Random Thoughts on Good (and Not So Good) Bike Stuff

- Mad props to Giant. They are replacing my aluminum OCR frame that I broke, probably in the process of riding myself down from 315 to about 255 pounds. Yup, they covered it under warranty.

- Mad props also to Fi-Zik. My 11 month-old Arione saddle broke in half a few weeks ago on a group ride, right where the long nose goes into the wider part of the saddle. I thought it was related to the lard@ss problem mentioned above, but it turns out the first couple batches of Ariones had that problem. So they covered it under warranty, and I have a brand new Arione on my TCR, cost-free. Suuuu-weeeeet.

- Speaking of Fi-Zik - that Arione is an extremely comfortable saddle, in spite of looking like a novel way of inflicting wedgies on bullied high school freshmen in P.E. class. Here's their latest - a 150 gram version of the Arione with carbon fiber base and rails, the same "wing flex" serrations that give the other Ariones and the off-road Arione, the Gobi, their flex; along with a thin gel cover. After trying other Balzac torture devices, I'm blown away by how good Fi-Zik's products are (and how well they back them up) and I'm betting this new seat sets standards, the same way the original Arione did.



- Serfas. I'm getting to like this company. They make a great training tire, the Serfas Seca. It runs about $24, it has zero rolling resistance, and it lasts several thousand miles under my large butt, generally puncture free. It's "two tone" - it has a thick kevlar belted strip down the middle, which lasts forever, and reasonably sticky sidewalls. It doesn't weigh much either; I believe the one I weighed at the LBS came in at around 175 grams. I've raced on mine, and although I wouldn't recommend using them in the rain or on a course with high speed, tight off-camber turns, they are good in all other race conditions, including at Greenbelt. A wrench at a local shop tells me that they have a Seca Comp version for racers under development, which they are still tweaking but which shows great promise so far. If it's like the current Seca - cheap, durable, punches above its weight in sporting performance - it will be a hell of a tire. Serfas also makes nice carbon bottle cages too, at the same or lesser price point than most other carbon cages.

- Ultegra 10 v. Dura Ace 10 - Other than the brakes, I can't for the life of me tell the difference between these two gruppos. I rode Jonathan's TCR Comp for a week or so prior to buying my TCR Comp - his is Dura Ace, mine is Ultegra. I could not tell a difference between the two, and in fact the front derailer seems sounder in the Ultegra version. It might be just me and my touch, or lack thereof... but the two gruppos on otherwise identical bikes felt exactly the same. Of course the Ultegra lacks the bling factor, but a race bike or a training bike is a tool, not a jewel. Full disclosure: Jonathan's TCR is a Healthnet Replica, which may or may not have had some special tweaks. Taking that into account, there is even more reason the Dura Ace kit on his bike should have felt better than my Ultegra. It didn't, not to my philistine hands, anyhow.

- If you've got large legs - fat, trackie muscles, whatever - you simply can't find a seat wedge narrow enough to keep from ripping the inner thighs out of your shorts. Having decent form, with knees that come close to grazing the top tube on the downside of your pedal stroke, doesn't help. It wouldn't matter, if decent bibs cost less than $80. If anybody has any tips here, me and my fat legged friends are all ears.

- Anybody know anything about Sugoi bib shorts? I've had a recommendation that I try them. Comments so far are (1) they feel funny at first, they have a unique fabric; and, (2) they are very comfortable and durable, at a low pricepoint.

Comin' Like a Freight Train...

Hey all you wannabes. Sunday is the NCVC Ed Sander 'Cross race at Buckeystown, MD. I have a 22 tooth rear cog for this one, so I'll be able to ride up at least a few hills without tearing quad muscles and going VO2Max, and I'm bringing a big@ss burlap bag full of hurt with me. I'll be handing out generous helpings of it to anybody who tries to get between me, and a 50th place finish. So bring your hurt bucket if you plan on finishing somewhere between 49th, and 63rd (DFL). Because I'm bringing the pain, people. I'm bringing the pain.*

*Sure, some people would say I'm aiming low in my sh1t talking, and that this little spiel isn't that impressive. But this is Sh1tTalk Lite^TM, with 85% of the satisfaction, and 53% less pissin' people off. I had to go on a sh1t talk diet for a while, since I was so completely full of sh1t for pretty much the entire roadrace season. Some of my teammates told me I needed to cut back a bit, it was making me pretty bloated. So this is what you get. I think Sh1t Talk Lite is okay, but it sort of reminds me of aspartame. That stuff kind of tastes like sugar... but you don't get the satisfying aftertaste from it, and afterwards there's no evidence you ever used it.

