I know Hoovis is probably pleasuring himself looking at that picture, and thinking about the Pens' big win, and fantasizing about Don Cherry naked except for hockey skates and a Hawaiian shirt halter top with a big Edwardian Collar... but that's okay. It's the Stanley Cup Playoffs. It's okay to dream, Burt. Yep, my ode to Grapes is for you, buddy... enjoy it, don't be afraid to hope and pour your heart into that stupid team of yours, because you're either about to get a mind blowing high from the Pens, or the worst gottdamt feeling ever, and the two feelings are not independent of each other, if you want one you need to risk the other. Such is playoff hockey. It wouldn't be the best if it wasn't heartbreaking too.
What, you other people don't think Don Cherry is cool? Okey, fine, then how 'bout this for having the coolest job in the world:
In the distance an orange cyclist, hunched over on his bars, his rain jacket catching enough wind to make him look like a human pillow, appeared. A good cyclist can always tell if another cyclist is competent, a professional, even if he is just a spot in the distance. Although just a spot of bursting orange, we all had a hunch it was Juan Antonio Flecha. . .
As he neared our group, he spun around, peeled off his orange cape and began climbing with us. A couple of quick hellos, some chatter about the Giro and its ludicrously hard stages, and then we were back breathing deeper as the pace intensified, everybody quiet, glancing down occasionally at their power meters to see the pertinent numbers: heart rate, watts, cadence.
Once at the top, we could see Barcelona, the Mediterranean coast, Girona and to the north the high snow capped Pyrenees. George Hincapie and Flecha pulled out their cameras for the photos of the day; we zipped up our jerseys, covered up with our rain capes, ate Powerbars, drank, and then began the descent towards home. The clock read that we had been out for well over three hours; we needed to make it home in two and a half to avoid the doghouse.
For all the bullshit in pro cycling, that right there is what's cool about it. At its core, it's a bunch of guys who mostly just love riding their bikes, getting together to ride their bikes. Just like us, except they totally don't suck. "Hincapie and Flecha pulled out their cameras for the photos of the day; we zipped up our jerseys, covered up with our rain capes, ate Powerbars, drank, and then began the descent towards home." I'll be damned if that's not the coolest thing I will read all week. There's more at the Velo News diary of Michael Barry.
Comments about the CSC Classic from Friend of the Rouleur Brian, who rode the Pro race: "I loved riding with Magnus... he's a monster." "The race wasn't bad. Until the last laps, then...[head shake]."
Comments about racing crits in the U.S. from Roger Hammond, who tasted some fine, fine North Arlington Tarmac before chasing back on, and competing in the bunch sprint - alongside 60 riders that he and the 12 man break had just lapped - 'cuz in crits, a break can re-join the pack and everybody sprints:
It was strange racing really," he said. "It was ok until 30 laps toI think it's safe to say that Healthnet/Maxxis, Colavita and the other hot US-based teams with a strong crit focus won't be hiring Hammond as a Director Sportivo when he retires from racing. His comments remind me of Chef, on SouthPark. "It don't make no sense, chirrets." Except Chef usually made sense.
go when we lapped the peloton, and it should have been race over, but
I don't understand the rules over here. We work hard to separate the
guys from their teams, like Colavita who has half the peloton here.
"So we attack until there are only two of them left but we lap the
field and then they have eight riders again," he added. "So if I come
back next year I'll just sit in and do nothing, because it makes no
difference!"
Comments from a fast cat on Coppi who chatted with CSC director Lars Michaelson about the trials and tribulations of bringing Euro Pros to the U.S. to race crits:
He agreed that it really was a different race from what those guys were used to. He said, with hand motions, "They either take to it like little fishes, or they drown." And he went from waving his hand with side to side fin motions to palm flat.Nice. I hope the fast cat forgives me for lifting that quote from him. It's too good to keep secret.
Final thing - since everybody is doing them lately, I'm going to give you a quiz. Match up the Unholy Rouleur Phrase with the Unholy Rouleur Ride Experience on the new and improved Capital Crescent Trail, with its 15 MPH speed limit that is going to make us all safe.
PHRASE
A. Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. JEEEEEBUS. EXCUUUUUUSSSEEEE MEEEEE!B. Holy f***in' shit, lady! CRIPES!
C. What the f***? I mean, what the f***in' f***?
RIDE EXPERIENCE
1. A cute Golden Labrador puppy (off the leash) belonging to a cute 20-something jogger cuts directly in front of my front wheel, nearly causing a major crash and getting itself killed, while the jogger giggles.
2. A cute 20-something jogger with the situational awareness of a Golden Lab pup, looks me right in the eye and steps off the side of the trail where she was stretching, *directly* into my path, causing me to take emergency evasive maneuvers and nearly take out an older couple walking in the oncoming lane.
3. Four middle aged ladies, none of them deaf as far as I could tell, were walking down the trail four abreast, and refusing to give me a passing lane, so I hopped into the gravel/grass fringe and pedaled past them, and bunny hopped back onto the path, offering my good-natured opinion about their chosen mode of travel as I passed.
Answers: A - 3; B - 2; C - 1
And just in case you were wondering I was going under 15 MPH at all times, and these three little dangerous events - okay the one was just rude, not dangerous - occurred in a 5 minute period of time on the upper CCT, the one that is now speed limited, "for our safety."
