WARNING: Do not see Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights. It was the worst 70 minutes of my life.
Hey, he’s sick and he needs help
For those of you unaware, Rick Daniel competed in and won the Iron Man class at the 2002 edition of the 24 Hours of Glen Helen this summer. Although I’ve never competed in a 24-hour event solo, I used to let Rick talk me into doing all kinds of other weird motorcycle-related stuff. Since then, I got married and gained an additional brain so I’m a lot smarter now. In fact, I’m even capable of manipulating people into riding up Blue Mountain one night a week. Rick is one of those people. I know what you’re thinking. This Rick guy sounds like he’s a lot tougher than he is smart. Well, Dirt Bike Magazine did label him as the “Toughest Man Alive,” but he also has enough smarts to have written Diary of a Madman for DirtBikeMagazine.com. Personally, I think Rick’s girlfriend/crew chief/head chef/inspirational guru Dodie Webster composed the masterpiece, but Rick insists he wrote it and that Diary of a Madman’s Girlfriend will be in stores early next year. Anyway, have a read.
QUOTE
“I remember that game of Quarters but for the life of me, I can't remember where we were at. I think you had the smoothest moves.”
-Luke’s return email on trying to help me remember the mystery location and participants of the game of Quarters in question. That must have been one hell of a game of Quarters.
Speaking of quotes
Possibly inspired by the uplifting and inspirational Mario Cipollini quote from my last posting, Trevor broke out his Quotable Cyclist book and sent me over a few more quotes.
"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it if you live."
-Mark Twain "Taming the Bicycle"
"I thought of that while riding my bike."
-Albert Einstein on the theory of relativity
"When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the
human race."
-H.G. Wells
An Email from Luke
“ . . . We took the 78 back which cuts right through Glamis. I have never seen so many white trash dumb asses in my life. They just thrashed the entire place. Beer cans, garbage...you name it, it was there. I guess the new thing is to cut the tops off of golf carts, put paddles on them and supe the engines up. I saw about 10 of those on the way home. Well regardless, there were a lot of trailers on the road packed to the gill with Glamis paraphernalia. That is certainly a different crowd from the days of Lucerne and Barstow.”
-Luke, describing a portion of his Thanksgiving Road Trip from his mom’s house in Arizona to his house in San Diego.
An Email from Mom
Matt,
I need your Christmas list.
Love,
Mom
Dec 3, 2002
Nov 27, 2002
QUOTE
“The bicycle has a soul. If you are able to love it as it deserves, it will give you emotions you will never forget.” – World Champion Italian cyclist, Mario Cipollini from December 2002 issue of Bicycling magazine.
Lucas Stiles wrote in:
1. What was Jacko’s most recent terrible mistake?
Hanging his six-month old son out a two-story window in Germany.
2. What was Lisa Marie Presley’s most terrible mistake?
Getting married to Jacko and kissing him on MTV.
3. Who said, “I’ve never had a problem with drugs. I’ve had problems with the police?” (A) Robert Downey, Jr. (B) Keith Richards (C) Shane MacGowan (D) Gary Busey.
Every one knows it’s (B), Keith Richards.
I think the only Internet pages I enjoy more than yours are Union Tribune and ESPN. Oh, and Google.
-Luke
We Have a Winner
The walking freak show that is Michael Jackson got everyone responding to my most recent contest and many of you responded correctly, however Lucas wins the new Goat sunglasses (courtesy of Goat Eyewear) because he complimented the website, although I have to question his passion for the San Diego Union Tribune because I’m quite familiar with the ramblings of Sports Editors Jerry Magee, Alan Drooz, Nick Canepa and Tim Sullivan and I’m not overly impressed with their editorial integrity. Of course, I’m assuming that Luke is speaking of the Tribune’s Sports department. Maybe he likes reading Anne Marie Welsh, the Union Tribune Theatre Arts Critic. Ouch! (That's for the Google comment.)
Actually, Luke was the first person to answer all three questions correctly. Even though Rick Daniel’s foul answer was most creative, I have to stick to the rules. “When do I get my loot?” Rick says. As soon as I get my custom Rickey Racer steel bicycle frame, buster!
Go to Goat Eyewear and see what Luke has to choose from.
All this talk of Michael Jackson reminds me of a particular game of Quarters I once had (I can’t remember with who. Let me know if you were in on this particular game of Quarters. I think Mark Martinez was there). Someone made the rule that after every drink, you had to stand up, sing a verse from a Jacko song and do a three-sixty, while side kicking up your heel (just like Jacko himself). You can only imagine the hilarity that ensued from this rule. That may have been the same game of Quarters Brandon Coatney ruled that all communication be made in an English accent. What bloody fun!
The Essential M's
It was called to my attention recently that my postings weigh heavily on bicycle stuff and lack a lot of other important subjects in life such as the Four Essential M's; Motorcycles, Music, Marathons and Mark (Foist). So, here it goes:
Mark: Mark left me a message requesting the time back in his life that it took him to search through the website, only to find zero mentions of his name (how vain). Actually, if Mark would have searched longer, he would have read that a few months ago I acknowledged the kickoff of his mid-life crisis, better known as his 40th birthday. Just an update - since kickoff Mark went to game seven of the World Series, purchased a Cooper Mini, ran the St. George Marathon in Utah and participated in the Hana Relay in Maui, although I'm not sure if he has ridden his bicycle lately. There Mark, an entire paragraph dedicated to you.
Marathons: In September Denise ran a 4:27 in the Maui Marathon (beating Oprah’s Chicago Marathon time). My sister Meredith and Natalie Hughes also ran the Maui Marathon and finished respectfully, although I don’t know their exact finish times. My Mom and Dad flew to Hawaii a week early, vacationed and helped out with the marathon. Now Denise has it in her crazy head that she’s going to run, the L.A. or Austin, TX Marathon early next year.
Motorcycles: Read about me and see pictures!
(How vain.)
In other motorcycle related news:
Dude, Mondays suck. Some b#%@*! ran a red light and hit me this morning. Fortunately she barely grazed my front tire and I didn't even drop the bike. Had I been a half-second quicker I don't even want to imagine the consequences... Now the KLR has twisted forks and needs a wheel truing, and of course she has no insurance. My uninsured motorist coverage on the bike is for medical only. My ride home tonight will be interesting...
-Trevor
Luckily Trevor wasn’t injured. Get this; the uninsured woman that hit him is new in town from Louisiana, the U.S. capital of Voodoo. Great. Just what we need, a bunch of uninsured Louisiana witches driving all over SoCal roadways practicing their Voodoo in the form of running red lights. I asked Trevor if she was driving a broomstick and he said, “No, she was driving a Hyundai.”
Music: Everyone’s favorite blue-collar band, Dropkick Murphys, known for their blend of old-school punk, Irish Folk, rock and hardcore sounds recently released a T-shirt that reads, “Support Your Local Piper.” I want one for Christmas (hint, hint). Mark Allen was the local bagpiper on Oakdale St. The way his bagpipes echoed through the neighborhood was so cool that I stopped whatever I was doing to listen until he was done playing. Most neighborhoods in Rialto had the sounds of gunshots and domestic disputes. On Oakdale we had bagpipes (and a few domestic disputes).
A Note From Nathan
Hey, I saw a bumper sticker today that said, "Let's play Cowboys and Iraqui's." Thought that was kind of funny.
-Nate
Okay, I'm done. Santa Ana River Trail on Thanksgiving morning at 7 a.m. if anyone is interested. Meet at the Ranger Station on the corner of Highway 38 and Bryant.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Freemanrace@aol.com
“The bicycle has a soul. If you are able to love it as it deserves, it will give you emotions you will never forget.” – World Champion Italian cyclist, Mario Cipollini from December 2002 issue of Bicycling magazine.
Lucas Stiles wrote in:
1. What was Jacko’s most recent terrible mistake?
Hanging his six-month old son out a two-story window in Germany.
2. What was Lisa Marie Presley’s most terrible mistake?
Getting married to Jacko and kissing him on MTV.
3. Who said, “I’ve never had a problem with drugs. I’ve had problems with the police?” (A) Robert Downey, Jr. (B) Keith Richards (C) Shane MacGowan (D) Gary Busey.
Every one knows it’s (B), Keith Richards.
I think the only Internet pages I enjoy more than yours are Union Tribune and ESPN. Oh, and Google.
-Luke
We Have a Winner
The walking freak show that is Michael Jackson got everyone responding to my most recent contest and many of you responded correctly, however Lucas wins the new Goat sunglasses (courtesy of Goat Eyewear) because he complimented the website, although I have to question his passion for the San Diego Union Tribune because I’m quite familiar with the ramblings of Sports Editors Jerry Magee, Alan Drooz, Nick Canepa and Tim Sullivan and I’m not overly impressed with their editorial integrity. Of course, I’m assuming that Luke is speaking of the Tribune’s Sports department. Maybe he likes reading Anne Marie Welsh, the Union Tribune Theatre Arts Critic. Ouch! (That's for the Google comment.)
Actually, Luke was the first person to answer all three questions correctly. Even though Rick Daniel’s foul answer was most creative, I have to stick to the rules. “When do I get my loot?” Rick says. As soon as I get my custom Rickey Racer steel bicycle frame, buster!
Go to Goat Eyewear and see what Luke has to choose from.
All this talk of Michael Jackson reminds me of a particular game of Quarters I once had (I can’t remember with who. Let me know if you were in on this particular game of Quarters. I think Mark Martinez was there). Someone made the rule that after every drink, you had to stand up, sing a verse from a Jacko song and do a three-sixty, while side kicking up your heel (just like Jacko himself). You can only imagine the hilarity that ensued from this rule. That may have been the same game of Quarters Brandon Coatney ruled that all communication be made in an English accent. What bloody fun!
The Essential M's
It was called to my attention recently that my postings weigh heavily on bicycle stuff and lack a lot of other important subjects in life such as the Four Essential M's; Motorcycles, Music, Marathons and Mark (Foist). So, here it goes:
Mark: Mark left me a message requesting the time back in his life that it took him to search through the website, only to find zero mentions of his name (how vain). Actually, if Mark would have searched longer, he would have read that a few months ago I acknowledged the kickoff of his mid-life crisis, better known as his 40th birthday. Just an update - since kickoff Mark went to game seven of the World Series, purchased a Cooper Mini, ran the St. George Marathon in Utah and participated in the Hana Relay in Maui, although I'm not sure if he has ridden his bicycle lately. There Mark, an entire paragraph dedicated to you.
Marathons: In September Denise ran a 4:27 in the Maui Marathon (beating Oprah’s Chicago Marathon time). My sister Meredith and Natalie Hughes also ran the Maui Marathon and finished respectfully, although I don’t know their exact finish times. My Mom and Dad flew to Hawaii a week early, vacationed and helped out with the marathon. Now Denise has it in her crazy head that she’s going to run, the L.A. or Austin, TX Marathon early next year.
Motorcycles: Read about me and see pictures!
(How vain.)
In other motorcycle related news:
Dude, Mondays suck. Some b#%@*! ran a red light and hit me this morning. Fortunately she barely grazed my front tire and I didn't even drop the bike. Had I been a half-second quicker I don't even want to imagine the consequences... Now the KLR has twisted forks and needs a wheel truing, and of course she has no insurance. My uninsured motorist coverage on the bike is for medical only. My ride home tonight will be interesting...
-Trevor
Luckily Trevor wasn’t injured. Get this; the uninsured woman that hit him is new in town from Louisiana, the U.S. capital of Voodoo. Great. Just what we need, a bunch of uninsured Louisiana witches driving all over SoCal roadways practicing their Voodoo in the form of running red lights. I asked Trevor if she was driving a broomstick and he said, “No, she was driving a Hyundai.”
Music: Everyone’s favorite blue-collar band, Dropkick Murphys, known for their blend of old-school punk, Irish Folk, rock and hardcore sounds recently released a T-shirt that reads, “Support Your Local Piper.” I want one for Christmas (hint, hint). Mark Allen was the local bagpiper on Oakdale St. The way his bagpipes echoed through the neighborhood was so cool that I stopped whatever I was doing to listen until he was done playing. Most neighborhoods in Rialto had the sounds of gunshots and domestic disputes. On Oakdale we had bagpipes (and a few domestic disputes).
A Note From Nathan
Hey, I saw a bumper sticker today that said, "Let's play Cowboys and Iraqui's." Thought that was kind of funny.
-Nate
Okay, I'm done. Santa Ana River Trail on Thanksgiving morning at 7 a.m. if anyone is interested. Meet at the Ranger Station on the corner of Highway 38 and Bryant.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Freemanrace@aol.com
Nov 20, 2002
PRAY FOR AARON
Just when you think you are really getting to know someone, they throw a curve ball at you. That's what Aaron Gerth did on Tuesday night when he showed up for our weekly ride up Alpe Bluez with an ALUMINUM bike. Not only that, said bike was a FULL -SUSPENSION Trek Fuel (with disc brakes, no doubt) that he had borrowed from Neighbor Bob. When people dangerously experiment with multiple drugs and alcohol at the same time it's called speedballing. Aaron, a self proclaimed advocate for steel, (who I thought I knew well) is speedballing with full-suspension and aluminum. Some people like me or Trevor can handle such dangerous experimentation because we're of a generation that grew up on aluminum, full-suspension and carbon fiber. Still, I prefer to ride a hardtail over a full-suspension bike 99-percent of the time. Trevor, who works in the Information Services department for the county of San Bernardino owns a palm pilot, MP3 player and can speak computer talk that is way over my head, so he could accept that fact that Aaron showed up on a state-of-the-art ride. Rick and I wept and prayed for Aaron's salvation.
QUOTE
“Maybe the devil suddenly grabbed hold of your handlebar.” - Rick’s theory of how Trevor managed a nasty get-off while descending a reasonably smooth portion of Blue Mountain. The end result was a scraped up hip. Personally, I have to argue Rick’s theory. Eminem was nowhere near Blue Mountain last night.
QUOTE
“What day is Thanksgiving on?” - Trevor, which made us wonder if in addition to his hip, maybe he had hit his head too.
CONGRATS
To Paul G., who purchased a brand new Giant road bike and has already been riding it to work. It won't be long before Paul is smoking all those other non-road bike riders that we know on the mountian bike trails.
QUOTE
“Your troubles will cease and fortune will smile upon you.” - The message in my fortune cookie from today’s lunch, which is proof positive that the Peeking Noodle Co. should stick exclusively to making noodles and leave fortune telling to women named Madam Somethingorother.
CONTEST BUST
No Meredith, the answer to my stupid question is not Animal House. Nathan Hughes came closest to answering the contest question most accurately. Nathan answered, “Is the movie PCU? He concludes with the two of them in some movie together or something like that. I guess I need to research a little more.”
I’d say Nathan got 75-percent of the contest correct by naming PCU as the movie that contained the quote and the basis of the thesis. As Americans, you should all be ashamed of yourselves for not knowing the name of the movie that serves as the conclusion for Pigman’s Caine-Hackman Thesis. The movie is A Bridge Too Far, a friggin masterpiece of cinema about the botched Operation Market Garden in World War II. Operation Market Garden followed D-Day and was the Allied forces’ attempt to take control of three bridges over the Rhine River. If the plan (masterminded by the English) succeeded it was intended to defeat the Germans and put a rapid end to the war in Europe. The operation involved twice the number of troops than D-Day, and as I mentioned before the English came up with the plan, so naturally it failed. Historians say Operation Market Garden was destine to fail because it was a complex operation that required too many men, too much equipment and was orchestrated too many miles behind enemy lines, planned to take too many bridges. Hence the name, A Bridge Too Far.
The star-studded cast of The Thin Red Line couldn’t hold a candle to the cast of 1977’s A Bridge Too Far, which included Sean Connery, Anthony Hopkins, Robert Redford, James Caan, Ryan O’Neal, Laurence Olivier, Elliot Gould, and of course, Michael Caine and Gene Hackman.
A Bridge Too Far is significant for me because, for one, it’s a bad-ass movie. Two, I remember watching it on TV with my dad one night about two decades ago and the next day my Aunt Pam gave birth to my cousin Jack. Then, a few years after that my dad and I were watching it on TV again and the next day my Aunt Pam gave birth to my cousin Sarah. For my Aunt's sake, my dad and I don't watch the movie together any more.
Anyway, do what Robert Redford does in the movie. Get in a U.S. Army-issue portable rowboat in the middle of the night and row across the Rhine River while the Germans are bombing you and say, “Hail Mary full of grace,” about 500 times and you’ll be forgiven for not being familiar with the Caine-Hackman Theory.
Congratulations Nathan! You get 75-percent of a Pro Grip jersey.
NEW CONTEST
25-percent of a Pro Grip motorcycle jersey (just like the one that Stephane Peterhansel used to wear) and a pair of brand new Goat Sunglasses, compliments of Joey Lanza, to the first person that can answer the following questions:
1. What was Jacko’s most recent terrible mistake?
2. What was Lisa Marie Presley’s most terrible mistake?
3. Who said, “I’ve never had a problem with drugs. I’ve had problems with the police?” (A) Robert Downey, Jr. (B) Keith Richards (C) Shane MacGowan (D) Gary Busey
Freemanrace@aol.com
Just when you think you are really getting to know someone, they throw a curve ball at you. That's what Aaron Gerth did on Tuesday night when he showed up for our weekly ride up Alpe Bluez with an ALUMINUM bike. Not only that, said bike was a FULL -SUSPENSION Trek Fuel (with disc brakes, no doubt) that he had borrowed from Neighbor Bob. When people dangerously experiment with multiple drugs and alcohol at the same time it's called speedballing. Aaron, a self proclaimed advocate for steel, (who I thought I knew well) is speedballing with full-suspension and aluminum. Some people like me or Trevor can handle such dangerous experimentation because we're of a generation that grew up on aluminum, full-suspension and carbon fiber. Still, I prefer to ride a hardtail over a full-suspension bike 99-percent of the time. Trevor, who works in the Information Services department for the county of San Bernardino owns a palm pilot, MP3 player and can speak computer talk that is way over my head, so he could accept that fact that Aaron showed up on a state-of-the-art ride. Rick and I wept and prayed for Aaron's salvation.