I could always try modesty, but that stuff is awful, it's the saccharine of the sporting communications world. It tastes horrible in your mouth, it's not satisfying at all, it has a bad aftertaste, and nobody in their right mind shows up to see somebody using it, except for the kind of people who would use their power to ban things like cigars in steakhouses and trans-fats in tasty foods. You want to be good? Cool with me. Just don't tell me to be good, or try to make me stop talking crap, or gambling with my health, my money, or on my front tire making it through that off-camber turn without pitching me into the ground. Frankly, I don't want to live in a world staffed with people like that. I believe in ante-ing up, doubling down, floating down the river, and all those other poker metaphors for life*. And even though I'm old and fat and slow, I ain't dead, and can still rock it old school style. Providing they let me swap out a house salad for the fries, don't need the calories and grease at my age.

So all you bastards who are going to be off the back on Sunday at Lilypons, watch out. 'Cuz I'm bringing it, beotches.



*Key poker-derived rule for living: Never get in a fist, knife, gun, poolcue, baseball bat or sledghammer fight with a guy whose first name is a compound noun combining a christian name, and a place name. See, e.g., Texas Joe, Kentucky Pete, or Brooklyn Tony. Take my word on it, it's a good rule to live by. Trivia bonus points for anybody who can explain the sledgehammer fight reference in comments.

Blogger Biersch Bash

I had a nice ride yesterday with Scott and Josh from Racing Union, Dana and Eric G from Coppi, and Greg? (Chris? Dude, sorry, can't remember... I'm going to plead alzheimers) who rides fixed and works with Scott. We did some easy laps of Hains, then up to Gordon Biersch for a beer. In a pouring rain. Nice. Too many times I get caught up in the training grind, and forget how nice it is to just ride with friends and have some fun. Anyhow, I've got some unfinished bidness with Scott, I promised some links to good stuff he's never heard of. Seems to me, it might be fun for you to see them to. So here we go.

Did you know there's a whole world view built around studying the Goat, The Pole, and the Relationship Between the Goat and the Pole? Yeah, me neither. But my ignorance doesn't detract from the magnificent brilliance that is Goatonapole.

There is a Goat. There is a Pole. The Goat is on the Pole. Goatonapole.

Weird Al Yankovic: Too White & Nerdy


The best putdown of a hockey referee ever, courtesy of Jim Shoenfeld: "You fat pig... have another donut. Have another donut!"

A Nouncement

First, welcome Chris Nystrom to the blogroll. Chris is one of the promoters of the Charm City Cross, detailed below, which kicked my @ss fairly completely. He also has a nice bike blog, though he doesn't seem to have indicated yet where the best espresso in Ellicott City is located - a key question for me. Did I mention he's a really strong B cross racer too? Well, he is.

Second, if anybody is up for an easy spin after work at Hains, followed by a brewski at Gordon Biersch, I'll be down there from 4:30 onwards with Scott and a few Coppis. Some of us will be rolling fixed so it's not the usual daily pursuit race, but anybody who is interested in a casual spin & sip is welcome, even those who suffer from an embarassing wealth of gears.

CRP for my first 'cross race

No glory here, just a lot of hard work.

Gear: 27 pound Surly Cross Check, 44:20 single speed gearing, Ritchey Crossmax tires at 70 PSI (whoops, too high), HR monitor. No water.

Competition: about 60 souls, including some MTB endurance racers who all knew each other, including one whippet of a kid who said “I’m upgrading to expert next year, but my coach said I should race cross a bit just for a workout. Yeah, he won it going away. Go figure.

The course: Mostly rolling, slightly uphill or slightly downhill. Four or 5 off-camber hairpins. Two barriers. One set of climb-able barriers. A 3 pit sand barrier, semi-rideable. One long downhill on grass. Two short uphills, one following a hairpin that ran literally into a set of barriers, aka a runup. One short uphill/flat short road section.

Sandbox? Or Lunchbox? You make the call.

First lap: The start was smooth. Road racing put me in good stead on the start, nothing to mass starting on a road hill, and drilling up it from a stop. I let a lot of guys get in front of me, thinking everybody would be way faster than my gear-limited self on their fancy dancy geared bikes. Not my first stupid mistake of the race, or the last. Off the road, into an off-camber left built up on the side of an anthill-sized sewer pipe mound. The riders in around 25th place immediately piled up, causing a stoppage. The rest of the lap went pretty smoothly once they got up and got moving. I settled into a group of about 10, placed maybe 35th to 45th, and we just kept working around.

Essential data: I was immediately thirsty and had no water. HR was pegged at 170, about 12 beats over threshold.

Second lap: More of the same. Nothing really noteworthy happened.

Essential data: while the legs held up okay, and the HR stayed pegged at about 168, the legs pretty much blew up after the hairpin/runup. I could keep up speed, and the grupetto all seemed to be having trouble, but I felt that pushing a big gear put me in desparate straits - I was gasping, my gruppeto mates weren't. There’s just no rest on a singlespeed. Not a complaint, just an observation.

