Here. Match the movie quote to the movie. I did two of the easy ones already as an example. I'll post the answers when I get around to it.

I hate to sound like a whiney-B, but I’m tired from a whirl-wind weekend. I had to get up at 4:00 AM on Saturday and Sunday. There are still drunks passed out on the sidewalk near the Falconer at 4 in the morning.

WARNING: The following 4 paragraphs are about the Devil’s Punch Bowl. If you’re like me and you hate race reports, do not read. Or, you can just scroll down to my Haiku and read about it there.

Let be completely frank. When it comes to road racing in southern California, there are 3 words that make me cringe; criterium, Thurlow, and Rogers. Now let me explain. I don’t like crits because I’m a 140-ish pound mountain bike racer and my sprint is about as powerful as a watch battery. I don’t like the mention of Thurlow Rogers because people in these parts talk about him like he’s unstoppable. Granted, he’s an Olympian, won a Pan Am gold medal, won the NRC, won a Masters World Championship, etc., etc., but I don’t show up to a local road race like Punch Bowl hoping to finish second just because Thurlow Rogers is there. Besides, if he were really unstoppable he'd have his own Wikipedia page, but he doesn't.

Anyway, so here’s what happened at Punch Bowl. On the first of 3 hot and windy laps a 6 man break goes up the road. Okay, no big deal. It’s early. Be patient. A bit of a gamble, I know.

Shortly thereafter, on a downhill Thurlow and Mark Noble bridged to the break and there went the race. Because As soon as they made contact with the break, I knew my gamble had screwed me. Coincidentally, their move blew the field apart.

I spent the rest of the day in the first chase group with 9 other guys; 3 of which were sitting on because they had teammates in the break. That meant only 6 of us were chasing. On the last lap, the sitters-on used their fresh legs to drill it up the biggest climb and because of my chasing efforts; I had no matches left to burn. I ended the day in 14th. Noble won and Thurlow was second. So, what we’ve established here is that Rogers can be beat (just not by me) and I’m not much of a gambler.

Devil’s Punch Bowl Haiku
I missed the damn break
Rode hard, but to no avail
I finished fourteenth

Here’s something on Willie Stewart that Johnson sent. Speaking of Willie, I worked the PossAbilities Triathalon on Sunday with him and the rest of the team. Willie had the microphone all day. That guy really knows how to work a crowd.

I must be doing something right. Ryder had a meltdown because I wouldn’t let him ride his new bike before going to school this morning. I know how he feels...

Ryder's new bike.

Are you just going to sit on my wheel or are you going to pull through?

I might have to hit this up instead of going to bike practice this Thursday.

I forgot to tell this story. A few weeks ago before an evening ride I decided I'd put my bib on in the bathroom at work instead of fumbling around in the coffee shop parking lot trying not to show everyone on Barton Road my ass. I changed at work and then put my clothes on again right over my bib. Then I walked out like normal, drove over to the coffee shop and started getting ready to ride. Standing in the parking lot, I took off my shirt, put on my heartrate monitor strap, put on a base layer, zipped up my jersey, took off my Docs, took off my pants, and then started going through my gear bag to get my road shoes. As soon as I started to put my shoes on I realized that I had forgotten to take off my underwear when I took off my pants. I probably spent at least a minute standing there all geared up with a pair of grey Haines boxer-briefs over my black PossAbilities Elite team kit before I realized what was going on. I'm not as cool as I think I am.

Things that went through my head on last Tuesday's ride.

Ryder turned three on Monday. His party at My Gym turned out to be a rager.

The Birthday March.

Cupcakes!

A gang of kids.

On Saturday morning Greg, Todd & I did Loch Leven to Angelus Oaks and then down the Santa Ana River Trail (SART) to Thomas Hunting Grounds and then back up Hwy 38. Trails don't get much better than that. Too often I forget just how good we have it here.