QUOTE
“Maybe the devil suddenly grabbed hold of your handlebar.” - Rick’s theory of how Trevor managed a nasty get-off while descending a reasonably smooth portion of Blue Mountain. The end result was a scraped up hip. Personally, I have to argue Rick’s theory. Eminem was nowhere near Blue Mountain last night.
QUOTE
“What day is Thanksgiving on?” - Trevor, which made us wonder if in addition to his hip, maybe he had hit his head too.
CONGRATS
To Paul G., who purchased a brand new Giant road bike and has already been riding it to work. It won't be long before Paul is smoking all those other non-road bike riders that we know on the mountian bike trails.
QUOTE
“Your troubles will cease and fortune will smile upon you.” - The message in my fortune cookie from today’s lunch, which is proof positive that the Peeking Noodle Co. should stick exclusively to making noodles and leave fortune telling to women named Madam Somethingorother.
CONTEST BUST
No Meredith, the answer to my stupid question is not Animal House. Nathan Hughes came closest to answering the contest question most accurately. Nathan answered, “Is the movie PCU? He concludes with the two of them in some movie together or something like that. I guess I need to research a little more.”
I’d say Nathan got 75-percent of the contest correct by naming PCU as the movie that contained the quote and the basis of the thesis. As Americans, you should all be ashamed of yourselves for not knowing the name of the movie that serves as the conclusion for Pigman’s Caine-Hackman Thesis. The movie is A Bridge Too Far, a friggin masterpiece of cinema about the botched Operation Market Garden in World War II. Operation Market Garden followed D-Day and was the Allied forces’ attempt to take control of three bridges over the Rhine River. If the plan (masterminded by the English) succeeded it was intended to defeat the Germans and put a rapid end to the war in Europe. The operation involved twice the number of troops than D-Day, and as I mentioned before the English came up with the plan, so naturally it failed. Historians say Operation Market Garden was destine to fail because it was a complex operation that required too many men, too much equipment and was orchestrated too many miles behind enemy lines, planned to take too many bridges. Hence the name, A Bridge Too Far.
The star-studded cast of The Thin Red Line couldn’t hold a candle to the cast of 1977’s A Bridge Too Far, which included Sean Connery, Anthony Hopkins, Robert Redford, James Caan, Ryan O’Neal, Laurence Olivier, Elliot Gould, and of course, Michael Caine and Gene Hackman.
A Bridge Too Far is significant for me because, for one, it’s a bad-ass movie. Two, I remember watching it on TV with my dad one night about two decades ago and the next day my Aunt Pam gave birth to my cousin Jack. Then, a few years after that my dad and I were watching it on TV again and the next day my Aunt Pam gave birth to my cousin Sarah. For my Aunt's sake, my dad and I don't watch the movie together any more.
Anyway, do what Robert Redford does in the movie. Get in a U.S. Army-issue portable rowboat in the middle of the night and row across the Rhine River while the Germans are bombing you and say, “Hail Mary full of grace,” about 500 times and you’ll be forgiven for not being familiar with the Caine-Hackman Theory.
Congratulations Nathan! You get 75-percent of a Pro Grip jersey.
NEW CONTEST
25-percent of a Pro Grip motorcycle jersey (just like the one that Stephane Peterhansel used to wear) and a pair of brand new Goat Sunglasses, compliments of Joey Lanza, to the first person that can answer the following questions:
1. What was Jacko’s most recent terrible mistake?
2. What was Lisa Marie Presley’s most terrible mistake?
3. Who said, “I’ve never had a problem with drugs. I’ve had problems with the police?” (A) Robert Downey, Jr. (B) Keith Richards (C) Shane MacGowan (D) Gary Busey
Freemanrace@aol.com
Nov 13, 2002
The official press release stated, “Once on top of Alpe Bluez, it can get cold so bring appropriate clothing,” but for some strange reason Rick forgot to bring a jersey, much less a vest or arm warmers. Apparently he has joined the ever-growing list of people who have set up their email accounts to reject all messages from Freemanrace@aol.com.
Rick of all people should know how cold one can get on top of Blue Mountain because he’s been to the near-freezing summit at night almost as many times as I. Anything other than a jersey, vest or arm warmers and Rick would have probably had it in his gear bag. Had I needed a solder gun or a hydraulic jack for some reason, I bet he would have dug it out in no time.
Trevor’s excuse for leaving his jersey at home probably had something to do with getting preoccupied with the amount of air pressure in his tires. A reasonable excuse since he’s the unofficial King of flatting mountain bike tires. Fortunately for Rick and Trevor, I happen to have a surplus of old bicycle and motorcycle gear and was more than willing to set them up so we could get the ride underway. Rick wore a red Pro Grip motorcycle jersey and a red Acerbis vest – making him look like a cross between Stephane Peterhansel and Giovanni Sala. Trevor opted for a red short-sleeved Manitou jersey. Aaron, on the other hand came totally prepared even though he tried to convince us that he had forgotten his cleats. He’s tried to pull that stunt on me every single time we’ve ridden Blue Mountain so this time I didn’t buy it. All kidding aside, the three of them showed up with fire in their eyes and Alpe Bluez hate in their hearts, ready and willing to conquer the mountain.
The ride started off with a detour because whoever owns Blue Mountain fenced off the Palm St. entrance to the base of the mountain. Sad, since Grand Terrace advertises itself as “The Blue Mountain City.” Our detour took us up to Honey Hill and then down Westwood into Reche Canyon, where the climb began. It’s now obvious why the fence is up because the road heading up the mountain is very loose and sandy, which probably means they’ve been driving trucks and tractors to the antenna towers that top Alpe Bluez. Other than trying extra hard to find good traction the ascent was pretty normal – long, steep and relentless. I suffered as much at the top from being cold as I did from actually climbing.
Apparently Aaron had a more amusing ride up than Rick and I did because he rode near Trevor and listened in on the one-way conversation that Trevor had with his rear tire. Every few minutes Aaron heard a tire spin out in the sand followed by, “(Insert explicative here) tires!” The King of Mtb Flats was riding his back-up bike with a narrow rear tire filled with enough air to supply an entire ecosystem. His full-suspension Marin, which is currently under construction, is Trevor’s bike of choice – not his sweet Specialized hardtail.
The real fun began at the descent into Reche Canyon, which was mired with me nearly careening out of control over a cliff and Trevor taking a soil sample. No doubt – a result of his 200 pounds of air pressure. Rick and Aaron managed to escape the downhill unscathed and if you ask either one of them why, they’re likely to give you the same answer, “Because we ride steel bikes.” Although they’ve only met twice, they share the same motto. I’d be sipping fruity drinks in some clear blue ocean if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard one of them say, “Aluminum is for recycling. Steel is for building things.”
I can’t dispute their motto because the steel frame has gotten the best of me many times and it did that night as we pace-lined down a rough Reche Canyon Rd. I was pulling and tucked in, thinking I was traveling at a pretty good clip when all of a sudden Aaron sling-shots from the draft and goes by me like a bat out of hell. “What the hell!?” was all I could say as he sprinted away like Mario Cippolini. Really, it had more to do with the rider than it did his steel bike, but whenever my legs fail me, I always blame it on my aluminum ride.
Before the ride was over I amused some and annoyed others while heading home back down Westwood. I came into a corner, threw the bike sideways, dragging my left cleat across the tarmac, performing my best Mert Lawill impersonation. Sparks flew from beneath my cleat and lit the sky like a giant bolt of lightening, as if to signal that we had conquered the great mountain.
CONTEST
A Pro Grip motorcycle jersey (just like the one that Stephane Peterhansel used to wear) to the first person that can answer the following questions:
1. What movie is the below dialogue from?
2. How does Pigman conclude his Caine-Hackman Theory thesis?
Tom: What’s he doing?
Droz: He's finishing his senior thesis. Pigman is trying to prove the Caine-Hackman Theory: No matter what time it is, 24 hours a day, you can find a Michael Caine or Gene Hackman movie playing on TV.
Tom: That's his thesis?
Droz: Yes! That’s the beauty of college these days, Tommy! You can major in Gameboy if you know how to bullshit.
Submit answers to: Freemanrace@aol.com
Subject line: Contest
WARNING: Rick wore the prized Pro Grip jersey while riding up Alpe Bluez, but it has since been washed (twice) in hot water.
Rick of all people should know how cold one can get on top of Blue Mountain because he’s been to the near-freezing summit at night almost as many times as I. Anything other than a jersey, vest or arm warmers and Rick would have probably had it in his gear bag. Had I needed a solder gun or a hydraulic jack for some reason, I bet he would have dug it out in no time.
Trevor’s excuse for leaving his jersey at home probably had something to do with getting preoccupied with the amount of air pressure in his tires. A reasonable excuse since he’s the unofficial King of flatting mountain bike tires. Fortunately for Rick and Trevor, I happen to have a surplus of old bicycle and motorcycle gear and was more than willing to set them up so we could get the ride underway. Rick wore a red Pro Grip motorcycle jersey and a red Acerbis vest – making him look like a cross between Stephane Peterhansel and Giovanni Sala. Trevor opted for a red short-sleeved Manitou jersey. Aaron, on the other hand came totally prepared even though he tried to convince us that he had forgotten his cleats. He’s tried to pull that stunt on me every single time we’ve ridden Blue Mountain so this time I didn’t buy it. All kidding aside, the three of them showed up with fire in their eyes and Alpe Bluez hate in their hearts, ready and willing to conquer the mountain.
The ride started off with a detour because whoever owns Blue Mountain fenced off the Palm St. entrance to the base of the mountain. Sad, since Grand Terrace advertises itself as “The Blue Mountain City.” Our detour took us up to Honey Hill and then down Westwood into Reche Canyon, where the climb began. It’s now obvious why the fence is up because the road heading up the mountain is very loose and sandy, which probably means they’ve been driving trucks and tractors to the antenna towers that top Alpe Bluez. Other than trying extra hard to find good traction the ascent was pretty normal – long, steep and relentless. I suffered as much at the top from being cold as I did from actually climbing.
Apparently Aaron had a more amusing ride up than Rick and I did because he rode near Trevor and listened in on the one-way conversation that Trevor had with his rear tire. Every few minutes Aaron heard a tire spin out in the sand followed by, “(Insert explicative here) tires!” The King of Mtb Flats was riding his back-up bike with a narrow rear tire filled with enough air to supply an entire ecosystem. His full-suspension Marin, which is currently under construction, is Trevor’s bike of choice – not his sweet Specialized hardtail.
The real fun began at the descent into Reche Canyon, which was mired with me nearly careening out of control over a cliff and Trevor taking a soil sample. No doubt – a result of his 200 pounds of air pressure. Rick and Aaron managed to escape the downhill unscathed and if you ask either one of them why, they’re likely to give you the same answer, “Because we ride steel bikes.” Although they’ve only met twice, they share the same motto. I’d be sipping fruity drinks in some clear blue ocean if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard one of them say, “Aluminum is for recycling. Steel is for building things.”
I can’t dispute their motto because the steel frame has gotten the best of me many times and it did that night as we pace-lined down a rough Reche Canyon Rd. I was pulling and tucked in, thinking I was traveling at a pretty good clip when all of a sudden Aaron sling-shots from the draft and goes by me like a bat out of hell. “What the hell!?” was all I could say as he sprinted away like Mario Cippolini. Really, it had more to do with the rider than it did his steel bike, but whenever my legs fail me, I always blame it on my aluminum ride.
Before the ride was over I amused some and annoyed others while heading home back down Westwood. I came into a corner, threw the bike sideways, dragging my left cleat across the tarmac, performing my best Mert Lawill impersonation. Sparks flew from beneath my cleat and lit the sky like a giant bolt of lightening, as if to signal that we had conquered the great mountain.
CONTEST
A Pro Grip motorcycle jersey (just like the one that Stephane Peterhansel used to wear) to the first person that can answer the following questions:
1. What movie is the below dialogue from?
2. How does Pigman conclude his Caine-Hackman Theory thesis?
Tom: What’s he doing?
Droz: He's finishing his senior thesis. Pigman is trying to prove the Caine-Hackman Theory: No matter what time it is, 24 hours a day, you can find a Michael Caine or Gene Hackman movie playing on TV.
Tom: That's his thesis?
Droz: Yes! That’s the beauty of college these days, Tommy! You can major in Gameboy if you know how to bullshit.
Submit answers to: Freemanrace@aol.com
Subject line: Contest
WARNING: Rick wore the prized Pro Grip jersey while riding up Alpe Bluez, but it has since been washed (twice) in hot water.
Nov 1, 2002
In the near future I plan on addressing the first Fall ride up Alpe Bluez, Chuck Yeager’s final super sonic flight, and the fall of Walter Payton’s rushing record. In the meantime, I’m introducing a new feature, “Ask Freemanrace.” It’s totally free and confidential and lets me answer your most complicated life questions. And if I can’t answer them for you, I’ll seek the expertise of someone who can.
Dear Freemanrace,
A friend of mine is throwing a party with a “Prom” theme, however, instead of coming dressed in a prom dress, she insists that we add a “theme” to the “Prom theme.” For example, she is coming in a dress covered in blood like Steven King’s “Carrie.” I may not even go to the party now because I can’t come up with a theme of my own. Got any ideas?
-Themeless
Dear Themeless,
First of all, Stephen King spells his name with a “PH,” not a “V.” Secondly, I can’t believe you have to ask me this question. I also can’t believe that anyone would invite someone like you, who obviously lacks imagination and creativity, to a party in the first place. It sounds like the party would be more fun if you weren’t even there, but if you do choose to go, consider the following. (Some of these brilliant ideas are actually going to require that you bring a date. That in itself might be a problem).
1. The girl that brings her dad to the prom. This one will require that you have a date or a boyfriend. Fix him up with a thick mustache and a bad tux so he looks like a real father. Make sure he hits on all of your friends, which will make the entire thing that much more genuine. Or, if you don’t have a boyfriend or a date, take your dad to the party for real.
2. The pregnant girl at the prom from the continuation high school down the street. You’ll need a larger than usual prom dress and a beach ball or something else round. This costume has a great advantage – that being - if you get too drunk and spill your drink on yourself, you can tell people at the party that your water just broke or that you’re lactating.
3. The Donna Martin prom theme. Get good and drunk before you even show up to the party. Then stumble in (flask in hand), throw up in the toilet and pass out on the bathroom floor. There’s one at every prom.
4. The eat, take pictures and leave couple. This one will require a date and may be the perfect theme for you since you’re obviously the anti-social type. Show up to the party, eat immediately and make sure everyone present with a camera gets a photo of you and your date A.S.A.P. As soon as they do, make a B-line for the door and get out of there. When the photos get developed show your parents and tell them what a great time you had at the “Prom theme party.”
5. The ugly poor girl who goes with the popular jock who lost a bet with his buddies. This one requires a date. It also requires that you choose an ugly dress, bad hair and some hideous glasses. To really spice it up, act like you can’t walk on high heels and dance like an idiot.
6. The M.A.D.D. (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) prom girl. Like the “Carrie” theme, this one will require a lot of fake blood, but will make a hell of a statement. It may even make people at the party thank twice before having that 12th beer. You might even consider a severed arm or leg to make an even greater impact. If anyone asks where your date is, say, “He died when the guard rail woke us up in the middle of the night,” or “He’s in detox downtown at the station.”
7. The girl who goes with the guy who walks around the prom waving his hotel room key at everyone. Like the Donna Martin theme, there’s one of these guys at every prom. Make sure everyone at the party sees his room key and make sure you ask all of your friends whether or not you should go up to his hotel room with him. Ask them multiple times until they finally say, “Yes, go! Get out of here.”
8. The anti-prom. Prior to the “Prom Party” announce to everyone invited, that you think the party (prom) is stupid and if they want, they can come to your house instead, where you’ll have plenty of beer. This of course, is the perfect idea for you because you’ll get to enjoy the prom theme without even attending your friend’s party. And who knows, maybe some of your other friends are big enough losers that they’ll come to your house to sit around and drink instead of going to the party.
Beyond that, I can’t help anymore. Have fun.
Dear Freemanrace,
A riding buddy said his head gets cold when we ride the wash trail in Mentone during the winter months. Since I work close to Performance Bike, he asked that I pick him up a black skullcap the next time I was at Performance Bike. When I got there, they only had blue, yellow and white. Knowing that his helmet is red, I bought the white skullcap since blue and yellow clash with red. When I told my buddy that I got him white instead of black, he refused to take the skullcap and also refused to pay for it. I tried to return the skullcap, but since it’s headwear, Performance Bike won’t take it back either. What should I do since my buddy refuses to pay me back the 14 bucks he owes me?
-Confused
Dear Confused,
There are many holes in the Mentone wash and in those holes many problems are buried.
Dear Freemanrace,
One of the guys I ride mountain bikes with cannot seem to keep the rubber side down. He constantly crashes and either breaks a part on his bike or injures himself. I’m afraid we’ll have to fly him out of the Mentone wash in a medivac helicopter if he keeps his crashing up for much longer. It’s beginning to be a problem for everyone else because a normal 90-minute spin turns into a three-hour ordeal whenever he’s along for the ride. How can we prevent our riding partner from crashing so much?
-Concerned
Dear Concerned,
There are many holes in the Mentone wash and in those holes many problems are buried.
Dear Freemanrace,
Last month my husband and I recently purchased a ’03 Dodge Ram pickup. He immediately insisted on putting a five-inch lift kit on it, which required new tires and wheels. So far we’ve spent close to 50-grand on the truck. The truck is so ridiculously high that he can’t even load his freestyle motocross bike in the bed without the neighbor’s help. Last week he came home with a “Bad Ass Boys Drive Bad Ass Toys” sticker on the rear window, which is embarrassing for me when I drive it. Not only that, our two-year old son and my three-year daughter keep asking me what the sticker says. I don’t know what to tell them and my husband refuses to take the sticker off. What should I do?