Third lap: About three quarters of the way through the lap, proceeding through zig-zags across a slightly uphill/downhill field, the top women’s rider passed me. Then the second. I tried to ride up the runup after the hairpin/barriers. Baaad mistake, about ten people passed me. Lesson learned: If you think you need to run up a hill rather than ride, you really do need to run it. Running really slow is still faster than turning the cranks at one revolution per minute. Going down the long grassy downhill after that, I had pins & needles in my hands (usual when I spend 30+ minutes over lactate threshold) and my face and tongue had pins & needles too. That was new. I was also seeing spots – mild compared to a crit finish though - and it occurred to me it would be really easy to lose concentration in this state and bite it really hard on the road we crossed at the bottom of the hill. I resolved to not crash hard. On the plus side, the supportive atmosphere - fans lingering in the middle of the course, cheering, cowbells, hooting and hollering - made it a little easier to keep the effort level up. This is a little different than roadracing down empty country lanes, across empty fields.

Ken and Jean: "We're You're Number One Fans, Slow Guy.
But in a Supportive Way, Not in a Creepy Stalker Kind of Way"

Essential data: I figured out I could make up ground in the turns and downhills, but lost some on the flats. I decided to try to marshal some strength for a last lap push past some guys. HR was pegged at about 168.

Fourth lap: There may have been a fourth or fifth lap in here some place and this may have been the sixth. I couldn't say. I was pretty much unconscious at this point. So read "fourth lap" as "last lap" and you'll be on track.

I started passing some guys going into the dirt after the start/finish. One guy piled it up on the first dirt turn, where the pileup was on the first lap. One down. I passed another guy going into the curve prior to the sandbox. Two down. I felt the jersey pocket getting slimmer as I ran lower and lower on matches and decided I needed to peg it here in the twisties to make up some spots. Going into the short, sharp hairpin followed by the 7 foot sharp rise, I pegged it, squared off the corner like usual, passed a guy, and then bit it. The front wheel tucked under and I went face down over the handlebars. Mmmmmm, dirt, as Homer Simpson would say if he were me. (He wishes...) I got up and remounted as quick as I could but the damage was done, three or four guys tore past me, and although I got moving quickly, the crash burned up the last of my matches. I settled into survival mode and ground it out to the finish. I nearly barfed after the runup - we definitely had recursive chunks, Houston. The climbing barriers were unbelievably slow and painful - I stumbled up and over them on my way to the finish. After them it wasn't bad. But they were the low point of a bad lap, for sure.

B Race Winner John Brewer Shows How It's Done on the Climbing Barriers

Essential data: Nothing broken, but the next race will probably be with a 22 tooth rear cog instead of a 20. A little extra leverage would have been very helpful. Average HR for the race: 169. Daaaaaang. Final placing: 44th. I got beat by 3 women and one youth (they started a minute behind us) and I placed 44th / 59 in the Men’s C.

It was the worst ride I’ve ever been on – painful, dirty, too hot, I crashed, and I was out of breath and in minor agony the whole time. In other words, it was pretty frickin’ good, and I’m looking forward to doing more and trying to work my way up in the placings, same as road racing. The techniques are different, and it’s weird, there is no rest in a cross race… but it’s nice. It takes total focus while you race, and it’s basically 45 minutes of uninterrupted hard work. I'm not sure about the single speed thing. As Ken W put it afterwards, you can get some rest on a geared bike, but on a single speed, you get maxed out, totally pegged after about a lap and a half, and that's it. There's no rest, and you have no chance for recovery. I've decided that if I can finish on the lead lap, and 44/59 on a single, I could probably actually be somewhat competitive on a geared bike. So I have to decide whether I want to shoot for competitive, or if I want to focus on building strength and guts. Still, I suspect that even on a geared bike it is very tough. I've found very few other physical endeavors that are this demanding, and thus very few things that are this satisfying at the finish. It is satisfying when you get a good result, or even a bad one like mine, so long as it was earned and paid for with every penny of effort in my pocket. Respect is earned, honors are earned, and apparently, cross finishes are earned. Nothin wrong with that, it makes a finish worth something.

A Happy Cruddy 'Cross Finisher

Holy Enlightenment, Batman!

The Royal Society has digitized *all* of its holdings and put them on line here. We're talkin' Bacon, Newton, and lots of other brilliant folks, some of whose names don't end in "on." They may be downloaded for free until December.

After that, they will no longer be downloaded for free, and all mankind will be plunged into darkness.

Okay, that's not exactly true. I think the deal is you'll have to pay for access. So it won't be a new ice age or anything, but it'll cost you.

So get it while it's hot. And if you want a good read, check out the short bio of my fave Restoration-era personage, Samuel Pepys, and his amazing secret diary. In it, he spills more dirt than is dumped on the D-20 Listserve. BTW, it's pronounced "Peeps," unless you want to publicly advertise your ignorant swine-inity, as I did after I first discovered him...