Afterward I went out on the road bike for another couple of hours. After riding SART, the road got so boring I was forced to do hill repeats up Rossmont. There's nothing boring about that. There's nothing easy about that either.

Saturday is Devil's Punch Bowl. Still haven't decided if I'm going Pro,1,2 or 35+. It's a difference of two laps, 30-some miles and a lot of pain and suffering.

Talk about suffering, on Sunday I have to be at the coffee shop at 4:45 AM to go work the PossAbilities Triathlon.

A guy from work is in an on-going argument with his sister. He's thinking about putting together a PowerPoint in order to get his point across to her. All family disputes should be handled that way.

Tuesday was Earth Day. I went about my business as if it were any other day. Sorry Earth. Maybe next year.

An Open Letter to Sea Otter Classic

Dear Sea Otter Classic,

For the first time in many springs I won’t visit you. I think it’s for the best. You and I, we need a break. For, it is a love-hate relationship I share with you. While I’m at your venue, I loathe you. Your fickle weather, your traffic jams, your over-priced food, your out-of-area-code parking, and your threatening timing-chip policy fill me with a disgust matched by no other. But after I’m gone and my body has recovered, my bike fixed, and my wallet restored, I easily forget the turmoil of your springtime event and yearn for my next return. Memory slips away of how you take so much and give so little. Although, because of the visual scars, I’ll not soon forget the poison oak you gave me last spring and the spring before that. Nor will I forget the bronchitis that has followed your chilled winds and icy rainstorms. Or the hours upon hours upon hours upon hours of washing and working on nearly destroyed bicycles from one day to the next. Oh Sea Otter Classic, oh Sea Otter Classic, oh Sea Otter Classic, I am finally free of you.

Sincerely,
Matt

The Great Sea Otter Classic Storm of 2006, otherwise known as Chain-suck Week.

Everything Must Go!

Trek XO1 cross bike, 54cm
In 2006, I thought, what the heck. My USAC license says Category 1 CX, I’ll try cross racing. So, I got a cross bike, modified it slightly to better handle southern California cross courses and proceeded to get my ass handed to me. And of course every time I did put a good race together I’d get a puncture. Plus, racing cross on winter weekends left me no time to do base miles so when road racing season rolled around, my endurance was slightly better than that of a life-long smoker’s. In 2007, I said nah to cross, and while I got my base miles this winter, I became bored doing it. I’m no longer cut out for 6 hour days in the “cold”. That means I’m back on the cross band wagon come this winter, which means I bought a new cross bike, which means my old bike could be yours. Besides, you’re too old to be doing 6 hour base mile rides too. Cross only takes an hour. You need this bike.

Trek Madone frame, 56cm
If you went to Interbike a few years ago, you'll remember that you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting some sort of Madone knock-off frame like this one. The funny part is, Trek only used this frame for, I think, two years before they got rid of the seat tube cut-out design. Apparently Lance didn’t like it. He can afford to be picky. You can’t. You should buy this frame.

Bontrager RaceXXXLite seat post, 27.2mm
I just happen to have two of these carbon fiber beauties and each one of them would look great on either a red Madone road frame, a gun-metal black cross bike, or whatever else you’re trying to dress up. These things are like new. I only weigh a buck forty-five on a fat day and I do most of my climbing out of the saddle, so these babies still have years of structural integrity left in them. Not only are they strong and light weight, they dampen the vibration of a rough ride. And with today’s roads, that could mean the difference between adopting and being able to conceive your own child. You can’t afford to not buy one or both of these seat posts.

Bontrager RaceXXXLite stem, 90mm
I admit, carbon fiber stems are probably a waste of money. They’re expensive and they don’t weigh much less than a good aluminum stem. But you waste money all the time. Think of all the money you’ve wasted on bling wheels, fruity drinks, movies, ex-significant others, clothes, electronics… the list goes on and on. Why stop now? Waste some money on a carbon stem. Besides, you probably don’t really care how much something costs; just as long as you look cool with it in your possession. What’s more cool than a carbon fiber stem? It sends a message. It says, “I’ve got a handle on things and it can only be handled with carbon fiber.” That’s cool. That’s Arthur Fonzarelli cool. Hey, make me an offer I can’t refuse.