-Embarrassed
Dear Embarrassed,
Your husband is an idiot. I see those stickers on the freeway all the time and I think to myself, “What kind of poor-taste, low-life person puts that on their truck?” You are definitely in a tight spot. My first instinct would be to get him a rainbow print “Bad Ass Boys…” sticker, since those stickers are gay in the first place. Or else, you could divorce him, but you do have a child together and if you did leave him, he’s likely to get a urinating Calvin sticker with the words, “Ex-Wife” on it. That too is bad for your child to be exposed to, which is one reason why there are so many jacked kids these days. I guess the best piece of advice I can give is the advice I gave the last two letters. There are many holes in the Mentone wash . . .
freemanrace@aol.com
Dear Freemanrace,
A friend of mine is throwing a party with a “Prom” theme, however, instead of coming dressed in a prom dress, she insists that we add a “theme” to the “Prom theme.” For example, she is coming in a dress covered in blood like Steven King’s “Carrie.” I may not even go to the party now because I can’t come up with a theme of my own. Got any ideas?
-Themeless
Dear Themeless,
First of all, Stephen King spells his name with a “PH,” not a “V.” Secondly, I can’t believe you have to ask me this question. I also can’t believe that anyone would invite someone like you, who obviously lacks imagination and creativity, to a party in the first place. It sounds like the party would be more fun if you weren’t even there, but if you do choose to go, consider the following. (Some of these brilliant ideas are actually going to require that you bring a date. That in itself might be a problem).
1. The girl that brings her dad to the prom. This one will require that you have a date or a boyfriend. Fix him up with a thick mustache and a bad tux so he looks like a real father. Make sure he hits on all of your friends, which will make the entire thing that much more genuine. Or, if you don’t have a boyfriend or a date, take your dad to the party for real.
2. The pregnant girl at the prom from the continuation high school down the street. You’ll need a larger than usual prom dress and a beach ball or something else round. This costume has a great advantage – that being - if you get too drunk and spill your drink on yourself, you can tell people at the party that your water just broke or that you’re lactating.
3. The Donna Martin prom theme. Get good and drunk before you even show up to the party. Then stumble in (flask in hand), throw up in the toilet and pass out on the bathroom floor. There’s one at every prom.
4. The eat, take pictures and leave couple. This one will require a date and may be the perfect theme for you since you’re obviously the anti-social type. Show up to the party, eat immediately and make sure everyone present with a camera gets a photo of you and your date A.S.A.P. As soon as they do, make a B-line for the door and get out of there. When the photos get developed show your parents and tell them what a great time you had at the “Prom theme party.”
5. The ugly poor girl who goes with the popular jock who lost a bet with his buddies. This one requires a date. It also requires that you choose an ugly dress, bad hair and some hideous glasses. To really spice it up, act like you can’t walk on high heels and dance like an idiot.
6. The M.A.D.D. (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) prom girl. Like the “Carrie” theme, this one will require a lot of fake blood, but will make a hell of a statement. It may even make people at the party thank twice before having that 12th beer. You might even consider a severed arm or leg to make an even greater impact. If anyone asks where your date is, say, “He died when the guard rail woke us up in the middle of the night,” or “He’s in detox downtown at the station.”
7. The girl who goes with the guy who walks around the prom waving his hotel room key at everyone. Like the Donna Martin theme, there’s one of these guys at every prom. Make sure everyone at the party sees his room key and make sure you ask all of your friends whether or not you should go up to his hotel room with him. Ask them multiple times until they finally say, “Yes, go! Get out of here.”
8. The anti-prom. Prior to the “Prom Party” announce to everyone invited, that you think the party (prom) is stupid and if they want, they can come to your house instead, where you’ll have plenty of beer. This of course, is the perfect idea for you because you’ll get to enjoy the prom theme without even attending your friend’s party. And who knows, maybe some of your other friends are big enough losers that they’ll come to your house to sit around and drink instead of going to the party.
Beyond that, I can’t help anymore. Have fun.
Dear Freemanrace,
A riding buddy said his head gets cold when we ride the wash trail in Mentone during the winter months. Since I work close to Performance Bike, he asked that I pick him up a black skullcap the next time I was at Performance Bike. When I got there, they only had blue, yellow and white. Knowing that his helmet is red, I bought the white skullcap since blue and yellow clash with red. When I told my buddy that I got him white instead of black, he refused to take the skullcap and also refused to pay for it. I tried to return the skullcap, but since it’s headwear, Performance Bike won’t take it back either. What should I do since my buddy refuses to pay me back the 14 bucks he owes me?
-Confused
Dear Confused,
There are many holes in the Mentone wash and in those holes many problems are buried.
Dear Freemanrace,
One of the guys I ride mountain bikes with cannot seem to keep the rubber side down. He constantly crashes and either breaks a part on his bike or injures himself. I’m afraid we’ll have to fly him out of the Mentone wash in a medivac helicopter if he keeps his crashing up for much longer. It’s beginning to be a problem for everyone else because a normal 90-minute spin turns into a three-hour ordeal whenever he’s along for the ride. How can we prevent our riding partner from crashing so much?
-Concerned
Dear Concerned,
There are many holes in the Mentone wash and in those holes many problems are buried.
Dear Freemanrace,
Last month my husband and I recently purchased a ’03 Dodge Ram pickup. He immediately insisted on putting a five-inch lift kit on it, which required new tires and wheels. So far we’ve spent close to 50-grand on the truck. The truck is so ridiculously high that he can’t even load his freestyle motocross bike in the bed without the neighbor’s help. Last week he came home with a “Bad Ass Boys Drive Bad Ass Toys” sticker on the rear window, which is embarrassing for me when I drive it. Not only that, our two-year old son and my three-year daughter keep asking me what the sticker says. I don’t know what to tell them and my husband refuses to take the sticker off. What should I do?
-Embarrassed
Dear Embarrassed,
Your husband is an idiot. I see those stickers on the freeway all the time and I think to myself, “What kind of poor-taste, low-life person puts that on their truck?” You are definitely in a tight spot. My first instinct would be to get him a rainbow print “Bad Ass Boys…” sticker, since those stickers are gay in the first place. Or else, you could divorce him, but you do have a child together and if you did leave him, he’s likely to get a urinating Calvin sticker with the words, “Ex-Wife” on it. That too is bad for your child to be exposed to, which is one reason why there are so many jacked kids these days. I guess the best piece of advice I can give is the advice I gave the last two letters. There are many holes in the Mentone wash . . .
freemanrace@aol.com
Oct 29, 2002
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
ALPE BLUEZ TUESDAYS
Back by popular demand
Grand Terrace, Calif. – With the 2002 mountain bike and motorcycle racing season winding down, it’s that time of year again to roll on those arm warmers and charge up those lighting systems. Beginning Tuesday, October 29 weekly mountain bike rides up Grand Terrace’s Blue Mountain will start at approximately 6:30-7:00 PM from 22524 Raven Way. Park on the street and gear up in the warmth of my garage before heading up the infamous Alpe Bluez. The total ride distance is less than 10 miles, however the two miles from the base of the mountain to the top will be the longest two miles of your life. If you survive the climb you’ll enjoy the fun two-track and single-track that drops down into Reche Canyon. From there you’ll hammer out an easy gradual climb and twisty downhill back to my house. Alpe Bluez has received rave reviews.
“You have to be a sick person to do this more than once.” – Rick Daniel
“It’s probably not a good idea to do Blue Mountain if you plan on racing in the next couple of months.” – Josh Underwood
“If I had any energy left, I’d kick your ass.” – Adam Spik
“Man, I should have ridden Hulda Crook with Terry and Paul.” – Aaron Gerth
“Look! You can see what the temperature is in Baker from up here.” – Nathan Hughes
“Blue Mountain kicks ass. My ass.” – Trevor Walton
“I use to climb Blue Mountain.” – Kevin, owner Airborne Bike and Skate
“I’ll hike up there with you.” – Denise Freeman
“Don’t you think that’s a little steep?” – Cindy Freeman
“I’ve driven my car up there before. You know, guys parachute off that mountain.” – Jerry, City of Grand Terrace Building Inspector
“I heard people die up there.” – Joe, my neighbor
“I ride my motorcycle up there sometimes.” – Kinney Jones
“You guys ride bicycles up that?” – Destry Abbott
“I’d go with you guys, but I have to work the next day.” – Anonymous
“Isn’t that where the Donner Party got stranded?” – Stater Bros. checker.
“Looking back, we should have sentenced him to at least one trip up Alpe Bluez.” – Judge Lance Ito
If you plan on going, let me know so we don’t leave without you. Once on top of Alpe Bluez, it can get cold so bring appropriate clothing. Hope to see you there.
*I am not responsible for any bodily injury or death that may occur as a result of riding up Blue Mountain.
**No single speeds please. Steel bikes okay.
***All Alpe Bluez testimonials are not 100-percent accurate.
freemanrace@aol.com
ALPE BLUEZ TUESDAYS
Back by popular demand
Grand Terrace, Calif. – With the 2002 mountain bike and motorcycle racing season winding down, it’s that time of year again to roll on those arm warmers and charge up those lighting systems. Beginning Tuesday, October 29 weekly mountain bike rides up Grand Terrace’s Blue Mountain will start at approximately 6:30-7:00 PM from 22524 Raven Way. Park on the street and gear up in the warmth of my garage before heading up the infamous Alpe Bluez. The total ride distance is less than 10 miles, however the two miles from the base of the mountain to the top will be the longest two miles of your life. If you survive the climb you’ll enjoy the fun two-track and single-track that drops down into Reche Canyon. From there you’ll hammer out an easy gradual climb and twisty downhill back to my house. Alpe Bluez has received rave reviews.
“You have to be a sick person to do this more than once.” – Rick Daniel
“It’s probably not a good idea to do Blue Mountain if you plan on racing in the next couple of months.” – Josh Underwood
“If I had any energy left, I’d kick your ass.” – Adam Spik
“Man, I should have ridden Hulda Crook with Terry and Paul.” – Aaron Gerth
“Look! You can see what the temperature is in Baker from up here.” – Nathan Hughes
“Blue Mountain kicks ass. My ass.” – Trevor Walton
“I use to climb Blue Mountain.” – Kevin, owner Airborne Bike and Skate
“I’ll hike up there with you.” – Denise Freeman
“Don’t you think that’s a little steep?” – Cindy Freeman
“I’ve driven my car up there before. You know, guys parachute off that mountain.” – Jerry, City of Grand Terrace Building Inspector
“I heard people die up there.” – Joe, my neighbor
“I ride my motorcycle up there sometimes.” – Kinney Jones
“You guys ride bicycles up that?” – Destry Abbott
“I’d go with you guys, but I have to work the next day.” – Anonymous
“Isn’t that where the Donner Party got stranded?” – Stater Bros. checker.
“Looking back, we should have sentenced him to at least one trip up Alpe Bluez.” – Judge Lance Ito
If you plan on going, let me know so we don’t leave without you. Once on top of Alpe Bluez, it can get cold so bring appropriate clothing. Hope to see you there.
*I am not responsible for any bodily injury or death that may occur as a result of riding up Blue Mountain.
**No single speeds please. Steel bikes okay.
***All Alpe Bluez testimonials are not 100-percent accurate.
freemanrace@aol.com
Oct 23, 2002
Dumb stuff I’ve recently read on my way to work and my humble reaction to it
“Arms are for hugging.” - Bumper sticker on a Ford Excursion.
Someone has to fight for all the oil and gas that fuels your ridiculously huge vehicle.
“Remove for Rodeo.” – Billet aluminum hitch receiver cover on a 4-door V6 Nissan Frontier short bed pickup.
What kind of cowboy drives a short bed 6-cylinder?
“I ain’t never been to Vegas but I’ve gambled all my life.” - License plate frame on late ‘70s primer-painted Corvette, which sported a smashed quarter panel, dented fender and broken taillight (just on the right side).
Based on the appearance of the car, it’s hard to argue with that one.
“North 405 connector one lane only through November 15.” – Posted on digital Cal Trans sign, which explains the recent 55 southbound traffic jam that adds an additional 20 minutes to my commute.
I give up.
How traffic & a small bladder enriched my life
McKinnley, La Sierra, Magnolia. As I slowly passed exit after exit on the 91 Freeway last Friday evening, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I had no choice but to exit Tyler and find the nearest restroom and since I’m a self-declared concierge of public bathrooms all over the western United States, I knew that one is conveniently located near the west entrance of Nordstrom’s at the Galleria.
The Galleria parking lot was crawling with pedestrians and I nearly ran over a couple of mollies as I cruised by Nordy’s in search of a parking spot. Like running over a motorcyclist or a bicyclist, I would’ve felt horrible had I hit the two teenage girls because it would’ve been like injuring my own kind. You see, mollies and mall rats are common law siblings and since I spent five and a half years working at a mall I’m an honorary mall rat. Anyone who knows me well is aware that I hate to shop, but damn, I love the mall.
After dancing to the bathroom and then strolling out quite relieved, I could hear the mall calling my name so I figured, what the hell. I’m already here and I’ve been sitting in traffic for over an hour. Might as well stretch my legs. Then I remembered that the Hot Topic has a damn fine collection of hard-to-find CDs, so I made a b-line for the modern day commercial watered down version of Thrash in San Bernardino (that’s a whole different tear-jerking story). Of course, on my way out of Nordstrom’s I passed the hairpiece-clad grand pianist, the freak show at the makeup counter and the pushy shoes today/cars tomorrow salespeople.
Hot Topic was all decked out with Halloween garb but I didn’t pay much attention because the music isle is the size of an attic crawl space and I was concentrating on flipping through CDs without nudging the annoying employee that was re-folding t-shirts to my left. The hired hands at that place irritate the hell out me. My dad used to say that in order to get a job at McDonalds, you had to fail an IQ test. I think at Hot Topic you take a test that proves you're a poser, then you get presented with a nose piercing, some bad fashion advice and finally, a Hot Topic lanyard making you an official employee.
Anyway, what happened next was purely out of this world. I have no ideal what lured me to the “T” section of the CDs, but there in all its glory was a CD with a promotional sticker that read, “For fans of The Pogues, Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly.”
Sold.
The CD was from a band called The Tossers and while I was excited to have made a new discovery of punk/folk Irish influence, I was horrified at the title of the CD. "Communication & Conviction: the last seven years." The last seven years? The last seven years? Over the last 15 years I have spent hours on end investigating, studying and researching that drunken genre of music and in the last seven years I’ve never ran across any mention of The Tossers. What the hell?
That was Friday. Since then I’ve given The Tossers three spins and by the second go-around I was hooked. They’re a perfect blend of Flogging Molly and The Pogues and even have a Gallic female vocalist that chimes in on a few tracks. I’m a sucker for female rockers, especially those with accents. Meanwhile, the lead male vocalist of this mystery band issues a rough MacGowanesque rasp to his lyrics, while the rest of the eight-man ensemble literally kicks your arse with fast and furious drums, mandolins, bass, banjos, violins, tin whistles and guitars. And with song titles like "Thirty Days In The Hole," "Finnegan’s Wake," and "Seven Drunken Nights," how could you go wrong? I doubt the band is pure Irish because they don't curse much, so most likely my mom will like them. I'll have to do some deep research to get a bit of history on them.
This morning on the way to work I listened to The Tossers again. Their music is so involved and intense that by the time all 21 tracks are completed, I'm exhausted - but in a good way. Another successful trip to the mall.
“Arms are for hugging.” - Bumper sticker on a Ford Excursion.
Someone has to fight for all the oil and gas that fuels your ridiculously huge vehicle.
“Remove for Rodeo.” – Billet aluminum hitch receiver cover on a 4-door V6 Nissan Frontier short bed pickup.
What kind of cowboy drives a short bed 6-cylinder?
“I ain’t never been to Vegas but I’ve gambled all my life.” - License plate frame on late ‘70s primer-painted Corvette, which sported a smashed quarter panel, dented fender and broken taillight (just on the right side).
Based on the appearance of the car, it’s hard to argue with that one.
“North 405 connector one lane only through November 15.” – Posted on digital Cal Trans sign, which explains the recent 55 southbound traffic jam that adds an additional 20 minutes to my commute.
I give up.
How traffic & a small bladder enriched my life
McKinnley, La Sierra, Magnolia. As I slowly passed exit after exit on the 91 Freeway last Friday evening, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I had no choice but to exit Tyler and find the nearest restroom and since I’m a self-declared concierge of public bathrooms all over the western United States, I knew that one is conveniently located near the west entrance of Nordstrom’s at the Galleria.
The Galleria parking lot was crawling with pedestrians and I nearly ran over a couple of mollies as I cruised by Nordy’s in search of a parking spot. Like running over a motorcyclist or a bicyclist, I would’ve felt horrible had I hit the two teenage girls because it would’ve been like injuring my own kind. You see, mollies and mall rats are common law siblings and since I spent five and a half years working at a mall I’m an honorary mall rat. Anyone who knows me well is aware that I hate to shop, but damn, I love the mall.
After dancing to the bathroom and then strolling out quite relieved, I could hear the mall calling my name so I figured, what the hell. I’m already here and I’ve been sitting in traffic for over an hour. Might as well stretch my legs. Then I remembered that the Hot Topic has a damn fine collection of hard-to-find CDs, so I made a b-line for the modern day commercial watered down version of Thrash in San Bernardino (that’s a whole different tear-jerking story). Of course, on my way out of Nordstrom’s I passed the hairpiece-clad grand pianist, the freak show at the makeup counter and the pushy shoes today/cars tomorrow salespeople.
Hot Topic was all decked out with Halloween garb but I didn’t pay much attention because the music isle is the size of an attic crawl space and I was concentrating on flipping through CDs without nudging the annoying employee that was re-folding t-shirts to my left. The hired hands at that place irritate the hell out me. My dad used to say that in order to get a job at McDonalds, you had to fail an IQ test. I think at Hot Topic you take a test that proves you're a poser, then you get presented with a nose piercing, some bad fashion advice and finally, a Hot Topic lanyard making you an official employee.
Anyway, what happened next was purely out of this world. I have no ideal what lured me to the “T” section of the CDs, but there in all its glory was a CD with a promotional sticker that read, “For fans of The Pogues, Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly.”