Coppi Attacks...

Coppi Cat gets to work repeatedly killing a stuffed ducky.

Water Bottles 10: Never Mind the Bottles; Here's The Sex Pistols!

- Let's hear it for the Canadian Football League. Five downs, a 110 yard field, snow in August, and about 5 teams, two of which are nicknamed "The Roughriders." It's like the NFL for potheads.

- 5 Reasons why the Canadian Football League is better than the NFL:

5) You can relate to the players - no real future as pro athletes, underpaid, overworked, and always performing in front of a tiny audience;

4) There's nobody named "He Hate Me" in that league, just like your office. Oh, there's guys in the office that you hate, just they don't stencil "He Hate Me" on the back of their suit jacket;

3) If you don't like the football much, you can always just catch a baseball game instead, since the CFL plays in the summer;

2) the fantasy league is really small, so you can keep the office ringer, the shit talker, plus "that guy, you know, I think he's in I.T. or something, who laughs too much and has bad breath and always hits on Marie..." out of the league with the simple excuse, "there aren't enough players to go around, so we're capped at six members";

and, the number 1 reason the CFL is better than the NFL:

1) The players are unceasingly polite, even in interviews after a loss, eh.

- Random fixie lore: It takes about three days of straight riding a fixie to get used to the pedals always moving. Until then, you will stop pedaling once or twice a day, and nearly get bucked off. After three days, you get back on your geared/freewheeled bike and stop pedaling, you will absent mindedly stop pedaling and find yourself reflexively bracing yourself to get bucked off. Weird. Fixies are faster riding uphill. The easiest way to piss off a guy on a $8000 Serotta or Independent Fabrications ride is to let him pass you in the flat (not like you have a choice) then spin past him rolling 20 up the next hill on your 25 pound rusty fixed gear... and then do this for about an hour in a long series of rolling hills. I did this tonight and by the end of the rollers the dude was pedaling squares (something fixie riders can't really do) and bobbing up and down trying to get ahead of me. Accellerations - stomps - on a fixie are wicked. Instead of doing ten strokes to terminal velocity, do the ten strokes, then practice the seated spin (accellerating hard still) up to around 30 strokes. I do it with about 65 gear inches and it takes me from zero to 30 MPH, and zero to around 180 RPM in that time. You will learn to spin faster this way. It may also be easier on the knees than the typical 53:13 stomp, the transition from hard pushing to smooth (hard) spinning is brutal and leaves my leg muscles cramping. Is this what track events are like? If you are a beast you need to carry a wrench if you ride a fixie, either that or ride a bike with true track forks on the rear, and tension adjusters like Surly TuggNuts. Doing stomps this morning I pulled the sprocket side of the axle so far forward that the tire was rubbing the left chainstay. Good thing I had the socket wrench. The Surly Jethro Tool is wonderful for this but doesn't give the leverage that a 1/2" socket does. A 1/2" socket, you ask? Yes. See the above beast comment.

- Cross practice was fun today. I lunched coming around an off-camber turn on wet grass, and went face down into a concrete ditch. So much for cross having lower injury potential than roadracing. That was impressive. But not as impressive as somebody else, who ran into a street sign post...

- See you all in three or four days. I'm off camping with the family for now.

Revolutionary Coppi Training Method

People have asked me how Squadra Coppi manages to take so many middle aged dudes, and turn them into kickass 40+ racers. It's simple: we're tougher than a burlap bag full of 40 ounce hammers. How do we get that way? Well, technically, it's a secret. But I've recently unearthed some secret footage of our 40+ team's training sessions, as led by Bernard "the Rocket" del Rosario. I can only reveal it because it is in Japanese, which you don't understand. Why Japanese? We feel it gives us better feel with our Shimano componentry, which most of us ride. Check out Bernard as he puts these guys through their paces. Damn, he's tough. Team CSC and Bjarne Riis have nothing on us.

A bunch of the Cat 3s ride Campagnolo, and they conduct similar training involving Italian women hitting them over the head with a Manolo Blahnik as they eat primavera and guzzle Montepulciano di Abruzzo. They aren't as accomplished as the 40+ rock stars, but they're still dang good and the basic training method (which Carmichael-san calls "abusaki and hazingowa" works just as well for them. It's all good really. I can't wait to turn 40 and get in on the action.

Note for John: No, this is not literally accurate. Our 40+ racers do not train in Japanese.

New Riding Gear

Hey, check out my new bibs! According to Colorado Cyclist, these are 92% cooler than Assos bib shorts. I also read in the Attica Weekly that they are 75% more likely to help you land a prison husband than a carton of Marlboro Reds. The soft leather "Tourista" road shoes cost extra, however.



