There’s a guy at Stell Coffee & Tea shop that’s known to some as The Lurker. He’s frequently there with his face covered by the newspaper, but when he hears an interesting conversation, he’s not afraid to drop his paper to chest level and openly ease-drop. The Lurker would make a horrible detective. Who reads the newspaper these days anyway? Once the conversation turns stale, the newspaper goes back up and his face is once again hidden.

Apparently he was a regular Fox Coffee patron until too many young ladies complained about his off-color comments and he was banned from the building. So basically the Lurker is a Coffee Shop offender. When he started hanging around Stell, he should have been required to reveal his coffee shop crimes. Shouldn’t there be a coffee shop offender online database to help prevent these types from traveling from coffee shop to coffee shop? At the very least, there should be a designated coffee shop or chain of coffee shops (like Starbucks) where coffee shop offenders can convene over a cup of joe. But don’t mix these weirdoes with the rest of us. I want to be able to enjoy conversation and a cup of coffee without having to worry about some strange social derelict knowing about my personal life. That’s what blogs are for.

Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder if the Lurker actually has a job or if for some odd reason he has a mysterious endless cash-flow like Jason Sager. But then I think if the Lurker had a lot of money he’d probably put down the Redlands Daily Facts and read the online version via a MacBook.

One night it occurred to me that he may have one of those jobs that you see on late night TV where you get rich cutting out newspaper clippings. That would explain his newspapers, but I’ve never seen him with scissors in hand. And thank goodness for that. Maybe he just scans the paper at Stell and then goes home to clip out his riches.

Occasionally, my fascination with the Lurker will lead my mind to wonder on to other things as I lay awake at night. For example, how in the hell can you become rich by cutting out newspaper clippings? I’ve seen the commercials and the testimonials, but they lack pertinent details on the job description. And I’m not about to order the $19.99 starter kit video that they offer because I don’t have a mysterious endless cash-flow like some people I know, and I don’t own a VHS player anymore. Maybe when the DVD comes out I’ll consider it, but until then I’ll just lay awake at night and wonder.

Speaking of clippings, both Ryder and I got our hair cut this week and that makes me think of the Lurker too. The Lurker always has a clean cut. Maybe a good job for the Lurker would be cutting hair. People make a lot small talk at barber shops and barbers read the paper while they’re in between customers. The Lurker could really cash in if he was a barber and in between cutting customer’s hair he cut newspaper clippings. He could use the same tool for two jobs. That’s kind of what the fictional character, Sweeney Todd did, right? What if in addition to cutting hair and murdering people, Sweeney Todd used his scissors to get rich by cutting newspaper clippings? That’s like the trifecta or hat-trick of using scissors.

So what have we learned here?
1. There’s a Lurker at Stell
2. Someone should create a Coffee Shop Offender online database
3. Printed newspapers aren’t completely dead. Yet.
4. Scissors are a multi-functional tool

What is still up in the air?

We still don’t know how cutting newspaper clippings can make you rich and we still don’t know much about the Lurker, but all of this rambling beats the hell out of a Bonelli XC race report.

My Garmin is Full of Bad News

It told me I spent over 90 minutes above threshold in a 2 hour and 15 minute mountain bike race. It's a wonder I'm not dead.

It can tell me all that, but it can't change itself over to daylight savings time on its own. I hate it (the Garmin, not daylight savings).

Meanwhile, there's been a James Williams sighting over at Sager's.

James reminds me of the glory days when I was fit.

I wrote a new blog a few days ago and never got around to posting it. Then Favre announced his retirement and it kind of took the wind out of my sails. At a conference in Spokane, I watched all the Sports Center coverage from a lonely hotel room.

The shame of it for me is that Favre will be to Ryder what Johnny Unitas is to me. Neither of us will ever fully realize their greatness because we were not old enough to have experienced their legendary careers. For that reason I am sad.