Sold.
The CD was from a band called The Tossers and while I was excited to have made a new discovery of punk/folk Irish influence, I was horrified at the title of the CD. "Communication & Conviction: the last seven years." The last seven years? The last seven years? Over the last 15 years I have spent hours on end investigating, studying and researching that drunken genre of music and in the last seven years I’ve never ran across any mention of The Tossers. What the hell?
That was Friday. Since then I’ve given The Tossers three spins and by the second go-around I was hooked. They’re a perfect blend of Flogging Molly and The Pogues and even have a Gallic female vocalist that chimes in on a few tracks. I’m a sucker for female rockers, especially those with accents. Meanwhile, the lead male vocalist of this mystery band issues a rough MacGowanesque rasp to his lyrics, while the rest of the eight-man ensemble literally kicks your arse with fast and furious drums, mandolins, bass, banjos, violins, tin whistles and guitars. And with song titles like "Thirty Days In The Hole," "Finnegan’s Wake," and "Seven Drunken Nights," how could you go wrong? I doubt the band is pure Irish because they don't curse much, so most likely my mom will like them. I'll have to do some deep research to get a bit of history on them.
This morning on the way to work I listened to The Tossers again. Their music is so involved and intense that by the time all 21 tracks are completed, I'm exhausted - but in a good way. Another successful trip to the mall.
Oct 16, 2002
Here it is, the middle of October already. Where has the year gone? It seems like last month I was freezing my arse off up in Monterey at the Sea Otter Bicycle Classic, but in reality that was back in April. It being the fall season now, it’s time to freeze my arse off again. I don’t look forward to fall, but I welcome it. I like the holiday season, because with it comes a new year. Ironically it’s hard to believe that the New Year will only be 2003. I’ve been in 2003 mode since May of ‘02 – planning press launches, media events and writing press releases for ’03 models and product. To me it feels like January 1 should bring in 2004 instead of 2003. Sound confusing? It is for me.
This year marked almost the first full year that I focused all of my attention on mountain bike racing instead of motorcycle AND mountain bike racing. Actually from January to March, I still had aspirations to do both. However, in March when motorcycle racing became more of a struggle than a reward, I decided to switch to pedaling full time. I got a late start in my race training and in the spring I started averaging 150 to 250 miles per week on the bicycle. I missed the season opener due to lack of fitness but by May I had a good fitness base. I went on to win one series championship, and finished fourth and fifth in the other two I contested - after missing a round of each. Burnout and fatigue did set in about four to six weeks ago, but I think that’s because I tried too quickly to build up a fitness base in a short amount of time instead of pacing myself. Instead of peaking in September when it would have been nice to turn it on toward the end of the season, I peaked around July. I’ll know better next year.
Of all the training rides I did this year, my favorite by far is Tuesday nights on Sunset in Redlands. Aside from a District 37 Enduro, I can’t remember the last time I looked so forward to (and was so up for) an athletic event. It’s like anticipating the end of high school football two-a-days, which meant it was time to put on full pads and go “full speed.” Before everyone grew and I was considered average size, that was the day of football practice that I looked most forward to. That was the day that the trash talking stopped and from then on out, it was your body that did the talking.
Tuesday nights on Sunset are similar. You ride down to Hogi Yogi, the ride’s meeting place, around 5:15 PM and the entire time it’s in the back of your mind that in one hour you’ll be suffering like you’ve never suffered before. Your stomach may even be in knots because if you’re not feeling tip-top on the way down there, the chances are you’re going to get dropped and that’s just bad for morale. Around 5:55 when you get to Hogi Yogi there are usually already about 30 guys there waiting for the ride to begin. There’s not a lot of trash talking going on because we’re not a high school football team, but there is a definite vibe - a vibe of uneasiness that is disguised by conversation about last weekend’s race or someone’s new wheels.
Meanwhile, as each new rider pulls up, adding to the group, you examine their stature and debate to yourself whether he has the ability to control or affect the pace. Most riders you’ve already sized up at a prior ride and you don’t worry about them, but there are always a few guys that can and will make the next hour of your life a living hell, if you’re not up to it. You pay attention to whether that select few is present and let out a silent sigh of relief when just one of them doesn’t show. You wonder if someone lets out the same sigh of relief on the nights that you don’t show.
The ride starts out slow, but before long your heart rate is pegged and you wonder which will explode first – your chest or your legs? You sit behind a fast group of about four or five and look back to see that there is only one more behind you. The rest have been thrown away like junk mail and even though you still have your current group to deal with, a feeling of invincibility runs through your body. If you’re not careful, that same feeling can be sucked out, twice as fast as it were achieved and you too can be left for dead. But on those Tuesday nights when everything goes as planned and you endure enough pain, suffering and hell to wipe out an army of main stream men, you go to bed with that invincibility. And you wake up the next morning wishing everyday were a summer time Tuesday.
This year marked almost the first full year that I focused all of my attention on mountain bike racing instead of motorcycle AND mountain bike racing. Actually from January to March, I still had aspirations to do both. However, in March when motorcycle racing became more of a struggle than a reward, I decided to switch to pedaling full time. I got a late start in my race training and in the spring I started averaging 150 to 250 miles per week on the bicycle. I missed the season opener due to lack of fitness but by May I had a good fitness base. I went on to win one series championship, and finished fourth and fifth in the other two I contested - after missing a round of each. Burnout and fatigue did set in about four to six weeks ago, but I think that’s because I tried too quickly to build up a fitness base in a short amount of time instead of pacing myself. Instead of peaking in September when it would have been nice to turn it on toward the end of the season, I peaked around July. I’ll know better next year.
Of all the training rides I did this year, my favorite by far is Tuesday nights on Sunset in Redlands. Aside from a District 37 Enduro, I can’t remember the last time I looked so forward to (and was so up for) an athletic event. It’s like anticipating the end of high school football two-a-days, which meant it was time to put on full pads and go “full speed.” Before everyone grew and I was considered average size, that was the day of football practice that I looked most forward to. That was the day that the trash talking stopped and from then on out, it was your body that did the talking.
Tuesday nights on Sunset are similar. You ride down to Hogi Yogi, the ride’s meeting place, around 5:15 PM and the entire time it’s in the back of your mind that in one hour you’ll be suffering like you’ve never suffered before. Your stomach may even be in knots because if you’re not feeling tip-top on the way down there, the chances are you’re going to get dropped and that’s just bad for morale. Around 5:55 when you get to Hogi Yogi there are usually already about 30 guys there waiting for the ride to begin. There’s not a lot of trash talking going on because we’re not a high school football team, but there is a definite vibe - a vibe of uneasiness that is disguised by conversation about last weekend’s race or someone’s new wheels.
Meanwhile, as each new rider pulls up, adding to the group, you examine their stature and debate to yourself whether he has the ability to control or affect the pace. Most riders you’ve already sized up at a prior ride and you don’t worry about them, but there are always a few guys that can and will make the next hour of your life a living hell, if you’re not up to it. You pay attention to whether that select few is present and let out a silent sigh of relief when just one of them doesn’t show. You wonder if someone lets out the same sigh of relief on the nights that you don’t show.
The ride starts out slow, but before long your heart rate is pegged and you wonder which will explode first – your chest or your legs? You sit behind a fast group of about four or five and look back to see that there is only one more behind you. The rest have been thrown away like junk mail and even though you still have your current group to deal with, a feeling of invincibility runs through your body. If you’re not careful, that same feeling can be sucked out, twice as fast as it were achieved and you too can be left for dead. But on those Tuesday nights when everything goes as planned and you endure enough pain, suffering and hell to wipe out an army of main stream men, you go to bed with that invincibility. And you wake up the next morning wishing everyday were a summer time Tuesday.
Oct 11, 2002
Never a Poster Boy for Sobriety
"Rock n' Roll offers two long-term career paths: death or confession. Sooner or later, you either join the ranks of casualties (Elvis, Hendrix, Vicious) or rehabilitated survivors (Eric Clapton, Steve Tyler, Elton John). Actually, there is a third option. You could be Shane MacGowan." - Taken from "A man of many words and few teeth," an article about Shane that appeared in The Guardian.
I found the quote humorous, but I've also learned that Shane is currently in a bad way. He's touring in Europe, however shows have been canceled at random due to his poor health. He has no current plans to come back to the U.S.
Oct 4, 2002
24 Hours of Adrenaline (Part 2)
It’s been nearly a week since the 24 Hours of Adrenalin and I still haven’t ridden a bicycle since about 10:something A.M. last Sunday. I’ve mounted a stationary bike and a spin bike, but not an actual bicycle and it’s not because I’m tired of riding. It’s because the days have gotten too short to put in a good daylight ride after work. It’s all night rides from here on out I’m afraid.
Everyone keeps asking me about the 24-hour and without going into a Steinbeck of a story, I’ll just say it went okay. The team rode well and we all turned consistent sub-hour lap times with the exception of one of Jeroen’s laps, which was a couple minutes over an hour. I did the Lemans start and actually led all 200-something teams about halfway through the run, but just before reaching the transition area I popped and fell back to about 15th or so. Other than a nasty get-off during my first night lap everything went so-so. Like I said before I was disappointed with my performance, but I guess that can be expected this late in the season. The biggest obstacle to overcome (besides the drizzle, rain, cold, lack of sleep and getting up in the middle of the night to do laps) was definitely the amount of lappers that we had to deal with. I never really got a good clean lap in because I was constantly trying to find ways around people. I’m glad that the turn out was so high, but riding around and sometimes over people really takes a lot of energy. It’s all fun and so are a lot of the team names that people come up with.
No Bluff too Tuff
Holy Spokes
Bastard Sons of Gary Fisher (based on the band, Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash)
Insomniacs
You’re Killing Me Larry! (of Sit N’ Sleep commercial fame)
Dusty Dames
Honey, Do These Shorts Make Me Look Fat?
Yaks Can Climb Version 2.0 (I have no idea, but I found it funny)
Team In Your Way (I remember that team)
Oops, I Crapped My Pants (a great Saturday Night Live reference)
24 Hours of Ineptitude
All Balls No Brains
Testosterone Bonding Club
Tick Magnets
Tip of the Day
“When choosing between two evils, always choose the one you haven’t tried.” – Mae West
Why didn't I think of that?
I heard about this chick on the radio a few weeks ago and kind of forgot about it until Trevor reminded me. His email cracked me up. Take it away Trevor...
Hey, have you seen this: www.savekaryn.com
I can't believe the nerve of this chick. I think I'll start my own website: www.daddyneedsanewpairofshoes.com and
put pictures of my ratty vans up there and see how many suckers will send me a dollar...
-Trevor
Okay, it’s Friday and I’m eager to get away from the computer so I’m out.
-freemanrace@aol.com
It’s been nearly a week since the 24 Hours of Adrenalin and I still haven’t ridden a bicycle since about 10:something A.M. last Sunday. I’ve mounted a stationary bike and a spin bike, but not an actual bicycle and it’s not because I’m tired of riding. It’s because the days have gotten too short to put in a good daylight ride after work. It’s all night rides from here on out I’m afraid.
Everyone keeps asking me about the 24-hour and without going into a Steinbeck of a story, I’ll just say it went okay. The team rode well and we all turned consistent sub-hour lap times with the exception of one of Jeroen’s laps, which was a couple minutes over an hour. I did the Lemans start and actually led all 200-something teams about halfway through the run, but just before reaching the transition area I popped and fell back to about 15th or so. Other than a nasty get-off during my first night lap everything went so-so. Like I said before I was disappointed with my performance, but I guess that can be expected this late in the season. The biggest obstacle to overcome (besides the drizzle, rain, cold, lack of sleep and getting up in the middle of the night to do laps) was definitely the amount of lappers that we had to deal with. I never really got a good clean lap in because I was constantly trying to find ways around people. I’m glad that the turn out was so high, but riding around and sometimes over people really takes a lot of energy. It’s all fun and so are a lot of the team names that people come up with.
No Bluff too Tuff
Holy Spokes
Bastard Sons of Gary Fisher (based on the band, Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash)
Insomniacs
You’re Killing Me Larry! (of Sit N’ Sleep commercial fame)
Dusty Dames
Honey, Do These Shorts Make Me Look Fat?
Yaks Can Climb Version 2.0 (I have no idea, but I found it funny)
Team In Your Way (I remember that team)
Oops, I Crapped My Pants (a great Saturday Night Live reference)
24 Hours of Ineptitude
All Balls No Brains
Testosterone Bonding Club
Tick Magnets
Tip of the Day
“When choosing between two evils, always choose the one you haven’t tried.” – Mae West
Why didn't I think of that?
I heard about this chick on the radio a few weeks ago and kind of forgot about it until Trevor reminded me. His email cracked me up. Take it away Trevor...
Hey, have you seen this: www.savekaryn.com
I can't believe the nerve of this chick. I think I'll start my own website: www.daddyneedsanewpairofshoes.com and
put pictures of my ratty vans up there and see how many suckers will send me a dollar...
-Trevor
Okay, it’s Friday and I’m eager to get away from the computer so I’m out.
-freemanrace@aol.com
Sep 30, 2002
201 Teams, 17 Solo Males, 4 Solo Females Equaling Approximately 1100 Racers
24 Hours of Adrenalin (Part 1)
I cannot adequately describe the 24 Hours of Adrenalin at Hurkey Creek campground near Idyllwild, California. I mean, I can tell you all about my team’s experience in the race, but there is no way one person can sum up the entire event. 24 Hours of Adrenalin races are organized by Tri-Life, a Canadian-based company that travels North America from spring to fall promoting several 24-hour mountain bike events. Throughout my life I have attended uncountable motorcycle races as a racer, spectator, journalist and even worker but none of those events (not even AMA Supercross or FIM World Superbike) come close to the organization of the 24 Hours of Adrenalin.
This year’s event was my second and I came away even more impressed than last year. There are several reasons why I think the event is so well organized compared to other events I’ve been involved with. Tri-Life takes care of the racers, spectators/support crews, sponsors, media and local businesses. If you’re not racing you can compete in musical chairs, watch movies on the drive-in like movie screen, get involved with the race theme contests or partake in a handful of other non-racing activities that take place from noon Saturday to noon Sunday.
The beauty behind it all is that you don’t have to be a bicycle racer to take part. Most of the teams are riding for the fun and experience of a 24-hour event. It’s not uncommon to see someone on a 10-man Corporate team finish his/her lap and then drink a beer and it’s not uncommon to see young kids and 50-something women out on the loop and it's not uncommon to see people hugging and crying out of joy at noon on Sunday either. Whether you compete on a Corporate team of ten, an age division team of five, a two-man team or as an honorable Solo, finishing is very satisfying.
This year Divaadrenalin was back and bidding, not for the fastest All-Female team, but to defend their Best Campsite title. And they did, kind of. Divaadrenalin decked out their campsite with teepees, hay bails, cowboy hats and all things western to tie with Team Heat, an Idyllwild/Hemet-based team of serious racers that were supported by a caterer, a live band, tons of support people and even dancers. Team Heat’s Hawaiian-themed campsite also offered up free food and drink to anyone in attendance. That is what the 24 Hours of Adrenalin is all about.
The 24 Hours of Adrenalin atmosphere is 49-percent party, 49-percent mountain bike race and 2-percent suffer fest (it’s still a bike race). Of the 201 teams entered Daart Endurance (my team) finished ninth overall, completing 27 laps in 24:38:59. In the 5-man 150-199 Age Group (of the five guys on my team, our added ages fell in between 150 and 199) we finished third out of 55. Pretty good results, but I feel I could have ridden better. My body is tired, fatigued and beat up from a long racing season and I feel like my lap times suffered due to the fact.
More later.
24 Hours of Adrenalin (Part 1)
I cannot adequately describe the 24 Hours of Adrenalin at Hurkey Creek campground near Idyllwild, California. I mean, I can tell you all about my team’s experience in the race, but there is no way one person can sum up the entire event. 24 Hours of Adrenalin races are organized by Tri-Life, a Canadian-based company that travels North America from spring to fall promoting several 24-hour mountain bike events. Throughout my life I have attended uncountable motorcycle races as a racer, spectator, journalist and even worker but none of those events (not even AMA Supercross or FIM World Superbike) come close to the organization of the 24 Hours of Adrenalin.
This year’s event was my second and I came away even more impressed than last year. There are several reasons why I think the event is so well organized compared to other events I’ve been involved with. Tri-Life takes care of the racers, spectators/support crews, sponsors, media and local businesses. If you’re not racing you can compete in musical chairs, watch movies on the drive-in like movie screen, get involved with the race theme contests or partake in a handful of other non-racing activities that take place from noon Saturday to noon Sunday.
The beauty behind it all is that you don’t have to be a bicycle racer to take part. Most of the teams are riding for the fun and experience of a 24-hour event. It’s not uncommon to see someone on a 10-man Corporate team finish his/her lap and then drink a beer and it’s not uncommon to see young kids and 50-something women out on the loop and it's not uncommon to see people hugging and crying out of joy at noon on Sunday either. Whether you compete on a Corporate team of ten, an age division team of five, a two-man team or as an honorable Solo, finishing is very satisfying.
This year Divaadrenalin was back and bidding, not for the fastest All-Female team, but to defend their Best Campsite title. And they did, kind of. Divaadrenalin decked out their campsite with teepees, hay bails, cowboy hats and all things western to tie with Team Heat, an Idyllwild/Hemet-based team of serious racers that were supported by a caterer, a live band, tons of support people and even dancers. Team Heat’s Hawaiian-themed campsite also offered up free food and drink to anyone in attendance. That is what the 24 Hours of Adrenalin is all about.
The 24 Hours of Adrenalin atmosphere is 49-percent party, 49-percent mountain bike race and 2-percent suffer fest (it’s still a bike race). Of the 201 teams entered Daart Endurance (my team) finished ninth overall, completing 27 laps in 24:38:59. In the 5-man 150-199 Age Group (of the five guys on my team, our added ages fell in between 150 and 199) we finished third out of 55. Pretty good results, but I feel I could have ridden better. My body is tired, fatigued and beat up from a long racing season and I feel like my lap times suffered due to the fact.