Hey, just so you know I'm not a total perv, that's just a picture of Sascha Baron Cohen (aka Ali G) getting in trouble with the Prime Minister of Kazakhstan. Apparently Mr. Cohen - a British/Jewish comedian who normally portrays an obviously phony Kazakh journalist, "Borat" - has offended Kazakhstan. Cohen has a film coming out in the U.S., and Da Ali G Show - based on the Borat character but also around an impossibly stupid British hip-hop character, Ali G - is featured on HBO. I like his humor - it's mean, crude, offensive, over the top, and usually revolves around making fun of others' ignorance, and their inability to recognize that he's just putting on an act. His usual schtick is to pose as a journalist and ask people ridiculous questions - "who is buried in the Washington Monument?" or "how many eggs in a dozen," things like that. It's kind of like Jay Leno's "Jaywalking" segment, on acid. Here's the most offensive, and funniest skewering of morons and inattentive dummies I've ever seen, with Borat posing as a country music artist. Yeah, some of the people in that audience clearly have crawling skin listening to his song, some other folks... not so much. And that makes my skin crawl a bit. Yeah, it's funny but scary and thought provoking. And that's Cohen's gig.

Well... evidently he's put one over on a whole country now, I'm just not sure which country it is. The Kazakhs believe that we gullible Americans think the Borat character really is Kazakh (hey, that's plausible, if you clicked on that link immediately above), and that we have a bad image of Kazakhstan as a result of Borat's humor. Therefore, when he makes his state visit in a couple weeks, the Prime Minister of Kazakhstan wants us to... I dunno. Do something about Ali G. Or Borat. Or whatever his name is.

Hey, I'm willing to go the extra mile for our staunch allies in Kazakhstan. Not only am I willing to argue that somebody needs to put a pair of sweatpants on that freakin' human wookie in the mini-bibs, but I'd go so far as to concede that he probably should get rid of the 70's porn star tribute mustache too. Heck, I'd even buy him a Bic disposable, if that would help keep our valuable allies happy.

Yeah, that's what the world is coming to. Not trade talks, not terrorism stuff, not nukes, not NATO membership... the head of a sovereign nation is going to come here to ask us to do something about a comedian he doesn't like. Kazakhstan is also going to squander money on an ad campaign to improve Kazakhstan's image. Hey, shouldn't they be squandering money on wasteful public building projects, or on padding some trade minister's Swiss bank account? I'm not sure Kazakhstan registers in the average American mind, and Ali G still hasn't burned through his 15 minutes of fame yet because even after a couple years on HBO, he isn't really all that well known either. I'm not sure a publicity campaign is going to help with Kazakhstan's image (which in reality is a non-image to most folks) or with getting Cohen to shut up. (Yeah, good luck on that one...) C'mon guys, covering Ali G up and shaving his moustache is on the table. Be smart, take the offer. It's better than what he's going to offer you.

And hey, any time anybody tells you I'm a unilateralist cowboy, I want you to point them to this blog entry and remind them, "Hey, Jim said he'd encourage people to cover up Ali G's butt... he's no unilateralist cowboy!"


Ps. If you ever see me wearing something like that, on or off the bike, just shoot me, okay? Just do it. Don't ask why, or if somebody held a gun to my head to make me do it, or if I'm having a breakdown. Just bust a cap in my @55 and be done with it.

Cyclo#%%@ Practice

Scott T. and Ryan were trying to show me some cyclocross stuff this morning at Bluemont during an informal (but regular) Wednesday AM cyclocross practice session. They mount and dismount pretty well at the barriers. Me? Well, I look like a cross between some guy with polio, a hog attempting to tap dance, and Walter Brennan in one of those westerns where some outlaw shot at his feet and told him to dance. The highlight of the morning was kind of blowing a remount, landing square on my nards, nearly falling off the bike while groaning in pain, and dropping a stream of F-bombs while a nice little old lady on the W&OD trail passed by, shooting me the Occularis Sinistro, yes, the Evil Eye.

When I told my wife about this over the dinner table, she asked if this was a common problem ("I'm told it is, dear...) and then asked a question I hadn't considered. "Why would anybody race cyclocross if this is common?"

"Hell if I know, honey. Hell if I know."

My first 'cross race is in ten days. See some of you there.

. . .

9/11/01

And every day since.