More Like... Of the Century

Last week I went into the credit union to open a new checking account and I discovered that my license expired on Nov. 8 of last year. I would have gladly traded all the Outside magazines I get in the mail for a license renewal notice. BTW, in case you haven't seen it yet, Jack Johnson is on the cover of Outside. Again. Anyway, so that means I have to go to the DMV, or as Dane Cook calls it, "Satan's asshole."

Right now you're saying to yourself, "I renewed my license online." Well, good for you Bill Gates. I bet you do all your Xmas shopping on online too, but since my license was more than 60 days expired, the DMV required me to show face.

The urgency of renewing my license became evident the other day when I got carded while buying beer. I played 20 questions with the clerk at Circle K before $3.13 was exchanged for a 22 ounce bottle of Newcastle.

1. Did you know your license is expired? Yes.
2. Do you have a new one? No.
3. Do you have temporary paperwork? No.
4. Have you renewed it? No.

At question # 5 I started getting the shakes.

Under normal circumstances this interrogation wouldn't have happened, but the liquor store that Ryder and I walk to on warm and sunny afternoons recently got held up. It’s been closed ever since because the clerk got shot. In the head. The good news is he's still alive but the bad news is the trigger men are still on the loose.

That's how I ended up at Circle K playing 20 Questions. Eventually a second clerk stepped in and it became a good clerk, bad clerk thing. I must have answered at least one question correctly because the good clerk eventually took my money. I walked out into the cold night with a cold beer and a cold sweat thinking, "I really need to go to the DMV."

I'm a spur of the moment kind of guy so today I drove over to the Department of Motor Vehicles. As usual, the place was jammed full of people and everyone looked pissed. Occasionally, there was joy in the building, like when a kid would come out of the testing room with less than three wrong answers on his written test.

The kid sitting next to me made an appointment to take his second written test. He failed his first one after walking an hour one-way to the DMV. This time he got a ride from his uncle and the pair had already been waiting for over an hour when I sat next to them. 10 minutes later his number got called he jumped out of his seat to (most likely) fail the test for a second time because he was more nervous and sweaty than me trying to buy beer at Circle K.

About 5 minutes later they called my number, I paid my 28 bucks, walked over to the picture line, got my mug shot, and I was outta there in less time than it takes to race a 30+ crit. It was a miracle.

Nevertheless, I don't know which is worse - going to the DMV or racing a sub-60 minute criterium. This week I’ll have the experience of doing both. There’s a CBR crit on Sunday, but at least the Pro,1,2 race is 100K. That just barely makes it worth the drive to Dominguez Hills. At least I’ll be driving out there with a valid driver’s license.

If you think this blog was boring you should try racing a 100K crit…

Prean San Ol

"Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure
A massing treasure why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at every penny?
You'll take no money within the grave
Landlords and gentry with all their plenty
Must still go empty where e'er they're bound
So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
Our glasses clinking and round and round...

So, lads and lasses, because life passes
Come fill your glasses for another round."

-The Tossers

This Just In

Drinking tap water is not a crime.

Using all the plastic required to produce and drink bottled water is.

What the hell has Ryder been up to?

He went to see the Christmas Train in Rialto with Great Grandma Joyce and the rest of SSR (South Side Rialto).

He's been playing with his giant train table that I stayed up building until after midnight on Christmas Eve.

He soldiered on through the flu to participate in his school Christmas Program. The rest of the kids were green with envy over Ryder's argyle sweater.

He and Sala have been doing some pretty serious bonding.

And while I was out pedaling my bike, Ryder learned how to pedal his. Now, that's about all he wants to do. Sounds vaguely familiar.

Sooner or later, you knew it was coming

My goals for 2008. In bullet point form! What now Trevor?