More later.
Sep 27, 2002
Bill Gates, Rosie O'Donnell & 91 Freeway - Bad
Mark McGuire & San Antonio Riverwalk - Good
O.J. - ?
Before I left for San Antonio for the Kawasaki Dealer Meeting someone sent me an email with a nasty virus attached. It disabled my computer at work but I said, "Screw it, I'm going to Texas. I'll deal with it when I get back." While I was away I totally forgot about. I had other things to worry about, like whether or not the 13 racers scheduled to do four autograph signings, over two days, were going to show up on time. For the most part they did and only twice did I have to get on my cell phone to track down missing riders. And while Eric Bostrom, Tony Miering and Destry Abbott were off in down town San Antonio bowling (four games, each at under 100 points) I was stuck on the showroom floor for two days listening to questions like, "When will we see a new ZX-7R?" or "Who's going to ride the GP bike in Europe next year?"
The last night we were in town was actually pretty fun. Destry, Tony, Jason Smigel, Tommy Hayden and I had dinner down on the Riverwalk and then went over to Sunset Station to the Kawasaki Farewell Party and watched drunken dealers and co-workers make arses of themselves on several different dance floors. Jason, Tommy and Tony turned in early so Destry and I went back down to the Riverwalk and sat outside at an Irish Pub and had peanuts and a beer - all the while watching several drunk tourists swagger down the Riverwalk (dangerously close to the river's edge) trying to make it back to their hotel.
So I returned to an ill PC at work on Thursday and that bastard Bill Gates and Microsoft charge nearly $100 just to call the Microsoft Customer Service hotline. So I said, "Screw that and screw him," and called the 800-number for the manufacturer of my computer. After two days of phone calls, we finally got everything back in line. Apparently Microsoft could have taken care of me immediately, but I'm not adding to that monopoly anymore. I already can't stand
Bill Gates for this reason: I worked with a guy, who knew a guy (these kind of stories are great) who was a caddy at a golf course in Santa Barbara. Apparently Bill Gates golfed often and never - not once - tipped a caddy for his services. Meanwhile Mark MacGuire, who has always been very generous to various charities tipped very well and even O.J. (pre-murders) was a high tipper. I call for a Bill Gates boycott.
"And the rich eat you." - Jello Biafra from the Dead Kennedy's Trust Your Mechanic
Rosie's New Do Comes Out of the Closet
Nearly a year after Rosie O'Donnell shocked housewives across the nation by announcing that she is gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), she recently held a press conference to announce that she was throwing in the towel on her self-righteous magazine, Rosie. At the press conference O'Donnell stated, "I cannot have my name on a magazine if I cannot be assured that it will represent my vision and ideas." Translation: "If I can't appear on the cover of every issue of Rosie, no one can."
I can't decide which is more hilarious - the fact that Rosie felt compelled to hold a huge press conference as if the Washington Post or L.A. Times were going out of print or her fashionable new hair-do.
THE BEST & WORST OF THE 91 (Part 1)
Best sticker of contradiction: Bite Me City Girl, on the back of a very clean white Ford Ranger, which I doubt was headed into Orange County to buy blankets and feed for the long cold winter.
Best sticker to prove that you don't ride motorcycles but you think they're real cool: Anything Fox.
Best sticker to prove that you have no motorcycle skills what so ever: Got Sand?
Best silent plead for help: Billet aluminum receiver hitch covers that read, "Remove 4 River", which really mean, "I have a drinking problem."
Most fishy license plate frame: The Cod Father
Worst sticker/license plate frame that normally accompanies a big #3: I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying.
Best sticker of faith: "Don't let the car fool you. My treasure is in heaven", displayed on a trashed early '70's model El Camino.
Worst inside joke license plate frame: Monkeys steal my underwear at night.
Best way to scare off business: Rear window of a silver Honda Civic: Extensions & Braids by Ms. Deeds, www.shirleyshair.com. License plate frame of same car: I am a bitch so get out of my way.
Best environmental sticker: Save the planet. Kill yourself.
Best way to get a ticket: Solo female driver crosses over double yellow lines into the car pool lane. Coincidentally, the license plate frame on her white Honda Civic states, Librarians do it by the book.
I'm off to the 24 Hours of Adrenaline mountain bike race in Idyllwild, CA. Details later. . .
freemanrace@aol.com
Mark McGuire & San Antonio Riverwalk - Good
O.J. - ?
Before I left for San Antonio for the Kawasaki Dealer Meeting someone sent me an email with a nasty virus attached. It disabled my computer at work but I said, "Screw it, I'm going to Texas. I'll deal with it when I get back." While I was away I totally forgot about. I had other things to worry about, like whether or not the 13 racers scheduled to do four autograph signings, over two days, were going to show up on time. For the most part they did and only twice did I have to get on my cell phone to track down missing riders. And while Eric Bostrom, Tony Miering and Destry Abbott were off in down town San Antonio bowling (four games, each at under 100 points) I was stuck on the showroom floor for two days listening to questions like, "When will we see a new ZX-7R?" or "Who's going to ride the GP bike in Europe next year?"
The last night we were in town was actually pretty fun. Destry, Tony, Jason Smigel, Tommy Hayden and I had dinner down on the Riverwalk and then went over to Sunset Station to the Kawasaki Farewell Party and watched drunken dealers and co-workers make arses of themselves on several different dance floors. Jason, Tommy and Tony turned in early so Destry and I went back down to the Riverwalk and sat outside at an Irish Pub and had peanuts and a beer - all the while watching several drunk tourists swagger down the Riverwalk (dangerously close to the river's edge) trying to make it back to their hotel.
So I returned to an ill PC at work on Thursday and that bastard Bill Gates and Microsoft charge nearly $100 just to call the Microsoft Customer Service hotline. So I said, "Screw that and screw him," and called the 800-number for the manufacturer of my computer. After two days of phone calls, we finally got everything back in line. Apparently Microsoft could have taken care of me immediately, but I'm not adding to that monopoly anymore. I already can't stand
Bill Gates for this reason: I worked with a guy, who knew a guy (these kind of stories are great) who was a caddy at a golf course in Santa Barbara. Apparently Bill Gates golfed often and never - not once - tipped a caddy for his services. Meanwhile Mark MacGuire, who has always been very generous to various charities tipped very well and even O.J. (pre-murders) was a high tipper. I call for a Bill Gates boycott.
"And the rich eat you." - Jello Biafra from the Dead Kennedy's Trust Your Mechanic
Rosie's New Do Comes Out of the Closet
Nearly a year after Rosie O'Donnell shocked housewives across the nation by announcing that she is gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), she recently held a press conference to announce that she was throwing in the towel on her self-righteous magazine, Rosie. At the press conference O'Donnell stated, "I cannot have my name on a magazine if I cannot be assured that it will represent my vision and ideas." Translation: "If I can't appear on the cover of every issue of Rosie, no one can."
I can't decide which is more hilarious - the fact that Rosie felt compelled to hold a huge press conference as if the Washington Post or L.A. Times were going out of print or her fashionable new hair-do.
THE BEST & WORST OF THE 91 (Part 1)
Best sticker of contradiction: Bite Me City Girl, on the back of a very clean white Ford Ranger, which I doubt was headed into Orange County to buy blankets and feed for the long cold winter.
Best sticker to prove that you don't ride motorcycles but you think they're real cool: Anything Fox.
Best sticker to prove that you have no motorcycle skills what so ever: Got Sand?
Best silent plead for help: Billet aluminum receiver hitch covers that read, "Remove 4 River", which really mean, "I have a drinking problem."
Most fishy license plate frame: The Cod Father
Worst sticker/license plate frame that normally accompanies a big #3: I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying.
Best sticker of faith: "Don't let the car fool you. My treasure is in heaven", displayed on a trashed early '70's model El Camino.
Worst inside joke license plate frame: Monkeys steal my underwear at night.
Best way to scare off business: Rear window of a silver Honda Civic: Extensions & Braids by Ms. Deeds, www.shirleyshair.com. License plate frame of same car: I am a bitch so get out of my way.
Best environmental sticker: Save the planet. Kill yourself.
Best way to get a ticket: Solo female driver crosses over double yellow lines into the car pool lane. Coincidentally, the license plate frame on her white Honda Civic states, Librarians do it by the book.
I'm off to the 24 Hours of Adrenaline mountain bike race in Idyllwild, CA. Details later. . .
freemanrace@aol.com
Aug 28, 2002
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: “It might have been!”
– 19th century American Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier.
I knew it wasn't from the moment Team Big Bear’s Pat Follet (or was it Tom? I don’t know which is which. They both yell a lot, but put on some damn fine races) yelled, “Go!” From that fatal word my Superlink SRAM chain began dancing on my 9-speed XT cassette like Kevin Bacon in the movie “Footloose.” The damn thing wouldn’t stay put in gear and over the clicking noise of the chain jumping between sprockets, I could hear Aaron Gerth’s haunting voice in my head. “Dude, you should never change anything the night before a race.” Over and over again. I don’t know which was more annoying, the ring of Aaron’s words of wisdom that I had ignored or the "click-click-clack" of the chain and cassette as they danced inharmoniously like a couple of 13-year-olds trying to slow dance at a Junior High Winter Ball.
The night before I insisted that Aaron install a new piece of cable housing to replace the stock piece that had developed a slight bend. A week before the bike was shifting fine but a slight click in third gear had convinced me that the tweak in the housing was the culprit. So, against his will I held a spoke wrench to his throat and watched as he replaced the housing that runs from the seat stay to the rear derailleur. The only hitch (I thought) was that the cable housing was too thick for the metal ferrules that we had available to cap off the housing ends. I thought I had the solution, taking a razor blade to the housing to shave the circumference, allowing the ferrules to fit. What I really did was seal my California State XC round five coffin. On the bike stand, without a load the Cannondale Scalpel shifted flawlessly and even during Sunday morning’s pre-race warm-up/spin everything was cool, but as soon as I put the metal to the pedals the trouble started.
Before the race was three miles old I couldn’t take it anymore and stopped, hoping I could alleviate the problem by screwing with the barrel adjuster on the rear derailleur. I only made it worse and by that time the hope of decent finish had been littered, like a Virginia Slims cigarette flicked out the window of a Honda Civic on the 91 Freeway. I did discover however, that I could use the first and ninth gear in each of the three chain rings - without the annoyance of the dancing chain. So, for the remaining 18 miles I did just that. I rode up the five bitches in a higher gear than ever before, I ascended Pirates of the Caribbean in a lower gear than ever before and heading to the finish I drag-raced neck and neck with a Sport-class woman rider as I had never before. She was wearing a leopard skin sleeveless jersey and for that brief sprint I felt like a gazelle on the Serengeti trying desperately not to become dinner. I got the nod by a wheel or two, but she put up one hell of a fight.
I ended up 9th Expert 25-29 of twelve. Tony Manzella got the class win and riding partner Josh Underwood put in a good performance claiming fifth. Three days have past and my legs still ache from pushing such an uncharacteristically high gear. And the regret of not listening to Aaron’s advice still stings like salt in an open wound.
On Monday night we discovered that the root of all-evil was in the cable housing that I had shaved down. Apparently my precision-razor-blade-fix had allowed for the shift cable to dig into the edge of the housing underneath the ferrule. Problem fixed, but we also discovered that my almost new XT cassette was bent on the second gear, which explains why the chain was hopping in the first place. I sent the cassette back to Shimano for a warranty replacement and if they don’t honor it, you can bet you’ll hear about it right here.
Never in 15 years did I ever change anything on a motorcycle the night before a motorcycle race. I don’t know why I decided to do it differently when it came to bicycles. I deserve the horrible 9th place finish.
Guess what girls? I promise no bicycle or motorcycle stuff in the next posting.
– 19th century American Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier.
I knew it wasn't from the moment Team Big Bear’s Pat Follet (or was it Tom? I don’t know which is which. They both yell a lot, but put on some damn fine races) yelled, “Go!” From that fatal word my Superlink SRAM chain began dancing on my 9-speed XT cassette like Kevin Bacon in the movie “Footloose.” The damn thing wouldn’t stay put in gear and over the clicking noise of the chain jumping between sprockets, I could hear Aaron Gerth’s haunting voice in my head. “Dude, you should never change anything the night before a race.” Over and over again. I don’t know which was more annoying, the ring of Aaron’s words of wisdom that I had ignored or the "click-click-clack" of the chain and cassette as they danced inharmoniously like a couple of 13-year-olds trying to slow dance at a Junior High Winter Ball.
The night before I insisted that Aaron install a new piece of cable housing to replace the stock piece that had developed a slight bend. A week before the bike was shifting fine but a slight click in third gear had convinced me that the tweak in the housing was the culprit. So, against his will I held a spoke wrench to his throat and watched as he replaced the housing that runs from the seat stay to the rear derailleur. The only hitch (I thought) was that the cable housing was too thick for the metal ferrules that we had available to cap off the housing ends. I thought I had the solution, taking a razor blade to the housing to shave the circumference, allowing the ferrules to fit. What I really did was seal my California State XC round five coffin. On the bike stand, without a load the Cannondale Scalpel shifted flawlessly and even during Sunday morning’s pre-race warm-up/spin everything was cool, but as soon as I put the metal to the pedals the trouble started.
Before the race was three miles old I couldn’t take it anymore and stopped, hoping I could alleviate the problem by screwing with the barrel adjuster on the rear derailleur. I only made it worse and by that time the hope of decent finish had been littered, like a Virginia Slims cigarette flicked out the window of a Honda Civic on the 91 Freeway. I did discover however, that I could use the first and ninth gear in each of the three chain rings - without the annoyance of the dancing chain. So, for the remaining 18 miles I did just that. I rode up the five bitches in a higher gear than ever before, I ascended Pirates of the Caribbean in a lower gear than ever before and heading to the finish I drag-raced neck and neck with a Sport-class woman rider as I had never before. She was wearing a leopard skin sleeveless jersey and for that brief sprint I felt like a gazelle on the Serengeti trying desperately not to become dinner. I got the nod by a wheel or two, but she put up one hell of a fight.
I ended up 9th Expert 25-29 of twelve. Tony Manzella got the class win and riding partner Josh Underwood put in a good performance claiming fifth. Three days have past and my legs still ache from pushing such an uncharacteristically high gear. And the regret of not listening to Aaron’s advice still stings like salt in an open wound.
On Monday night we discovered that the root of all-evil was in the cable housing that I had shaved down. Apparently my precision-razor-blade-fix had allowed for the shift cable to dig into the edge of the housing underneath the ferrule. Problem fixed, but we also discovered that my almost new XT cassette was bent on the second gear, which explains why the chain was hopping in the first place. I sent the cassette back to Shimano for a warranty replacement and if they don’t honor it, you can bet you’ll hear about it right here.
Never in 15 years did I ever change anything on a motorcycle the night before a motorcycle race. I don’t know why I decided to do it differently when it came to bicycles. I deserve the horrible 9th place finish.
Guess what girls? I promise no bicycle or motorcycle stuff in the next posting.
Aug 21, 2002
RIM NORDIC EXPERT 25-29 XC CHAMPION
The title about says it all. Aided partially by the fact that Tony Manzella was absent from the fourth and final round of the Rim Nordic Cross Country Series, I captured my first bicycle racing series championship last Sunday and I managed to do it with a race win. Going into the final I had never finished off the podium at Rim Nordic so my chances of winning the championship were good, even if I posted mediocre results at the final round.
Rim Nordic officials started my class at 11:19 p.m., with the EXP 19-24 division, and right off the start Griffith Vertican went out like a bat out of hell. Another 19-24 EXP latched onto Griffith’s wheel, followed by myself and the rest of the field and that’s all she wrote.
The 7.50-mile course, which we circulated three times, was set up similar to a figure eight with the first quarter of a lap returning to the spectator area for a hair-pin turn before heading up the mountain and out of site. Aaron Gerth and his new neighbor Bob were on hand to give me time splits as Denise provided flawless water bottle transactions at the end of each lap. A quarter of the way through the second lap Aaron informed me that I had 1:20 over second place. In the same spot on the third lap he relayed the news that I had 3:40. At that point I decided to back it off a bit to play it safe and to avoid any chance of dehydration or heat exhaustion, but when final results were posted I still gained over four minutes on the last lap, taking the win by 7:58. I made two appearances on the podium that day; one for the race win and one for the class championship and collected a plaque, trophy and bottle of sparkling cider.
Last year I was not impressed with the Rim Nordic Series and chose to ride only one round. But this year, due to spending a lot of time riding technical trails in the off season and racing a bike (Cannondale Scalpel) perfect for Rim Nordic, I changed my tune after the first event this summer. Each race is well ran and all the race officials are very friendly. For more information go to www.rimnordic.com
DOING A JIG DOWN MEMORY LANE
Driving to work today I popped Dropkick Murphys' Sing Loud, Sing Proud! into the CD player. Seven tracks later and "Good Rats" blares through the speakers. The great Shane MacGowan of Pogues fame, is a guest vocalist on "Good Rats," an Irish drinking song with the perfect blend of mandolin, tin whistle and bagpipes with a punk rock feel. MacGowan has been one of my favorite vocalists for years. I love the sound of his raw and raspy voice that stems from his lack of teeth and years of alcohol and heroin abuse. As years pass his Irish accent has grown even thicker and he's also developed a slur. He was eventually kicked out of the Pogues, not because he did heroin, but because he did too much heroin. Even though I listen to old Pogues and even MacGowan's solo album often, for some reason hearing "Good Rats" this morning reminded me of the first time I ever heard the Pogues and MacGowan's rough voice.
It was also the first time I'd tuned into KUCR, University of Riverside's radio station. It was probably about 1988 and I was sitting in the northwest corner of my bedroom on my black beanbag. I can't remember who told me about KUCR, but more than likely it was some other punk at school like Lisa Kidwell or Evelyn Wooten.