X-Treem Sports Equipment: Robotic Frisbees of Death

Don't look now, but the Department of D-Fence is paying defense contractor Triton to develop "disc winged unmanned aerial vehicles" (i.e. powered frisbees) capable of carrying weaponry and conducting reconaissance. These new UAVs will be used against Al Qaida and other targets. Gosh, I wish I was joking, but it's for real. It got me to thinking, if DOD can make use of Robotic Frisbees of Death, what other types of sports equipment can it adapt to military use? Some ideas:

- The Golf Balls of Doom: for many years, golf has been a quiet passion of the military. Anybody who has spent time in the military knows, no post is complete without a couple of golf courses, and some retired military men have jumped straight onto the Senior Tour. Why, Fort Meyers alone, in heavily developed Northern Virginia where real estate is precious and a postage stamp-sized plot can sell for a million dollars, has three 18 hole courses on the premises.When not killing murderous terro... er, defending the nation, our brave men and women love nothing more than to tee 'em up, to hit a few, then drink a brew. Why not take advantage of all the time these brave men and women spend in golf training? The weapons will be deployed using a standard set of Titleist clubs along with a "Big Bertha" driver and a beer koozy, a laser rangefinder, a selection of tees, and a "19th Hole Service Support Vehicle," a golf cart well-stocked with properly chilled fermented malt beverages driven by a nubile high school girl. When the soldier or marine hits the ball, it will be armed, and when the ball rolls to a stop, it will explode. The Army anticipates training soldiers in four new Military Occupational Specialties - 72L, Longball Hitter, for long range operations; 150S, Shotmaker, for mid-range "operational" demolition, 10P, putter, for close in operations like urban combat and house-to-house warfare, and 0069H, Hacker, meant strictly as a last ditch final defensive fire weapon, as such soldiers will scatter the exploding armaments left, right, center, and sometimes behind their own position. This should be just the ticket for taking out Taliban strongholds in the mountains of Afghanistan. Just make sure you leave the rounds on range when you come back to CONUS, kids, and watch out for the sand traps in Iraq - I hear they can be a real scorecard breaker! Now, Fore!

- Monkey Motored Mountain Bikes of Murder: DOD is looking into building monky-driven, solar-powered motorized mountain bikes, which will each tow a small 105mm Pack Artillery piece. The monkeys will be trained to hit the fire button upon approaching enemy positions, and upon the occurrence of the urge to (1) pick fleas off a fellow 'soldier's' back; (2) fling poo; (3) pleasure itself in public. There will also be a larger, gorilla-operated version built around the single speed Gary Fischer paragon, towing an eight inch gun - the Twenty Niner of Terror.

- The Snowboard of Slaughter: the military is proud of its ability to take kids from different generations, and mold them into tough, determined, effective fighting men and women. While the weapons may change, the final product of boot camp is equally effective, whether it's firing a gatling gun at wayward Moros, sticking the Hun with a bayonet, using a flamethrower on Tojo's boys, or fighting a "video game war" from a satelite control room. Up until now, however, it wasn't clear how "Generation Z" could be harnessed to keep the caissons rolling along. Fortunately, a crack team from the Army's 1st Ranger Battalion at Ft. Lewis, Washington, noticed that snowboarders could be used to deadly effect. By simply deploying snowboarders in an area populated by the enemy, enemy effectiveness is degraded by 63%. The enemy becomes lethargic, usually suffers from a bad case of the giggles, and is often encountered by our troops mid-meal. Post-capture effects include hard bitten enemy soldiers willing to talk to our interrogators for just a few Doritos, other enemy fighters who keep screaming about getting the spiders off their legs, and still other enemy fighters who speak a strange, nearly incomprehensible patois comprised mostly of words such as "dude," "sweet," "whooooaaaa," and "like." Military officials are unsure how snowboarders achieve this level of combat effectiveness, and are worried about their ability to recruit sufficient Southern California surfer dudes to act as translators of this strange new language, but are nevertheless happy to employ the latest generation of America's Finest in the never-ending question to keep our country safe and preserve our way of life. According to military spokesman Major Lance-Chad Erewhon, "Dude, you have no idea how utterly sweet this weapons system is... it totally rages!"

So, you got any ideas for sporting equipment based weapons systems? Yeah, sure, I came up with some silly things. But they aren't much sillier than Robotic Frisbees of Death.

And just in case you're a bad guy reading this, and you want to purchase some Robotic Frisbee of Death from some cut rate arms dealer from some third rate enemy of the U.S. ... don't even think about it, Schmuck, 'cuz we've got countermeasures, too.

Open Letter to Salsa

Dear Smart Guy at Salsa,

Thanks for building tough rims. I've got the Delgado Cross 32 wired up with straight 14 gauge spokes to a flip-flop Surly New Hub on my Cross Check commuter/cross ride. They helped me get out of a bad jam that would crush lesser rims. I was riding on the fixed side of the hub the other day, rolling about 25 in traffic, and had a near miss thanks to a cellphone user/driver who cut me off and then stopped, blocking the lanes in front of me. I executed something that looked like a sideways skid stop, a stoppy and a bunny hop all at once. This girl on the sidewalk saw it and screamed, not in a good way. It was incredibly violent and my back hurts from the evasive manuever. But the rims held up wonderfully, didn't warp, bend, lose true, or blow spokes, and most of all didn't collapse and make me T-bone that guy's car. This would be no big deal, just ordinary wheel performance, but I weigh 255 and bust up wheels the way Angelina Jolie busts up men. So thanks. I'm pretty high on these rims and am looking forward to seeing how they do in cross races this fall.