I finally broke down and bought a new digital camera, which means I also broke down and bought a memory card to give it some memory. After breaking down for both of those I was too broke to buy the extended warranty, so hopefully it doesn’t break. My old digi-cam was found in the road broken after I dropped it while photographing paceline action on the fly at breakneck speed.

Speaking of broken necks, my brother-in-law, Joey has been out on the bike lately and is beginning to build fitness. If he sticks to it, based on his stocky build, I predict he’ll make great crit scum. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Saturday morning Ryder & I woke up, watched some Mickey, and then went out back to play in the backyard. Well, he mostly played while I tidied up, although we did do some chalk drawings and I let him hose off the patio. Then Denise came home from a 16 mile run (WTF?) and I met Josh & Jon Reth for a ride.

I'm not sure if we're still in a drought, but if we are, I think I know why.

Motivational chalk drawings.

Me and my compadres (above) ascended to Oak Glen. It was hot. We descended to Beaumont. It was hot and windy. We took San Timoteo Canyon back to Redlands. It was tailwindy. Good thing. I hate headwindy. It was one of my fastest trips down the canyon ever, and even though temps were in the mid 90s, I hardly broke (there’s that word again) a sweat.

On Sunday, I sweat a lot. It wasn’t any hotter; I just consumed too much tri-tip and libations on Saturday night. I suffered like a dog while Trevor, Joey & I did a miserable excuse for a ride the next morning. Afterward, I laid around the pool for the rest of the day trying to dry out and forget how terrible I felt.

It’s like the Stranger said: “Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes, well, he eats you.”

I’ve been doing a little racing. The first two mountain bike nationals, only instead of getting called up in the back row of the elites, I’ve opted to race the series in the singlespeed class. Fontana went okay, although I did plan on riding the elite race later in the day so I chose to run a sissy gear on the singlespeed. It probably cost me second or third place. I finished fourth. And I only lasted one lap in the pro race later that day. Two mountain bike races in one day is a bad idea.

Last weekend while Denise and Ryder were in Hawaii and most everyone else I know was milling around town for the Redlands Classic, I went to Arizona for round 2. I won the SuperD TT on Friday and skipped Saturday’s short track race. On Sunday in the XC race, I was beginning to check out from the rest of the singlespeeders on the first of three laps when a rock sliced the sidewall of my rear tire. The Stans wouldn’t seal it because the gash was about two inches long. I threw a tube in, but that only got me another mile. I then had to walk a good hour before I found a smooth of enough dirt road that I could ride with a flat tire. Bum deal.

Fountain Hills, where the race is at is a great place to ride, but the second half of the course is littered with so many rocks that flats are a major issue. There were people walking into the pits with double flats all weekend. What kills me is that there is plenty of unused singletrack in the area that is not rocky. They’ve used it for a national there in the past, but haven’t used it for the past two years. Instead they’d rather let the races be decided by who can keep air in their tires. That’s not mountain bike racing.

Today I’m meeting Robert Hordossy for lunch. He’s visiting from the Czech Republic. Since I’m a free born man of the U.S.A. and he’s a communist, we like to fight, so hopefully I don’t come back with a broken arm or something. He knows a lot of wrestling moves that he learned from visiting the Soviet Union and he’s twice the size of me, so the chances of me coming back injured are pretty high. He’s also a pretty good bike rider, but I wouldn’t admit that to him.

Last night at bike practice Little Tickmeyer stuck it to me again. The kid is getting faster and faster. He leaves for Europe soon so we won’t have each other to beat up on for while. Broc, Turner, & Miller will still be around though so it’s not like there won’t be anyone around to beat up on me while Little Tick is gone.

I’m tired and feel blah. This post is boring.