did. Dudes name really was Jesus and he really did save me. His empathy toward my two wheel mishap was exactly what I needed to restore my faith in humanity.
PS: To the guy on the Cannondale. Next time we meet, I’m gonna set your Country Music Award on fire."
That was as much of a roller coaster ride as they come, thereby proving once and for all that Cannondale is truly the ride of champions.
Dan stuffed a note in the mail bag to give us a quick heads up about how his Halloween went;
"Year 6 spending Halloween in New Orleans for the wife and I.
Thought you would dig knowing that the cab that showed up to take us to the French Quarter Halloween night was New Orleans Cab #666.
I got a pic, but I left my camera in New Orleans. It's coming back cuz it was found, and the wife is going back in a few weeks, so I'll email it when I get it.
-dan"
Never leave your digital camera anywhere. God knows what kind of shots will end up on it, but just so were clear, Id like to take a look at them anyway.
Oh yeah, and my mom wouldnt forgive me if I didnt point out that its actually "my wife and me." She busted my balls on that rule for my entire life, so I guess that I could return the favor to others.
Halloween around these parts was not too much to write home about. I hid from the children, and laid on the floor, putting the finishing touches on my costume for this coming weekend.
I literally beat the crap out of myself for missing this last year, and I have sworn not to make the same mistake twice.
Lesson learned.
Besides, Halloween tends to steer me down a road that I aint too keen on traveling.
Case in point- this email from Kurtz;
"Hope Halloween went well for you. I hosted that scavenger hunt/costumed bicycle race that that was a lot of fun.
Then I had way too much to drink. Enough to spend the night in Jail (spend 10 hours, pay $ 120, and it's all over).
In my French Sailor Mime costume, complete with makeup.
I'm sure there's a lesson in all of this.
- kurtz "
Im sure there is, and in another five or ten years that lesson might begin to make sense.
...Ill bet he was a smash in the cell block...
Photographic evidence from this past weekends Homie Fall Fest is beginning to trickle in, but the following shot from Rich could arguably be the most important of them all;
"3:35:09am – If you go deep into the urban woods, stay up real late, and are real quiet, you’ll see come wild shit come out.
The flash startled them and they scurried/stumbled away before I could shoot another – or gather any physical evidence, (luckily).
Believe me, this photo ain’t been retouched.
– Rich"
Id probably be shocked if it wasnt a scene Ive seen played out so many times before.
CFO (Cody Fu*king Oats, remember) gave us a shout to let us know about just how seriously they take racing in Boulder;
"Chris Greasfuck put on a real doozy this weekend....Sunday was actually a sick course, but there was a cadge between the run-up and a climb that constituted the "beer garden". No hyjinx to speak of, except for the Mafia Racing dudes who had super secret PBR's, a killer 4-square tourney and a par-tay at the Rocky Flats Lounge Mini Phinney wasn't allowed to go to.
CFO"
As I mentioned somewhere in the comments, the caged beer garden runs an eerily paralleled line to George Bush's "Free Speech Zones"® that were erected a safe distance from wherever he was publicly spewing his drivel.
'You can do what you want, as long as its by my rules, and confined away from the upstanding citizens.'
Hey did you all notice that theres little bars with little symbols on all of the How to Avoid the Bummer Life entries now? If you click on them, they allow you to do stuff. What specifically, Im not entirely sure though. I know if you click on them and wish to have super powers and x-ray vision and a race car and a million dollars and a house with a fireman pole and a waterslide, and BMX jumps in the backyard that they dont really do anything, but Jay the super web guy put them there so theyve got to do something kinda cool.
Heres another email from Nick, once again proving that the Bummer Life audience has got my back;
"When i voted today I had one choice for Sheriff. So I worte you in. One guy running isn't so fair..."
As I replied to Nick, Its good folks like him that will ensure that I will win something, somewhere, someday. I can just feel it in my bones.
No sooner do I say I might win something someday does the UPS man darken my door carrying a box from The Hive containing a set of my very own single speed Chub Hubs.
It was too kind of the folks from The Hive to bestow these upon me, and I look forward to beating the holy hell out of them. I know Ive mentioned it before, but I always kinda wished that they came with a toy surprise inside of them, but chances are not very good that Id ever get in there to retrieve it anyhow.
Anyhow, they look sweet, and weird and light and like they just might be the missing ingredient from my long postponed and imminent break out race season.
As always, Ill keep you posted.
Up next we have two clips that will most assuredly make you poo right outta your own mouth;
Here we have Ruben Alcantara, and Sean Burns;
Sooooooo sick.
I think I should reiterate that I will be absent on Friday and you probably shouldnt expect a post on Monday either, as I will be busy having more fun than humanly possible with the likes of Captain Dave, Stan Beaver, and whatever stripper happens to be within ear shot.
Rest assured, Ill be back with stories that will make your eyes weep tears of virgin blood, and battle scars to prove them all to be true.
Well, Its Wednesday today, and I cant let the sun set on this post without mentioning the fact that Barack Obama is the new president of the United States of America and for that, at this point anyway, Im extraordinarily glad.
If you need me, Ill be in the woods, tipping one back in celebration.