I have one burning question, however. Why the hell are they called "Delgados"?

Thanks so much.

Jim


[Update: I received the following answer from the responsive folks at Salsa, concerning why the rims are called "Delgados." And I quote:

Flair.

There you have it.]

Fixie Tricks #1 - Side Skid With Stoppie

Hey kids, want to learn how to do a sideways skid stop? It's pretty easy.

1) Hammer up Pennsylvania Ave toward Georgetown at rush hour on your fixed gear. Travel with the traffic at about 25 MPH.

2) Hit George Washington Circle with the engines at full steam. Move into the right lane, to exit on M Street.

3) Swerve slightly into the second to the right lane when you notice a fat bald dude in a silver car rolling slowly around the circle in the far right lane.

4) When the fat dude basically turns left 90 degrees blocking traffic in three lanes right in front of you, feel your butt pucker and lock 'em up. Don't worry about it - I don't care if you have motorcycle slicks on your bike, you'll be able to lock 'em up if you panic enough. I sure as shit did on my sticky 700x32 'cross slicks.

5) As you lock 'em up and the wheel begins to skid, lean hard to your left so you are angled parallel to the fat dude's car. Don't worry about him being on the cellphone - he's got the Sprint Friends and Family plan, so he's not being billed for peak hours. So you can relax.

6) Ignore the screaming coming from the co-ed standing on the sidewalk watching this whole thing develop. It will only distract you from the task at hand. That is figuring out how you locked up the front wheel (oh yeah, you got your hand on that one brake lever) and exactly why it is that you are now doing a stoppy, with your rear wheel a foot off the ground (because the front wheel is locked up... okay, makes sense now) and now you can really focus on the task at hand

7) Which is cursing out the fat dude in the car and threatening to beat the crap out of him.

8) If you are single, slowly tip over, then as you get up smile at the co-ed. She was kind of cute and you can probably get some sympathy affection if you play your cards right. I recommend skinning a hand rather than your leg; the palm side of the hands and the fingertips have marvelous surface blood supply and heal faster. Besides, if she's a nursing or med student, she'll want to look at your hand, she'll be holding it, and... well, you get the idea. If you aren't single, like me, just keep screaming at the fat dude in the car. Your wife/hubby/S.O. will appreciate you leaving all that emotional baggage on the road.

9) As you slowly pedal around the now mortified fat dude in the silver car and try to turn off onto M Street again, remember to get cut off by an angry dude in a Porsche SUV, who cuts you off because you nearly caused him to spill his latte when he had to brake to avoid crushing you into the side of fat guy's car.

10) Be so shook up about it as you ride home that you inadvertantly lock up the rear wheel two or three times by forgetting you are on a fixed gear, and forgetting to pedal. I recommend (as does Andy Hampsten) keeping your thumbs wrapped around the flats of the bar so when the bike bucks, as fixed gears do when you stop pedaling, you don't go over the handlebars.

11) When the adrenalin subsides and you stop shaking, resolve to look into maxing out your group life insurance at work.

And that my friends, is how you do it. I'd like to thank my friends at Salsa for making the Delgado rims, which are burly as all hell and didn't warp or bend or anything. Without them, I'd be picking silver paint out of my teeth right now. Heck, I didn't need to true them or anything after this amazing radical maneuver by my 250+ pound butt. So thanks, Salsa. And those Surly New Hubs aren't bad either...

Fine Arts

Dance, Fat Man! Dance!

Hey, don't knock it.

This one gang kept wanting him to join, 'cuz he's pretty good with a bo staff.

Griffin the Warrior

If I bit it tomorrow, burned in, croaked, nobody could say I hadn't lived a full life, even at 39 years of age. Yeah, there'd be a few sad people, but nobody could say it was a life snuffed out before I'd had my swings at bat.

Not so for kids with cancer. Everybody knows somebody who has, had, or died from cancer. Ordinarily, it strikes down people who are middle aged or older, at least in my experience. Maybe you know a child who had cancer. A friend of the family when I was growing up - well, he was 3, I was 18 and friends with the older kids - had leukemia. It was heartbreaking, but he beat it, and is now a shooting star climbing the ranks in the Marine Corps. He's got his life back, and he's making the most of it. A lot of kids in that position, they really don't get to live a full life like the rest of us. I hesitate to use the term "fair" because so many bad people use the term to describe anything thye dislike, but it seems horribly unfair that a disease can rob little kids of their lives in this manner. I wish there was more we could do, and that we could do it faster than medical science is getting it done. Cancer just robs kids of their lives, like crushing the buds of flowers before they bloom. As the father of a toddler, when I see kids with cancer I am simply staggered, and have trouble believing the awful hand they've been dealt.