Lisa was more punk than anyone else at Rialto Junior High by a long shot. She was a gutter punk and wore her jet black spiked hair almost identical to the skeleton on one of The Cramps album covers. She claimed that egg whites were the trick. She wore chains and old ripped punk T-shirts that my parents wouldn't have let me bring into the house, much less wear to school . Lisa was so punk that I thought she didn't even have parents and even though I sometimes had classes with her and walked home from school with her I never knew where she lived. Then the rumor got out that she did have parents, but they were foster parents. Later I found out that wasn't true.
Denise and her hated each other because of me. I was obsessed with Denise and apparently Lisa had a thing for me, so naturally she had a problem with Denise. It all came to head one night at Nickelodeon Pizza on Foothill after a Rialto Junior High dance. Lucas Stiles and I went directly home after the dance because we were leaving for a motorcycle race early the next morning, so I wasn't there to witness the drama. Concluding an RJH dance, it was tradition for everyone to go across the street to Nickelodeon and hang out until their parents came to pick them up or until they closed. If you weren't at Nickelodeon after a dance you weren't anybody and if your parents allowed you to stay until closing time (at midnight) you were somebody.
Anyway, probably around 11pm Lisa got in Denise's face and accused Denise of coming in-between Lisa and me. Denise wouldn't even admit to me that she liked me so she certainly wasn't going to admit it to Lisa. So, then Lisa called Denise a liar and in her high-pitched squeaky voice kept repeating, "Why you lying? Why you lying?" Luckily the whole thing went down moments before Denise's step-dad showed up to take her home so no punches were thrown.
About 11:30 p.m. that night the phone rings at my house and it's Denise. She was upset and mad at me and demanded that I call Lisa and tell her to back-off. Actually I was flattered, but there wasn't anything I could do about it until Monday at school. I had a motorcycle race to go to. (See, somehow everything in life is indirectly related to bikes. Had there been no race, I would have been at Nickelodeon and none of this would have happened). Besides I didn't think Lisa had a phone anyway. Hell, I thought she was homeless. Nothing ever materialized because of it, but to this day Denise and I still joke around squeaking, "Why you lying? Why you lying?" For some reason I think it's funnier than Denise does.
About five years ago I ran into Lisa at a show at the Barn in Riverside and she hadn't changed much, but her hair was lot tamer and void of egg whites. Anyway, that's the story of Lisa Kidwell the punk.
Back to the Pogues. At the time KUCR played a lot more punk and what was then considered "alternative music," but I wasn't aware of their programming schedule so that night when I turned the dial to 88.1, farther left than it had ever gone before, it was pure luck. I caught the last two songs in a Pogues set. I can't even remember which songs they were, but I'm sure they were from Rum, Sodomy & the Lash. What I do remember, was MacGowan's voice and the influence of Irish folk music in the two songs I heard. I also remember thinking that the Pogues sounded like music that would've rang from a pirate ship 200 years before. It still sounded so fresh.
A few days after that my mom took me to Kaiser in Fontana to get my allergy shots and after waiting 30 minutes to rule out an allergic reaction, (nurse's orders) we went across Valley Blvd. to Music Land. The place was great because I could find a lot of rare stuff, but that day the only Pogues cassette in stock was Rum, Sodomy & the Lash. Based on the title, there was no way in hell my mom was going to allow that transaction. She went through a Tipper Gore phase in the late '80s that difficult on me. Some kids smuggle drugs and porn into their bedrooms. I smuggled the Dead Kennedys and the Sex Pistols into mine. Later when I got my hands on my first Pogues cassette, Poguerty In Motion, my friends weren't impressed and mom liked the arrangement of the music, but she also held MacGowan's foul language in disdain and disliked his voice for the exact same reason that I loved it.
To this day I still have a hard time selling the Pogues, but every now and then I'm impressed when I encounter someone familiar with them and MacGowan's influence on the old punk scene. Bands like Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly have kind of carried on in the tradition, helping to wave the MacGowan/Pogues flag. And I do my part by writing crap like this.
Freemanrace@aol.com
The title about says it all. Aided partially by the fact that Tony Manzella was absent from the fourth and final round of the Rim Nordic Cross Country Series, I captured my first bicycle racing series championship last Sunday and I managed to do it with a race win. Going into the final I had never finished off the podium at Rim Nordic so my chances of winning the championship were good, even if I posted mediocre results at the final round.
Rim Nordic officials started my class at 11:19 p.m., with the EXP 19-24 division, and right off the start Griffith Vertican went out like a bat out of hell. Another 19-24 EXP latched onto Griffith’s wheel, followed by myself and the rest of the field and that’s all she wrote.
The 7.50-mile course, which we circulated three times, was set up similar to a figure eight with the first quarter of a lap returning to the spectator area for a hair-pin turn before heading up the mountain and out of site. Aaron Gerth and his new neighbor Bob were on hand to give me time splits as Denise provided flawless water bottle transactions at the end of each lap. A quarter of the way through the second lap Aaron informed me that I had 1:20 over second place. In the same spot on the third lap he relayed the news that I had 3:40. At that point I decided to back it off a bit to play it safe and to avoid any chance of dehydration or heat exhaustion, but when final results were posted I still gained over four minutes on the last lap, taking the win by 7:58. I made two appearances on the podium that day; one for the race win and one for the class championship and collected a plaque, trophy and bottle of sparkling cider.
Last year I was not impressed with the Rim Nordic Series and chose to ride only one round. But this year, due to spending a lot of time riding technical trails in the off season and racing a bike (Cannondale Scalpel) perfect for Rim Nordic, I changed my tune after the first event this summer. Each race is well ran and all the race officials are very friendly. For more information go to www.rimnordic.com
DOING A JIG DOWN MEMORY LANE
Driving to work today I popped Dropkick Murphys' Sing Loud, Sing Proud! into the CD player. Seven tracks later and "Good Rats" blares through the speakers. The great Shane MacGowan of Pogues fame, is a guest vocalist on "Good Rats," an Irish drinking song with the perfect blend of mandolin, tin whistle and bagpipes with a punk rock feel. MacGowan has been one of my favorite vocalists for years. I love the sound of his raw and raspy voice that stems from his lack of teeth and years of alcohol and heroin abuse. As years pass his Irish accent has grown even thicker and he's also developed a slur. He was eventually kicked out of the Pogues, not because he did heroin, but because he did too much heroin. Even though I listen to old Pogues and even MacGowan's solo album often, for some reason hearing "Good Rats" this morning reminded me of the first time I ever heard the Pogues and MacGowan's rough voice.
It was also the first time I'd tuned into KUCR, University of Riverside's radio station. It was probably about 1988 and I was sitting in the northwest corner of my bedroom on my black beanbag. I can't remember who told me about KUCR, but more than likely it was some other punk at school like Lisa Kidwell or Evelyn Wooten.
Lisa was more punk than anyone else at Rialto Junior High by a long shot. She was a gutter punk and wore her jet black spiked hair almost identical to the skeleton on one of The Cramps album covers. She claimed that egg whites were the trick. She wore chains and old ripped punk T-shirts that my parents wouldn't have let me bring into the house, much less wear to school . Lisa was so punk that I thought she didn't even have parents and even though I sometimes had classes with her and walked home from school with her I never knew where she lived. Then the rumor got out that she did have parents, but they were foster parents. Later I found out that wasn't true.
Denise and her hated each other because of me. I was obsessed with Denise and apparently Lisa had a thing for me, so naturally she had a problem with Denise. It all came to head one night at Nickelodeon Pizza on Foothill after a Rialto Junior High dance. Lucas Stiles and I went directly home after the dance because we were leaving for a motorcycle race early the next morning, so I wasn't there to witness the drama. Concluding an RJH dance, it was tradition for everyone to go across the street to Nickelodeon and hang out until their parents came to pick them up or until they closed. If you weren't at Nickelodeon after a dance you weren't anybody and if your parents allowed you to stay until closing time (at midnight) you were somebody.
Anyway, probably around 11pm Lisa got in Denise's face and accused Denise of coming in-between Lisa and me. Denise wouldn't even admit to me that she liked me so she certainly wasn't going to admit it to Lisa. So, then Lisa called Denise a liar and in her high-pitched squeaky voice kept repeating, "Why you lying? Why you lying?" Luckily the whole thing went down moments before Denise's step-dad showed up to take her home so no punches were thrown.
About 11:30 p.m. that night the phone rings at my house and it's Denise. She was upset and mad at me and demanded that I call Lisa and tell her to back-off. Actually I was flattered, but there wasn't anything I could do about it until Monday at school. I had a motorcycle race to go to. (See, somehow everything in life is indirectly related to bikes. Had there been no race, I would have been at Nickelodeon and none of this would have happened). Besides I didn't think Lisa had a phone anyway. Hell, I thought she was homeless. Nothing ever materialized because of it, but to this day Denise and I still joke around squeaking, "Why you lying? Why you lying?" For some reason I think it's funnier than Denise does.
About five years ago I ran into Lisa at a show at the Barn in Riverside and she hadn't changed much, but her hair was lot tamer and void of egg whites. Anyway, that's the story of Lisa Kidwell the punk.
Back to the Pogues. At the time KUCR played a lot more punk and what was then considered "alternative music," but I wasn't aware of their programming schedule so that night when I turned the dial to 88.1, farther left than it had ever gone before, it was pure luck. I caught the last two songs in a Pogues set. I can't even remember which songs they were, but I'm sure they were from Rum, Sodomy & the Lash. What I do remember, was MacGowan's voice and the influence of Irish folk music in the two songs I heard. I also remember thinking that the Pogues sounded like music that would've rang from a pirate ship 200 years before. It still sounded so fresh.
A few days after that my mom took me to Kaiser in Fontana to get my allergy shots and after waiting 30 minutes to rule out an allergic reaction, (nurse's orders) we went across Valley Blvd. to Music Land. The place was great because I could find a lot of rare stuff, but that day the only Pogues cassette in stock was Rum, Sodomy & the Lash. Based on the title, there was no way in hell my mom was going to allow that transaction. She went through a Tipper Gore phase in the late '80s that difficult on me. Some kids smuggle drugs and porn into their bedrooms. I smuggled the Dead Kennedys and the Sex Pistols into mine. Later when I got my hands on my first Pogues cassette, Poguerty In Motion, my friends weren't impressed and mom liked the arrangement of the music, but she also held MacGowan's foul language in disdain and disliked his voice for the exact same reason that I loved it.
To this day I still have a hard time selling the Pogues, but every now and then I'm impressed when I encounter someone familiar with them and MacGowan's influence on the old punk scene. Bands like Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly have kind of carried on in the tradition, helping to wave the MacGowan/Pogues flag. And I do my part by writing crap like this.
Freemanrace@aol.com
Aug 15, 2002
Live Better, Ride Whiting
I do a lot of my mid-week training in Lake Forest at the baggy shorts, full-suspension haven known as Whiting Ranch. Once or twice a week I ride there because it's, in my humble opinion, the best ride within a 50-mile radius. The approximate 8-mile loop starts out on a relatively flat two-track, which crosses two streams (with water even) before working its way into a single-track trail void of any ascents.
Before long the one-way trail winds itself to the base of Mustard Hill. From there you have two choices. (A) Turn left and do Extra Credit, a short uphill followed by a fun plunge to Mustard Rd. or (B) Skip Extra Credit and just head straight up Mustard Rd. to the top. Both options end up at the summit, which is known as Four Corners.
Four Corners is a popular resting spot and on Wednesdays you can't swing a dead cat without hitting some guy or girl riding an Intense or a GT I-drive and wearing a hydration pack large enough to take on an Everest expedition. By no means do you need a full-suspension bike at Whiting, but because FS bikes are all the craze right now, the place is crawling with them, literally. I'd estimate that 70% of the people that ride Whiting on Wednesdays ONLY ride on Wednesdays and that's why they bob, bonk and walk their way to the top of Mustard Hill even though it's not much of a climb. They need to suffer less with their bank account and more with their bike. If half of them would trade their 32-pound $2000 FS bike in for a cheaper 28-pound hard tail they'd ride Mustard with a lot less effort and they'd have enough money left over to buy some Lycra. (At least they're out riding, Denise reminds me. And she's right)
Anyway, my point is this - Whiting is an awesome place to ride whether you ride everyday or just once a week. Mustard Hill is the only climb of note and even then, it's short. All other trails flow like a rollercoaster under a canopy of trees and if you're a single guy (Aaron, Trevor & Nathan!) there are plenty of female mountain bikers and trail runners strutting their stuff and wearing sports bras. That should be reason enough for you to come out and ride!
My Reason for Hating the Word "Swag"
Thursday during a phone conversation with Aaron I was complaining all about the Motorcyclist Magazine awards dinner I had to attend that night at the Oakley headquarters in Foothill Ranch. Knowing how much I hate that type of stuff, Aaron replied, "You love all that shmoozing and I bet you'll get some swag out if it." He also knows I hate the word "swag."
During a trip to Monterey for the Sea Otter - he, Terry, Denise and myself all had a conversation about swag. Someone (I'm not pointing fingers) was excited about strolling through the vendor area to score some swag. As I cringed Denise broke the news, informing them that I hated the word "swag" and the whole concept behind it. So, throughout the rest of the trip Terry and Aaron kept telling me how they were hoping to get some swag here or find some swag there (it should be noted that Terry got no swag from the GT booth). It was swag this and swag that - the whole damn weekend.
Let me back up. There are a few reasons why I hate swag. I like free stuff. Who doesn't? But when you work in the motorcycle industry and you're at an event and every loud mouth from the street comes up with his hand out - it kind of gets old. I remember when stickers and posters were enough. Not anymore. Now they want free non-paper, non-adhesive products like hats, goggles, t-shirts and jackets. I don't mind giving out stuff to kids or even promotional-type items like key chains, foam fingers and a frisbee here and there. It's when the drunk guy in the pits at a Supercross race wants the hat off my head or the shirt off my back - give me a break. That's just plain greedy. Everybody expects something for nothing. (The irony is, I currently work in PR)
Back to the present. Aaron and I discussed the correct spelling of the word "swag" and we finally established its correct spelling (as you've seen it throughout this posting). I hung up the phone and just for the hell of it reached for my 1978 New Edition Pocket Oxford Dictionary and was delighted to find the following on page 919:
swag n. (Representation of) ornamental festoon of flowers
I'm willing to bet that if every motorcycle-jersey wearing drunk sporting a mullet - knew that the noun "swag" really was a festoon of flowers - he probably wouldn't be walking around the pits anymore with his hands cupped together like he was begging for change outside a 7-11. So, quit talking about swag! Refer to it in the old fashion sense, as in "give-aways" or "prizes" or "hand-outs" and be happy with a sticker!
And by the way, for those of you who were wondering, a festoon is a chain of flowers or ribbons hung in a curve between two points. How nice. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get a festoon of something as a parting gift from Oakley and Motorcyclist Magazine.
Freemanrace@aol.com
I do a lot of my mid-week training in Lake Forest at the baggy shorts, full-suspension haven known as Whiting Ranch. Once or twice a week I ride there because it's, in my humble opinion, the best ride within a 50-mile radius. The approximate 8-mile loop starts out on a relatively flat two-track, which crosses two streams (with water even) before working its way into a single-track trail void of any ascents.
Before long the one-way trail winds itself to the base of Mustard Hill. From there you have two choices. (A) Turn left and do Extra Credit, a short uphill followed by a fun plunge to Mustard Rd. or (B) Skip Extra Credit and just head straight up Mustard Rd. to the top. Both options end up at the summit, which is known as Four Corners.
Four Corners is a popular resting spot and on Wednesdays you can't swing a dead cat without hitting some guy or girl riding an Intense or a GT I-drive and wearing a hydration pack large enough to take on an Everest expedition. By no means do you need a full-suspension bike at Whiting, but because FS bikes are all the craze right now, the place is crawling with them, literally. I'd estimate that 70% of the people that ride Whiting on Wednesdays ONLY ride on Wednesdays and that's why they bob, bonk and walk their way to the top of Mustard Hill even though it's not much of a climb. They need to suffer less with their bank account and more with their bike. If half of them would trade their 32-pound $2000 FS bike in for a cheaper 28-pound hard tail they'd ride Mustard with a lot less effort and they'd have enough money left over to buy some Lycra. (At least they're out riding, Denise reminds me. And she's right)
Anyway, my point is this - Whiting is an awesome place to ride whether you ride everyday or just once a week. Mustard Hill is the only climb of note and even then, it's short. All other trails flow like a rollercoaster under a canopy of trees and if you're a single guy (Aaron, Trevor & Nathan!) there are plenty of female mountain bikers and trail runners strutting their stuff and wearing sports bras. That should be reason enough for you to come out and ride!
My Reason for Hating the Word "Swag"
Thursday during a phone conversation with Aaron I was complaining all about the Motorcyclist Magazine awards dinner I had to attend that night at the Oakley headquarters in Foothill Ranch. Knowing how much I hate that type of stuff, Aaron replied, "You love all that shmoozing and I bet you'll get some swag out if it." He also knows I hate the word "swag."
During a trip to Monterey for the Sea Otter - he, Terry, Denise and myself all had a conversation about swag. Someone (I'm not pointing fingers) was excited about strolling through the vendor area to score some swag. As I cringed Denise broke the news, informing them that I hated the word "swag" and the whole concept behind it. So, throughout the rest of the trip Terry and Aaron kept telling me how they were hoping to get some swag here or find some swag there (it should be noted that Terry got no swag from the GT booth). It was swag this and swag that - the whole damn weekend.
Let me back up. There are a few reasons why I hate swag. I like free stuff. Who doesn't? But when you work in the motorcycle industry and you're at an event and every loud mouth from the street comes up with his hand out - it kind of gets old. I remember when stickers and posters were enough. Not anymore. Now they want free non-paper, non-adhesive products like hats, goggles, t-shirts and jackets. I don't mind giving out stuff to kids or even promotional-type items like key chains, foam fingers and a frisbee here and there. It's when the drunk guy in the pits at a Supercross race wants the hat off my head or the shirt off my back - give me a break. That's just plain greedy. Everybody expects something for nothing. (The irony is, I currently work in PR)
Back to the present. Aaron and I discussed the correct spelling of the word "swag" and we finally established its correct spelling (as you've seen it throughout this posting). I hung up the phone and just for the hell of it reached for my 1978 New Edition Pocket Oxford Dictionary and was delighted to find the following on page 919:
swag n. (Representation of) ornamental festoon of flowers
I'm willing to bet that if every motorcycle-jersey wearing drunk sporting a mullet - knew that the noun "swag" really was a festoon of flowers - he probably wouldn't be walking around the pits anymore with his hands cupped together like he was begging for change outside a 7-11. So, quit talking about swag! Refer to it in the old fashion sense, as in "give-aways" or "prizes" or "hand-outs" and be happy with a sticker!