So folks must just think Im whistling Dixie here when I say such things such as that 'Ill crap a rainbow for a unicorn.'
Im no fibber, and when I stopped by Manifesto Bicycles on Saturday to fetch my paintings, Sam presented me with an item of such magnificence, that I dropped a spectacularly colored deuce right then and there.
A unicorn stencil?
Im gonna be bombing like crazy with this thing.
Riding was a bit of a bust over the weekend. Friendly Paul and I had made tentative plans for him to throw on his $75.00 boots and come meet me for a spin, but the weather was so unrelenting that we called it until a later date. Of course Sunday saw a big cross throw down in San Francisco, but driving there would have kind of contradicted my 'Ill only do the races I can ride to' rule, so I just did a local mash with the kids, and that suited me just fine.
Shortly after I snapped this shot however, I got swarmed by one of the angriest group of Yellow Jackets Ive ever had the displeasure to encounter. I initially made it away with only one sting, but they ended up with possession of my bike, and that just wasnt going to do, so I put my head down and charged, snapping up my bike and putting every cross skill I have to the test as I bounded along off the camber single track, while hop-scotching through a mine field of slippery and potentially deadly wet roots. Finally, well away from the hive I remounted, getting a couple more stings. Again, I dismounted, running up a hill and returning to the fire road, where I glanced down and saw at least 15 of those little bastards clinging onto my shorts.
Thank God for the awesomeness of Ben Davis cut offs.
I swatted all of them away, and as I was nearing my compatriots, I got another sting under my back pack. Laughing maniacally as I rode past my friends, jettisoning anything that wasnt attached to my person, thereby ridding myself of any final hiding places, I was able to finally come to a rest and take inventory of the damage that they had exacted.
Yellow Jackets-5 (or 6 or 7 or maybe 8..), me-0, and however many I killed as I rode swatting, and flailing my arms like an epileptic speed freak..
I cut my losses and returned home to pound some Benadryl, as Yafro, Devon, and Demonika pedaled away into the damp Redwoods.
Now, back to $75.00 boots for a second. Id like to mention that I wore my BOSS boots out on Saturday, and low and behold, not only are those are American made as well, but only cost $17.00.
Another Homie Fall Fest has come and gone and in my absence, my heart ached like crazy. I did the smart thing and unplugged my telephone, but did the dumb thing and forgot to turn my generally neglected and stored-in-a-drawer cell phone off which went off like an air raid siren at 4:00 on Sunday morning.
It was GenO calling to tell me that "(he) just made it out by the hair of his chinny chin chin, that hed taken three pictures and promptly lost his camera, that B-Rad and Karna were somewhere spooning by a fire, and that his vest and jumpsuit were intact."
Im not surprised by any of that, and all we can do is wait for someone to forward on photographic evidence of the train wreck that was.
Until that time however, I suppose we could all review what happened last year, or even if you wish, the year before.. I suspect that it probably kinda went down like that.
Lucky for all of us though, I was leaked a single spy photo before anyone else;
Here Gene and Hurl are wondering where it all went wrong.
On a whim I was checking flights on Friday afternoon, but I couldnt find nothin' for under five bills.
Plus I gotta save what little scratch I have. The drugs arent gonna buy themselves..
After the recent windfall of race flyers that have been posted, a trickle of reports has begun to creep in, the first being from Dave;
"Hey All,
I just wanted to drop you a note and let you know that my Mission Path Race alleycross last Saturday the 25th was a roaring success. Thirty-three racers finished and everybody had a really good time. The guy who had the best time is and old school courier by the name of Grey Wedeking. First Woman was world champion bike messenger Sarah Torgrimson. Of note is that the first four finishers were on track bikes and that none of them did the checkpoints in what seemed to be in the obvious order. Fast is Fast! The afterparty was also a success with a healthy crowd in attendance to enjoy free beer and snacks and see the awards ceremony. Grey was super stoked to learn that he had won a free frame from Mission Bicycles and everybody won something thanks to your generosity. Some of the fastest and best bike handlers in San Francisco are out there repping your brand right now, thanks a ton!
If you have a moment to check out some photos on Flickr my friend Kacey worked a beautiful checkpoint and took some nice pics as did the boys from Box Dog Bikes.
With this success under my belt I think I may throw a couple more races this year. The first is the Sunset Path Race, an annual affair that I've done twice before on a very small scale. I'm looking at a sunday in January as a race date for that one and would very much appreciate your support.
Best Wishes,
Dave Vetrano"
Im glad that it was a success, but in all honesty, I dont remember if I sent anything to them.
My mind is an absolute blank slate.
All I remember for certain is that I lost their flyer.
Anyway, good job Box Dog, good job Rickshaw, and good jobs Sarah and Gary...
I mean Grey.
Hey, lookat the Novak that Becker recently put together for Sooni.
He stripped it, and had it repainted, and before he got the chance to put the badges back onto it, I took it and shot a photo.
To get a bike like that is almost enough to make me want to be Beckers girlfriend for a little while..
Well, the long and the short of it from this end is that Im covered with increasingly swelling stings, and the antihistamines are making my brain not work so very good, so its probably best that I sign off so as to not subject you to any more of the drivel.
