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
Oct 29, 2002
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
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