And by the way, for those of you who were wondering, a festoon is a chain of flowers or ribbons hung in a curve between two points. How nice. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get a festoon of something as a parting gift from Oakley and Motorcyclist Magazine.
Freemanrace@aol.com
Aug 14, 2002
Suffering Heat Exhaustion, Rosie & Sheryl Crow
It doesn't get much worse than that
Stick a Fork In Me...
Six hours and 60 miles into the Team Big Bear 12-Hours of Snow Summit and I was cooked. The 30-or so solo class idiots (Titanium, Team Big Bear calls us) took off at 7:30 Saturday morning to embark on a dozen hours of high-altitude racing on a ten-mile course that traveled (are your ready for this?) to the summit of Snow Summit. Each fun-filled lap started at lodge level, went up Fern Trail to 2N10, right onto Pirates of the Caribbean, back on to 2N10 and up to the View House before heading down trails like Ole' National Hike-a-bike and Towne Trail and then back to the parking lot for anothe lap. And another and another.
I took only six trips to the top of the mountain before breaking down in a pile of my own dehydrated, saltless, sweatless self. To make a long story somewhat shorter (six hours exactly), I went out too fast and too hard, trying to keep pace with three other crazies in front of me that did the same. One of them was able to keep the pace up, posting an amazing 12 laps before it was all said and done. Normally, I'd like to shake the hand of a man like that, but since it was him that helped do me in, I'll pass.
Chalk the entire miserable experience up to not hydrating and sleeping enough the week prior, not pacing myself and not allowing myself enough time off work to prepare before hand. I won't go into detail about who won the two-man or four-man divisions and who was present because I don't remember it too clearly. It was like having a concusion and a hangover at the same time.
I would like to thank Denise, my Dad and Rob Bock for coming up to support me in the 95-degree heat. Also thanks to Aaron Gerth for preparing my bikes. Ultimately they probably saved my life because I was convinced that resting from about 1:30 PM to 3:30 PM would be enough for me to get back on the bike and post a respectable finish. Based on my slurred speach, goose bumps and the fact that I was curled up in the fetal position, they convinced me that I was done. And so did the medic, who kind of (just a tad) reminded me of the school bus driver on South Park. Or maybe I was delirious.
The Hypocrisy Contiunes
This Advertising Age magazine article from the July 2002 issue speaks for itself:
"...five years ago, when its Scope brand [mouth wash] named talk-show host Rosie O'Donnell to a list of the 10-least-kiss-able celebrities. Ms. O'Donnell later launched a "just say nope to Scope" campaign and urged viewers to buy rival Listerine. With some wooing - including a $2 million donation on behalf of P & G Pantene brand [Scope's parent company] to Ms. O'Donnell's foundation for children - Ms. O'Donnell later endorsed White Strips [a P & G Pantene Product]."
I wonder - what if the National Rifle Association made a similar donation? I bet Rosie would be singing the praises of Winchester, Smith & Wesson, Tom Selleck & President Chuck Heston then. Hmm...
She Likes a Good Beer Buzz Early in the Morning
What else does she sing?
When all of a sudden did Sheryl Crow gain legendary star status? She's been a recognizable solo act for approximately six years and her credentials are good enough to headline for opening act Fleetwood Mac (or what's left of them). I've never been a fan of Sheryl Crow, who walks around like she's been part of the Hollywood elite since Dean Martin. My most recent problem with her regards her latest single, "Steve McQueen." She's obviously not much for detail when writing lyrics because the chorus reads, "Like Steve McQueen, all I need's a fast machine..."
Sorry Sheryl, but in addition to a fast machine, the Steve McQueen I'm familiar with needed a bottle of bourbon, some dope, the Bible and at least two lady friends. Hmm...
91 Freeway Report
Yesterday "World's Greatest Dad" cut me off.
And later on I saw a woman driving a Honda hybrid flick a cigarette out her window. I found that mildly ironic.
QUOTE:
"I like to crush their egos." - Bobby Fischer, age 10, chess master
Aug 6, 2002
I've got no bicycle or motorcycle stuff to report, but what I do have is termites! The female exterminator, who coincidentally was petite enough to fit into a attic crawl space the size of my computer monitor, found the little devils in one of my favorite man-made structures - my garage. The horror! That's like Rosie O'Donnell finding a fly in her Quarter-pounder with cheese. The good news is that Ms. Exterminator, who also was the spitting image of Sissy Spacik, only found traces of the little bastards in the west wall. The bad news and the real tragedy is that I was forced to rip out the sano peg board, that three of our many bicycles hang upon, until the exterminator can fumigate. Now the garage is a wreck and the bikes have no home. I think I'll move the bikes into the living room for the time being. I guess indirectly everything has something to do with bicycles or motorcycles. Even termites.
Congrats
To Adam and Venette Spik, who where married on Wednesday, July 31 in Hawaii. According to Adam, his bride was going to sport a scabbed leg on the alter due to a nasty mountain bike crash suffered a couple weeks before the wedding. Hopefully Adam was gentle while removing the garter and didn't rip off the scab prematurely.
I believe they're back on the mainland now preparing for their reception in Riverside this Sunday.
Happy Birthday
To Mark Foist, who turns 40 this week. Mark's mid-life crisis consists of competing in marathons, triathalons and drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade at Jerseys in Redlands on Tuesday nights. Mark's part of the 38 to 40-year-old hardcore crowd that I seem to spend so much of my time with. Also turning 40 this year (or coming damn close) is jack-of-all trades Aaron Gerth, motorcycle ironman Rick Daniel & the eyes and ears of Park View Middle School Terry Moreno. Then there's Steve Gildea, who got nailed by a car while riding his road bike on a Tuesday and was riding his mountain bike again as soon as the next weekend. In Orange County my 40-club consists of mountain bikers Forrest Hayashi, Mark Thome & Paul Carruthers. And I can't forget my good friend Pocher, who actually turned 40 a few years ago and now resides in Salida, CO. He spends his time designing sub divisions, restoring churches & dragging his KTM 520 EXC out of the Colorado wilderness.
That's a lot of baby boomers. I hope I'm as tough as they are when I turn 30, much less 40. Oh, yah guys. By the way, I heard Foreigner is the guest band on Mohr Sports tonight.
What 35 Bucks will get you at the KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion at Blockbuster Pavilion in Devore
The final nail in the coffin of punk rock was painfully set this week when the line-up for the heavily publicized KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion was announced. I'm not going down the list of every pathetic band on the bill, but lets just say the amount of hypocrisy that will fill the Blockbuster stage will be at an all-time high. It's ironic that many of the same bands that preached nonconformity & anti-commercialism for nearly two decades have resulted to an event that will feature the "Sex Pistols Pepsi Encore" and the "Cingular Wireless Offspring Sing-Along." Here's what else you're likely to see or hear:
1. Unwritten Law, New Found Glory and Blink 182 all paying homage to older appearing bands like the "Sex Pistols", Bad Religion, Social Distortion, The Damned, The Buzzcocks & Adolescents, by saying something like, "It's a real honor to perform on the same stage as (insert name of once honorable punk band here)."
2. Mike Ness of Social Distortion will mostly likely go off on a tangent about how he used to be a teenage heroin addict and how he hung out with pimps, winos, hookers & drug dealers. Then he'll say how he feels right at home in Devore and in the Inland Empire because he too is (self-proclaimed) white trash. And the audience will cheer.
3. You'll hear entertaining and at times good music, but you'll also have to hear the Offspring.
4. Pennywise will play two to three moderately entertaining cover songs of old-school punk orgin.
5. The worst and most embarrassing act is sure to be the return of the "Sex Pistols." Johnny Lydon or Rotten (whatever he calls himself these days) is sure to make a complete ass of himself and I wouldn't be surprised if he started a mini riot targeting the yellow windbreaker secruity thugs, who took the gig in the first place so they could see the Offspring without paying the 35 bucks.
6. And last, but certainly not least - the ticket paying public. Where do I begin? Drunk girls, drunk guys, freaks with piercings, freaks removing their shirts, lighting them on fire and swinging them around above their heads, freaks ripping the seats out of the pavilion, freaks fighting, freaks moshing (not pogoing), freaks with lighters, freaks with drugs, freaks passed out, freaks consuming funnel cake, freaks wearing the t-shirt of one of the bands appearing that night and my favorite - freaks that leave after the Offspring is done playing.
Brace yourself when the ground trembles because there's a lot of dead punks soon to be rolling over in their graves. The KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion will further support the theory that Shane MacGowan, Jello Biafra and Ian McKye are the only real & genuine punks still around. All these other sell-outs should be beaten over the head with William Burroughs' cane, including Social D & Bad Religion.
I hate to end a posting on such a sour note so I'll add that Nathan Hughes just informed me that he inked a deal with a Chevrolet dealership that will see Nathan living in Muscoy for the rest of us life. I don't have the exact details of the contract yet, but it has something to do with a new Chevy Tahoe.
Congrats
To Adam and Venette Spik, who where married on Wednesday, July 31 in Hawaii. According to Adam, his bride was going to sport a scabbed leg on the alter due to a nasty mountain bike crash suffered a couple weeks before the wedding. Hopefully Adam was gentle while removing the garter and didn't rip off the scab prematurely.
I believe they're back on the mainland now preparing for their reception in Riverside this Sunday.
Happy Birthday
To Mark Foist, who turns 40 this week. Mark's mid-life crisis consists of competing in marathons, triathalons and drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade at Jerseys in Redlands on Tuesday nights. Mark's part of the 38 to 40-year-old hardcore crowd that I seem to spend so much of my time with. Also turning 40 this year (or coming damn close) is jack-of-all trades Aaron Gerth, motorcycle ironman Rick Daniel & the eyes and ears of Park View Middle School Terry Moreno. Then there's Steve Gildea, who got nailed by a car while riding his road bike on a Tuesday and was riding his mountain bike again as soon as the next weekend. In Orange County my 40-club consists of mountain bikers Forrest Hayashi, Mark Thome & Paul Carruthers. And I can't forget my good friend Pocher, who actually turned 40 a few years ago and now resides in Salida, CO. He spends his time designing sub divisions, restoring churches & dragging his KTM 520 EXC out of the Colorado wilderness.
That's a lot of baby boomers. I hope I'm as tough as they are when I turn 30, much less 40. Oh, yah guys. By the way, I heard Foreigner is the guest band on Mohr Sports tonight.
What 35 Bucks will get you at the KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion at Blockbuster Pavilion in Devore
The final nail in the coffin of punk rock was painfully set this week when the line-up for the heavily publicized KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion was announced. I'm not going down the list of every pathetic band on the bill, but lets just say the amount of hypocrisy that will fill the Blockbuster stage will be at an all-time high. It's ironic that many of the same bands that preached nonconformity & anti-commercialism for nearly two decades have resulted to an event that will feature the "Sex Pistols Pepsi Encore" and the "Cingular Wireless Offspring Sing-Along." Here's what else you're likely to see or hear:
1. Unwritten Law, New Found Glory and Blink 182 all paying homage to older appearing bands like the "Sex Pistols", Bad Religion, Social Distortion, The Damned, The Buzzcocks & Adolescents, by saying something like, "It's a real honor to perform on the same stage as (insert name of once honorable punk band here)."
2. Mike Ness of Social Distortion will mostly likely go off on a tangent about how he used to be a teenage heroin addict and how he hung out with pimps, winos, hookers & drug dealers. Then he'll say how he feels right at home in Devore and in the Inland Empire because he too is (self-proclaimed) white trash. And the audience will cheer.
3. You'll hear entertaining and at times good music, but you'll also have to hear the Offspring.
4. Pennywise will play two to three moderately entertaining cover songs of old-school punk orgin.
5. The worst and most embarrassing act is sure to be the return of the "Sex Pistols." Johnny Lydon or Rotten (whatever he calls himself these days) is sure to make a complete ass of himself and I wouldn't be surprised if he started a mini riot targeting the yellow windbreaker secruity thugs, who took the gig in the first place so they could see the Offspring without paying the 35 bucks.
6. And last, but certainly not least - the ticket paying public. Where do I begin? Drunk girls, drunk guys, freaks with piercings, freaks removing their shirts, lighting them on fire and swinging them around above their heads, freaks ripping the seats out of the pavilion, freaks fighting, freaks moshing (not pogoing), freaks with lighters, freaks with drugs, freaks passed out, freaks consuming funnel cake, freaks wearing the t-shirt of one of the bands appearing that night and my favorite - freaks that leave after the Offspring is done playing.
Brace yourself when the ground trembles because there's a lot of dead punks soon to be rolling over in their graves. The KROQ/Levi's Inland Invasion will further support the theory that Shane MacGowan, Jello Biafra and Ian McKye are the only real & genuine punks still around. All these other sell-outs should be beaten over the head with William Burroughs' cane, including Social D & Bad Religion.
I hate to end a posting on such a sour note so I'll add that Nathan Hughes just informed me that he inked a deal with a Chevrolet dealership that will see Nathan living in Muscoy for the rest of us life. I don't have the exact details of the contract yet, but it has something to do with a new Chevy Tahoe.
Jul 31, 2002
2000 TOUR OF GERMANY RUNNER-UP UPS THE ANTE ON SUNSET
Saturn Cycling's Soren Peterson Shows up on Tuesday night
I didn't know who he was when he first rolled up, but I could tell that he was from Saturn/Lemond's professional road cycling team. There were a number of hints that would lead one to believe that this guy was the real deal: his titanium Lemond frame (equipped with Dura-Ace components, his clean & bright Saturn Cycling bib and jersey, his 150-pound, 6-foot physique and his accent. It was after the ride that I signed on to www.saturncycling.com and discovered that he was Soren Peterson. His recent results include third in the General Classification at the 2002 Redlands Bicycle Classic. His best day was in the Oak Glen Road Race (ouch!), where he finished third being World XC Champion Rohland Green and event winner Chris Horner. I'm still more impressed by his Tour of Germany runner-up finish.
Actual turnout was a little low (about 35) and the Vertican brothers, who tend to set & control the pace were absent. (They went to Durango for the NORBA Nat'l.) The pace started out slower than usual and I was fine with that even though I was aboard a featherweight carbon fiber Trek 5900 that a friend lended me. It was only my second ride (first Tuesday night) on the Lance Armstrong replica, but I was mentally and physically prepared to do it justice by putting in a respectable effort. With the Vertican's absence I saw the opportunity to advance myself in the pecking order. As the ride contiuned no one attacked and everyone seemed to be fine with that, although we still dropped a lot of people before peaking Sunset on the first go-around. The lack of an attack actually made me nervous because it meant everyone in our seven-man break was saving their legs and lungs for a massive surge on the third lap. And even worse, just before starting our third lap we added three fresh pair of legs or our break. Three riders, one each from Jelly Belly, Cycle-Tek & 7UP must have gotten a late start because they were waiting for us. When I saw them I immediately thought, "Damn, those guys are fresh and they're going to blow us to bits." Their legs may have been fresh, but they were also cold because it didn't take long before we dropped them too.
After passing Caroline Park Josh Underwood took over the lead and I took his wheel, sitting in a perfect spot to react to a Peterson attack. I was beginning to feel a little guilty for not taking over the workload, but I had already done my part and was saving myselft for whatever may occur. Waiting, waiting, waiting. . . Nothing. Then Josh pulled to the left to signal that he was done and I was left with no choice but to take over. 30 seconds later I heard gears clicking up and Peterson and a Jelly Belly hammered by in big ring. I quickly responded and followed, tyring to stay on the Jelly Belly's wheel. I did, but he couldn't stay on Peterson's wheel so he waved me by and I tried for myself. With a gap of about two bike lengths between Peterson and myself, the gentleman Saturn rider from Denmark looked back, acknowledged us, and then skipped a few pedal strokes allowing myself and the Jelly Belly to catch up. From there the three of us tempoed to the top of Sunset, followed shortly by Josh, Trevor Walton, Austin Mortimer, and couple Trek/VW and Jelly Belly riders. About thirty other riders, who had only completed two loops waited for us at the usual regrouping point on the corner of Sunset and Alta Vista.
I opted to skip the rough and bumpy ride down Live Oak and San Tim Canyons to salvage the race wheels on my borrowed Trek. I already love that bike.
It was my best Sunset performance ever and learning a little bit more about the Saturn rider whose wheel I rode made it even sweeter. Had I known who he was at the actual time of the ride, it probably would have freaked me out mentally and I would have allowed myself to get dropped. It's starting to seem like road bikes agree with me more than mountain bikes. . .
QUOTE
"I don't have ulcers. I give 'em!" - Lyndon B. Johnson
freemanrace@aol.com
Saturn Cycling's Soren Peterson Shows up on Tuesday night
I didn't know who he was when he first rolled up, but I could tell that he was from Saturn/Lemond's professional road cycling team. There were a number of hints that would lead one to believe that this guy was the real deal: his titanium Lemond frame (equipped with Dura-Ace components, his clean & bright Saturn Cycling bib and jersey, his 150-pound, 6-foot physique and his accent. It was after the ride that I signed on to www.saturncycling.com and discovered that he was Soren Peterson. His recent results include third in the General Classification at the 2002 Redlands Bicycle Classic. His best day was in the Oak Glen Road Race (ouch!), where he finished third being World XC Champion Rohland Green and event winner Chris Horner. I'm still more impressed by his Tour of Germany runner-up finish.