This is the case with Griffin Bathras. I don't know him, not really anyhow. He suffers from Ewing's Disease, a rare form of bone cancer. He has an inoperable tumor behind his ear. Therefore, he's undergoing experimental proton radiation treatments in Boston, when he's not being treated at the Johns Hopkins medical center in Baltimore.

Griffin is 6.

Griffin "The Warrior" Bathras, Age 6

The treatments and the extended stays in Boston are putting the hurt on his family, and other family members and friends are trying to raise funds to cover their expenses, which are crushing.

I know of Griffin through a guy who frequents the Family Bikes LBS Ride, Mike Summers. Mike is a Prince Georges County cop, a nice guy and a good rider - if you think of a good-hearted, nice guy cop, Mike is that guy. He's also married to Griffin's godmother, so he's raising money to help Griffin out a bit.

Mike is riding from Annapolis, MD, to Orlando, Florida, with the goal of raising $15,000 to help out with Griffin's treatment. You can click on the link to his fundraising page on Griffin's web site to find out how to donate, or how to get in touch with Mike. Our LBS ride regulars - 15 or so of us - rode Mike out of Annapolis and down to Route 301 South, just south of Bowie this morning. His dad, a retiree, is riding support for him. (He may be more tired than Mike by the end of this trip).

Mike and His Sweet Bike

My heart breaks for Griffin, and for his family; and I'm proud to know a guy like Mike who is willing to step up to the plate for a kid like Griffin. Mike could use some donations on behalf of Griffin, or he could use some support along the way if you happen to be along the route. I believe he's in Richmond tonight, and will be proceeding south out towards the coast, then eventually down 15 through Southern North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia. So hit the link to donate some funds, contact him on the road and ride a couple hours with him to boost morale, or whatever you can do to help out. Heck, say a couple prayers too, that can't hurt.

While you're at it, why not pause for a minute to be thankful there are people out there like Mike, who can't get enough of looking out for people on his full time job, but feel compelled to look after people on their free time. Thanks Mike, you're an example for the rest of us.

Death Rides With Us

Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter," was killed today when a Stingray he was following whacked him in the chest with its tail barb, puncturing his heart and killing him. While this is very sad - and many of us, me included, will miss the foolish little man - it was fairly predictable. He was a serial animal botherer, grabbing deadly snakes like Green Mambas by the tail while narrating into the camera, swimming in crocodile-infested waters, sticking his nose into holes known to be occupied by Komodo Dragons and the like - all the while telling us not to do the same, because it was really bloody dangerous. "Steve Irwin Killed by Wild Animal" is as predictable a death headline as "Hip Hop Artist Shot, Killed After Music Awards" or "Mountaineer Dies on Everest" It's what often happens when you do that kind of thing, and if you are engaged in that lifestyle, and can't see that the Reaper walks alongside you, then you are a fool.

People often don't think about their own mortality. I spent time as a soldier, now I race bikes, and I eat at sketchy barbecue and ethnic food joints. I also drive on the Beltway regularly. It is very human to say "it can't happen to me," but by God, it happens to somebody, every damn time.

There's nothing wrong with courting danger. You should be honest with yourself and others about the risk, and take steps to manage the risk. Steve Irwin - he who held Green Mambas by the tail, was tree-ed by a Komodo Dragon, and who swam with crocs and sharks - wasn't honest about the risk. Remember a few years ago when he walked his young (infant) son into a croc tank, and it seemed like he wasn't even cognizant of the danger? That's denial, folks. Learn to recognize it and avoid it.

In fact, I'll go one step further than saying there's nothing wrong with courting danger. Doing so with a dash of prudence is very human. Seeking to overcome risk and danger is perhaps the most noble (non-metaphysical) human endeavor, other than sacrificing yourself for another person. It is the very soul of life to be challenged, and to overcome. But we must be honest about the nature of our past times if we are going to take up the gauntlet of physical danger. It cheapens the overcoming, lessens the bravery, and makes a mockery out of the virtue of courage if we blunder into and out of danger. As they used to tell me when I wore a tree suit, there ain't no glory in being stupid.

You also owe a duty (that's a tough part of courage, you know - doing your duty) to your family and friends to know the risk, to be honest about it, and to prepare for the chance you might not make it back from the next ride, shark swim, or parachute jump. Keep your insurance paid up. Tell them you love them. Visit church once in a while and keep in The Man's good books, if you're so inclined. Live life to the absolute fullest, both on the side of doing your duty, and having fun.

But don't lie to yourself and tell yourself you are exceptional. You aren't. Although we know not the moment, we know that the reaper rides with us at all times, and while today may not be the day, tomorrow just might be. Accept it, be brave, and overcome, but like a good boy scout, be prepared. And for God's sake, don't swing Green Mambas around by the tail. That's just asking for it.