It just goes to show you, speed doesn't kill, but stupidity is a self-deploying Weapon of Mass Destruction. Can't wait to see what else gets dreamed up to save us dangerous cyclists from our own bad selves.
17 comments:
Mate... Maaaaate...
You need to give a bloke a spot of warning. That jacket kicked my visual cortex like a big Red boomer! I'll be having flashbacks and PTSD for days...
Being a computer geek, and not an attorney, I'm not as articulate as you. I'd handle all three bike-path encounters with "Oi!" shouted at the top of my voice.
Uncle Bob, I may chop logic for a living now, but I used to be a Teamster. As in Jimmy Hoffa, Legitimate Eye-Tallyan Bizinessmen, and so forth, not to mention a stint in the Army as a sergeant, where I studied under some of the finest F-artillerymen in the world.
Thus I'm capable of using the F-bomb as a noun, transitive and intransitive verb, adjective, personal pronoun, participial, direct and indirect object, preposition, proposition, conjunction and conjunction, in the past, present, and future tenses, nominative, objective and subjunctive cases. I find I have some trouble with certain variations of the F-bomb in the pluperfect tense, but I assure you, I am working on it.
Yes, a simple "Oi!" would have worked. But it is a point of pride to me, to have the perfect F-bomb for every occasion.
Who shot Don Cherry's sofa?
I think they prefer to be called "Chesterfields," Sean.
That guy's wardrobe is so pimp it's unbelievable. All he needs is the sweet Huggy Bear fedora with the big feather. Any maybe a grill.
Grandma's Sofaskin Jacket, Perfectly coiffed haute couture facial hair, Uber-Thin Wristwatch, Pensive Scowl. This guy's got it goin on. Seriously.
I'm considering designing a run of cycling kit just like it. Who's with me so I can get a volume discount?
Thank Goodness for Don Cherry! Any time one of my Canadian colleagues works him/herself up into a smug, passive-aggressive, anti-US lather, I just have to drop the Cherry Bomb to remind them they are, in fact, imperfect humans like everyone else.
Like I said before - I won't even go near the Capital Crescent. The trail users up there verily seethe with hatred. They have confrontations because they seek confrontations. What about living in Bethesda/Chevy Chase makes them into such selfish, bitter, nagging, Nanny-Staters?
Er, other than that, if it's blowing 50, and sleeting, and all other MUT-users are inside writing angry letters to the Montgomery County Council, it's a GREAT way to get to Rock Creek Park for a spin!
W&OD isn't much better.
But, yes, ditto on the Bethesda/Chevy Chase crowd.
Jim, if Safwan didn't give you a case of PTSD, the Cap Crescent surely will.
Sean - agreed. I avoid the CCT like the plague because I have the luxury of being able to avoid it like the plague. You won't hear me carrying water for Custis/W&OD users in a debate about the relative merits of Washington area MUT users.
I suppose the skinny trail, numerous at-grade crossings, and particularly vocal cranks make the distilled CCT vitriol a particularly pure, high proof variety.
Based on the bumper stickers, the typical Bethesda-ite feels pretty dang strongly about saving the earth. Too bad driving an 16 MPG vintage Volvo wagon or a hybrid Yukon plastered with bumper stickers about Gaia doesn't git 'er done, because if it did, we'd all be crappin' in the tall grass by now. I shouldn't sell folks on that end of town short. I'm sure they mean well, and teh caring is what counts, right? Just don't ask anybody to actually ride a bike for utility purposes (except at the gym), to construct walk-able or ride-able communities, or to slow down their morally superior hybrid Yukon at the at-grade crossings. Because they're okay with sacrifice, but hey, they already gave, alright?
Sean - I'm cool with people who want to kill me, as long as they're straight-up about it. It's the passive aggressive SOB's that drive me around the bend.
Now - Jim Comments - with 62% more Ranty Goodness
Jim, I have coworkers that feel better about themselves for knowing a guy (me) that rides his bike to work.
The funny part is that they all think I'm sick. "John are you ok? you look thin. Is that on purpose?" I'm not completely sure what that means.
Jim-
Re: Hammond and crit rules. Maybe he should have asked his teammate Greg Henderson about lapping the field -- he's no stranger to the U.S. circuit. Whether or not to lap is just another part of the tactics, just like the decision to get away in the first place.
John P. - When I got back to DC after a stint in Colorado, my friends here asked me if I'd been sick. That's how I knew I was in good shape.
-R
It's a sad commentary on a society when skinny equates to sick rather than "burger-free".
But by that sad benchmark I'm as healthy as hell, pouring on 25 pounds since the end of track season. Apparently flipping the pages of a physics textbook isn't quite the same calorific burn as a motorpaced session at the velodrome.
I've got Center Ice, and me and the old lady watch Hockey Night in Canada most Saturdays in the winter.
She thinks Don is good looking. I shit you not.
Thanks,
Burt
Yeah Mike, you're healthy. But I hear the Australian cows, sheep, and some of the kangaroos are sick with worry.
Hoovis - are you shitting me? She thinks Cherry is hot? That seems like pretty unusual taste. I guess it sort of explains her being married to you though.
Jim
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