Actual turnout was a little low (about 35) and the Vertican brothers, who tend to set & control the pace were absent. (They went to Durango for the NORBA Nat'l.) The pace started out slower than usual and I was fine with that even though I was aboard a featherweight carbon fiber Trek 5900 that a friend lended me. It was only my second ride (first Tuesday night) on the Lance Armstrong replica, but I was mentally and physically prepared to do it justice by putting in a respectable effort. With the Vertican's absence I saw the opportunity to advance myself in the pecking order. As the ride contiuned no one attacked and everyone seemed to be fine with that, although we still dropped a lot of people before peaking Sunset on the first go-around. The lack of an attack actually made me nervous because it meant everyone in our seven-man break was saving their legs and lungs for a massive surge on the third lap. And even worse, just before starting our third lap we added three fresh pair of legs or our break. Three riders, one each from Jelly Belly, Cycle-Tek & 7UP must have gotten a late start because they were waiting for us. When I saw them I immediately thought, "Damn, those guys are fresh and they're going to blow us to bits." Their legs may have been fresh, but they were also cold because it didn't take long before we dropped them too.
After passing Caroline Park Josh Underwood took over the lead and I took his wheel, sitting in a perfect spot to react to a Peterson attack. I was beginning to feel a little guilty for not taking over the workload, but I had already done my part and was saving myselft for whatever may occur. Waiting, waiting, waiting. . . Nothing. Then Josh pulled to the left to signal that he was done and I was left with no choice but to take over. 30 seconds later I heard gears clicking up and Peterson and a Jelly Belly hammered by in big ring. I quickly responded and followed, tyring to stay on the Jelly Belly's wheel. I did, but he couldn't stay on Peterson's wheel so he waved me by and I tried for myself. With a gap of about two bike lengths between Peterson and myself, the gentleman Saturn rider from Denmark looked back, acknowledged us, and then skipped a few pedal strokes allowing myself and the Jelly Belly to catch up. From there the three of us tempoed to the top of Sunset, followed shortly by Josh, Trevor Walton, Austin Mortimer, and couple Trek/VW and Jelly Belly riders. About thirty other riders, who had only completed two loops waited for us at the usual regrouping point on the corner of Sunset and Alta Vista.
I opted to skip the rough and bumpy ride down Live Oak and San Tim Canyons to salvage the race wheels on my borrowed Trek. I already love that bike.
It was my best Sunset performance ever and learning a little bit more about the Saturn rider whose wheel I rode made it even sweeter. Had I known who he was at the actual time of the ride, it probably would have freaked me out mentally and I would have allowed myself to get dropped. It's starting to seem like road bikes agree with me more than mountain bikes. . .
QUOTE
"I don't have ulcers. I give 'em!" - Lyndon B. Johnson
freemanrace@aol.com
Jul 30, 2002
RIM NORDIC MOUNTAIN STAGE RACE - JULY 27-28
(Round 3)
The Beatings Continue
"I was waiting for the awards after the last CA State race at Snow Summit and I looked over at you sitting with your parents and you just shook your head. I thought, he's probably thinking, 'Man, what a sand bagger.'" - Tony Manzella refering to the recent beatings he's been putting on me and the rest of the Expert 25-29 XC class. Actually I wasn't shaking my head so much as I was turning it back and forth like one does after drinking sour milk. I was trying to fight off the dreadful leg cramps brought on by the 30-mile (100-degree) race that we'd just completed (some of us faster than others).
I won't lie. I would like for Tony to bump up to Semi-Pro for the next year and even if he doesn't I sort of understand because that step requires a whole lot more of a commitment than most people are willing to give. And I don't really think he's a sand bagger either. He's a nice guy and admits that his performance in 2001 was not even close to the results he's been posting this year. He attributes his success to long road rides in the winter to build up a good base.
Well, Tony's long winter road rides paid off again last weekend at round three of the Rim Nordic XC Series in Running Springs. The event doubled as Mountain Stage Race, which consisted of a Hill Climb and Dirt Crit on Saturday and a 22-mile XC race on Sunday. Awards were given three-deep in each category for the Stage Race and for just the XC.
HILL CLIMB
1.75 miles can seem like 11 minutes
The night before I took the computer off of my Cannondale Scalpel and what a mistake that was. Posted as only a 1.75-mile climb, I now wish I would have had the computer to help pace myself a little faster because the race was so short. The Pro, Semi-Pro and Experts all started at the same time and the first half-mile was actually flat or downhill, so you can only imagine how bad the dust was. I felt like I was desert again and not because I got a bad start. As the fire road tilted upward I began to make my move passing riders one by one, however as the race progressed the fire road turned into singletrack, making it very difficult to pass on. At one point I looked up and saw three riders that I was gaining on at a fast rate. I thought to myself, "Okay, I'll get these guys just around the next corner, no problem." There was a problem - that being that around the next corner was the finish line. Doh! You see, had I not removed my computer, I would have known that I had little time to waste and would have been able to track my milage. The big surprise was that Paul Freiwald beat Tony Manzella in Exp 25-29. I finished third. Coincidentally, a young Texan by the name of Dana Weber racing Semi-Pro won the overall.
DIRT CRIT (a.k.a. Short Track)
15 minutes plus three laps can seem like eternity
We (the Pro, Semi-Pro, Exp 25-29 & Exp 19-24) sat and waited as Rim Nordic organizers ran all the Beginner, Sport and older Expert class Dirt Crits first. Deteremined to get a better start than I did earlier in the day in the Hill Climb, I got to the starting line early gambling that a good warm-up was less important than a good start. When we finally did start I went out hard and I went out fast, sitting approximately sixth from the front, which Jasen Thorpe was controlling quite nicely I might add. He would slow down the pace in the back section of the course. He later told me that he was accelerating out of the turns to tire everyone out, but I didn't really notice. What I did notice was that I was leading my class and that there was no one directly behind me. We rode Jasen's wheel for a few laps before the guy in front of me started to come off and he did it in a most unfortunate place of the course. For the most part, the course was good, however there were a few spots were it was nearly impossible to pass and as he created a gap between himself and the rest of the field, I ventured around him into the sand trying to close the gap he created. Meanwhile, Jasen's pace was too much for a few others up front and they began to crack and the entire blew wide open. I blew up trying to close the gap, Griffith Vertican, who can normally hang with nearly anyone on a mountain, fell off and guys that weren't even up front at the start began to pull us in. In the end I finished third in class again because Tony went by with Paul on his wheel with about three laps remaining. Tony held on for the class win and the Texan won the overall event with Jasen finishing second.
XC
Traction is always nice, but so is not flatting
You hate to capitalize off of someone else's misfortune, but that's why I run a lot of air in my tires, especially at Rim Nordic. I've been feeling tired and fatigued and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm not up to the pace that Paul and Tony were setting all weekend, so when I passed Paul on the side of the trail, the victim of a flat, half way through the first of three 7-something mile laps - I picked up the pace. Less than a mile earlier I had passed two other guys in my class and had a pretty good ideal that I was in third. I had also caught a glance at Tony up ahead, but not too far, so I knew I was in a good spot to be. The last thing I wanted to do was let Paul fix his flat and then bridge back up to me. So I rode fast and steady, but never saw Tony again. I think he may have been thinking the same thing. As it turns out he finished five minutes ahead of me with a time of 1:46:16 to my 1:51:48. Our times would have put us fourth and seventh in the Semi-Pro class out of 11. Pro racer Garner Vertican had the fastest time of the day with 1:39:something. He took home $75 for his effort.
Stage race results were tallied up and Tony actually would have won the overall if Rim Nordic would have scored it that way. Instead it was scored by class so I took third. Webber, the Texan DNFed the XC race so Jasen took Semi-Pro honors.
For more information about Rim Nordic or the Running Springs trail system visit www.rimnordic.com
(Round 3)
The Beatings Continue
"I was waiting for the awards after the last CA State race at Snow Summit and I looked over at you sitting with your parents and you just shook your head. I thought, he's probably thinking, 'Man, what a sand bagger.'" - Tony Manzella refering to the recent beatings he's been putting on me and the rest of the Expert 25-29 XC class. Actually I wasn't shaking my head so much as I was turning it back and forth like one does after drinking sour milk. I was trying to fight off the dreadful leg cramps brought on by the 30-mile (100-degree) race that we'd just completed (some of us faster than others).
I won't lie. I would like for Tony to bump up to Semi-Pro for the next year and even if he doesn't I sort of understand because that step requires a whole lot more of a commitment than most people are willing to give. And I don't really think he's a sand bagger either. He's a nice guy and admits that his performance in 2001 was not even close to the results he's been posting this year. He attributes his success to long road rides in the winter to build up a good base.
Well, Tony's long winter road rides paid off again last weekend at round three of the Rim Nordic XC Series in Running Springs. The event doubled as Mountain Stage Race, which consisted of a Hill Climb and Dirt Crit on Saturday and a 22-mile XC race on Sunday. Awards were given three-deep in each category for the Stage Race and for just the XC.
HILL CLIMB
1.75 miles can seem like 11 minutes
The night before I took the computer off of my Cannondale Scalpel and what a mistake that was. Posted as only a 1.75-mile climb, I now wish I would have had the computer to help pace myself a little faster because the race was so short. The Pro, Semi-Pro and Experts all started at the same time and the first half-mile was actually flat or downhill, so you can only imagine how bad the dust was. I felt like I was desert again and not because I got a bad start. As the fire road tilted upward I began to make my move passing riders one by one, however as the race progressed the fire road turned into singletrack, making it very difficult to pass on. At one point I looked up and saw three riders that I was gaining on at a fast rate. I thought to myself, "Okay, I'll get these guys just around the next corner, no problem." There was a problem - that being that around the next corner was the finish line. Doh! You see, had I not removed my computer, I would have known that I had little time to waste and would have been able to track my milage. The big surprise was that Paul Freiwald beat Tony Manzella in Exp 25-29. I finished third. Coincidentally, a young Texan by the name of Dana Weber racing Semi-Pro won the overall.
DIRT CRIT (a.k.a. Short Track)
15 minutes plus three laps can seem like eternity
We (the Pro, Semi-Pro, Exp 25-29 & Exp 19-24) sat and waited as Rim Nordic organizers ran all the Beginner, Sport and older Expert class Dirt Crits first. Deteremined to get a better start than I did earlier in the day in the Hill Climb, I got to the starting line early gambling that a good warm-up was less important than a good start. When we finally did start I went out hard and I went out fast, sitting approximately sixth from the front, which Jasen Thorpe was controlling quite nicely I might add. He would slow down the pace in the back section of the course. He later told me that he was accelerating out of the turns to tire everyone out, but I didn't really notice. What I did notice was that I was leading my class and that there was no one directly behind me. We rode Jasen's wheel for a few laps before the guy in front of me started to come off and he did it in a most unfortunate place of the course. For the most part, the course was good, however there were a few spots were it was nearly impossible to pass and as he created a gap between himself and the rest of the field, I ventured around him into the sand trying to close the gap he created. Meanwhile, Jasen's pace was too much for a few others up front and they began to crack and the entire blew wide open. I blew up trying to close the gap, Griffith Vertican, who can normally hang with nearly anyone on a mountain, fell off and guys that weren't even up front at the start began to pull us in. In the end I finished third in class again because Tony went by with Paul on his wheel with about three laps remaining. Tony held on for the class win and the Texan won the overall event with Jasen finishing second.
XC
Traction is always nice, but so is not flatting
You hate to capitalize off of someone else's misfortune, but that's why I run a lot of air in my tires, especially at Rim Nordic. I've been feeling tired and fatigued and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm not up to the pace that Paul and Tony were setting all weekend, so when I passed Paul on the side of the trail, the victim of a flat, half way through the first of three 7-something mile laps - I picked up the pace. Less than a mile earlier I had passed two other guys in my class and had a pretty good ideal that I was in third. I had also caught a glance at Tony up ahead, but not too far, so I knew I was in a good spot to be. The last thing I wanted to do was let Paul fix his flat and then bridge back up to me. So I rode fast and steady, but never saw Tony again. I think he may have been thinking the same thing. As it turns out he finished five minutes ahead of me with a time of 1:46:16 to my 1:51:48. Our times would have put us fourth and seventh in the Semi-Pro class out of 11. Pro racer Garner Vertican had the fastest time of the day with 1:39:something. He took home $75 for his effort.
Stage race results were tallied up and Tony actually would have won the overall if Rim Nordic would have scored it that way. Instead it was scored by class so I took third. Webber, the Texan DNFed the XC race so Jasen took Semi-Pro honors.
For more information about Rim Nordic or the Running Springs trail system visit www.rimnordic.com
Jul 29, 2002
QUOTE
"You probably thought you'd died and gone to heaven." - Denise, after I described the motorcycle, bicycle and punk rock decor that laced the walls of the Mountain Bike Magazine Burbank office.
"Jesus is da' bomb."
The sticker attached to the rear window of the Dodge Stratus that (all in one motion) flicked a cigarette out the window and cut into my lane without a glance, while I was on my way to work last Friday.
DETROIT'S FINEST
The White Stripes, the finest music to come out of the Motor City since the MC5.
BALTIMORE'S FINEST
Has anything fine come out of Baltimore except for Texas Is The Reason? Unfortunately they've disbanded, but the perfection of Back And To The Left will roll on for infinity. . .
QUOTE
"Too bad he's going to fade like a T-shirt from the Colton Auction." Me to Aaron Gerth when he called to inform me that he was watching a NORBA Nat'l on OLN and that Trek/VW's Travis Brown was leading at the start of the Men's Elite XC Race.
Stay tuned for a race report from Rim Nordic's Mountain Stage Race, July 27-28
Jul 25, 2002
(Tuesday Night/7-23) Can you say, "crack?" That's exactly what I did at this week's Tuesday night fast and furious Sunset circuit training ride in Redlands, but not before putting in a few courageous, yet worthless efforts. Since my nine-day business trip up to Washington and then to Monterey, I've felt sluggish like a wet sponge and haven't been able to stay with a break away for three trips around the circuit. Two Tuesday nights in a row I've been spit off the back like a cannon, only completing two laps with the chase group. Chalk it up to too many days off the bike or maybe even to over training, but either way, it's frustating as hell. Nevertheless, I was my own worst enemy last Tuesday as I foolishly tried a solo break away early on (in big ring). The end result was fatigue instead of glory. I had my reasons for the attempt. Mainly because the week prior I got caught sleeping when the break away occurred and by the time I had worked my way up to its tail end I was cooked from dodging back markers. This week I wanted to avoid that problem at any cost so I went out fast and paid the price. Afterward Johnny T said I lit too many matches too quickly. He was right.
After my first attack a chase group, made up of the usual suspects reeled me in (with little effort I suspect). The group was larger than usual, but wasn't affecting the pace. It was still fast. I merged in somewhere in the middle to recover from my effort and actually started to feel good, that is until an unknown Jelly Belly attacked not long after passing Caroline Park. Garner Vertican followed and so did I as everyone else sat back. What was I thinking. Match number two lit. It didn't last long and the break group we had broken off from caught me before I could even get comfortable on Garner's wheel. Moments later I popped. I sat up in disgust just as we reached the summit of Sunset on the first go around.
I hooked up with a couple of other guys who had cracked earlier and at one point it looked as though we may bridge back up to the the breakaway. It didn't happen - instead we got caught by a chase group. Trevor Walton was in the chase group and was doing most the work until we climbed past Caroline Park starting our second lap. He too may have lit too many matches too quickly.
The ride concluded with a speeding pelaton down to San Timateo Canyon via Live Oak Canyon Rd. Nerve racking as hell, but fun none the less. The total turnout I'd say was approximately 50. Not bad for a 100-degree day. As we ended the ride with a light spin back into Redlands a member of the Trek/VW team commented on my attack and I told him I felt like I was going backwards recently. Being a seasoned road racer, he assured me that that was typical of the month of July. I'm taking the next two days off before the two-day mountain bike stage race this weekend at Rim Nordic in Running Springs.
After my first attack a chase group, made up of the usual suspects reeled me in (with little effort I suspect). The group was larger than usual, but wasn't affecting the pace. It was still fast. I merged in somewhere in the middle to recover from my effort and actually started to feel good, that is until an unknown Jelly Belly attacked not long after passing Caroline Park. Garner Vertican followed and so did I as everyone else sat back. What was I thinking. Match number two lit. It didn't last long and the break group we had broken off from caught me before I could even get comfortable on Garner's wheel. Moments later I popped. I sat up in disgust just as we reached the summit of Sunset on the first go around.
I hooked up with a couple of other guys who had cracked earlier and at one point it looked as though we may bridge back up to the the breakaway. It didn't happen - instead we got caught by a chase group. Trevor Walton was in the chase group and was doing most the work until we climbed past Caroline Park starting our second lap. He too may have lit too many matches too quickly.
The ride concluded with a speeding pelaton down to San Timateo Canyon via Live Oak Canyon Rd. Nerve racking as hell, but fun none the less. The total turnout I'd say was approximately 50. Not bad for a 100-degree day. As we ended the ride with a light spin back into Redlands a member of the Trek/VW team commented on my attack and I told him I felt like I was going backwards recently. Being a seasoned road racer, he assured me that that was typical of the month of July. I'm taking the next two days off before the two-day mountain bike stage race this weekend at Rim Nordic in Running Springs.
Jul 19, 2002
Friday, July 19, 2002: I got up around 5 AM and started the dreaded westbound commute on the 91 Fwy in order to make it to the Corona, Green River exit with enough time to ride the Santa Ana River Trail into work. As it turns out, traffic was heavy for a Friday, so when I arrived at Green River it was too late to start riding. Instead I drove ahead to Imperial Hwy and parked at a park in Yorba Linda to begin my ride there. Once on the trail I maintained a 20 to 24 mph pace and picked up a riding partner before reaching the Anaheim Pond. He drafted me until we reached the Costa Mesa area then we slowed our pace and began to talk. He was a Cat 3 road racer who had planned a 60 mile morning. We went our seperate ways not long after passing MacAurthor. I arrived at work a little late because we slowed our pace considerably while we were talking. With the ride home, I'll log approximately 43 miles today.
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