• Get a unicycle so I can chase Ryder on his tricycle in the backyard
• Be nicer to people who don't ride bikes
• Buy a new filter for my humidifier since the current filter is moldy
• Floss the bottom row of my teeth more often
• Put together my jigsaw puzzle of dogs celebrating the 4th of July
• Drink more wine
• Watch more movies so I have a freaking idea of what everyone is talking about
• Watch more meaningful movies so everyone has no idea what I'm freaking talking about
• Learn to cut my own hair so I save 10 bucks a month
• Plant a tree
• Watch the Packers win the Super Bowl
• Go to a NFL game, but not one in Oakland, Pittsburg, Denver, Philly, San Diego, St. Louis, or New York
• Run at least once a week to build up my bone density since I'm getting old
• Ride in Moab
• Read some books that aren't about the history of punk rock
• Read more books to Ryder
• Be more consistent in my consumption of ice cream
• Learn how to spell better (not to be confused with learn how to spell the word better)
• Go to the beach and get in the ocean more than once a summer
• Stretch when I get off the bike instead of before I go to bed
• Kick more ass
• Take more names
• Send Mike my Power Tap files on a regular basis
• Do more rides on my own
• Take more pictures
• Leave more footprints
• Make more lists

Surprise, Surprise

Kelly Slater is on the cover of the February issue of Outside Magazine. Again.

Now that just leaves Lance Armstrong, Laird Hamilton, Jack Johnson, Ed Viesturs, Ben Harper & Eddy Vedder for months March thru December. I wonder in what order?

And I wonder which issue will claim Tucson as a great place to live? Again.

Give me a break.

I got this text

It said: "Are you still alive?"

I replied: "No, I'm not still alive. I'm texting you from the afterlife. The group rides here are phenomenal."

And now the sender of this text is mad because, I was a smartass when answering a concerned question. I told this person that he'd know if I was dead because I've willed him what's left of my collection of stems. Unfortunately my collection of stems ain't what it used to be because I've already given most of them to this person. The irony.

I wonder what kind of comment this person will leave?

Meanwhile at the Orange Show Race Track

We did a little time trial testing. I did a little riding and a little forgetting my TT helmet and Max Performance Mike did a little filming. After a warm-up, 40 hot laps, & a cool down, here's what we came up with:

I have good knee angle.

My hip is open correctly.

My position just sucks. I've seen flatter backs in a retirement home.

Mike says I need to rotate my pelvis to flatten my back and get my glutes more involved. As is, my crappy position is causing me to loose up to 25% of my power. It's bad enough that my horrible hip flexability prevents me from doing the splits on the balance beam and during my floor routine.

How Trish Saved Christmas

Compact Discs
Floor Pump
Gift Cards
Black Vest

These are some of the gifts given to me on Christmas, although two days before the holiday I nearly froze to death and almost didn’t get to give or receive a damn thing.

I believe that there is no suffering worse than the suffering from being cold so I checked Weather.com a day before meeting Tom Gardner in Joshua Tree. The Web site said ‘50s with winds 5-10 mph. I know some of you reading this are probably thinking, “You should have gone to WeatherUnderground.com.” And I say, why - so I have to waste 11 more keystrokes before finding out that the weather in JTree will be 55 with winds 8-11 mph? Do people actually go to WeatherUnderground.com because of its “underground” label and because they believe they’re getting some sort of insider information that the guys over at Weather.com aren’t privy to, or because WeatherUnderground.com actually has more precise climate info? I seriously doubt it’s the latter. I should start WeatherInsider.com or WeatherElite.com and see if “insider” and “elite” can outdo the nauseous popularity of “underground.”

Speaking of underground, Trevor has nothing to do with this story because while I was checking the weather, he was driving to Hollywood to hang out at a goth club. Now that’s underground.

Anyway, Weather.com says ‘50s with 5-10 mph. I can do that, so Eric, Joy, and I get up early drive to JTree and meet Tom and Blair at the visitor’s center. We were rolling by 10:00. The thing about JTree is that there is only water on the outskirts of the park, which is why we rode from the Yucca Valley/Joshua Tree entrance to Cottonwood, which is about 60 miles away near Interstate 10.

Now, as far as I can tell, here’s where I screwed myself on this Weather.com thing. The wind in Joshua Tree said 5-10 mph, but when you get on the other side of the national park and 60 miles away from the town of Joshua Tree, things can be drastically different. Things like the wind. I’ll try not to make this story any more long-winded (pun intended) than it needs to be, but the onset of Joy’s nagging stomach issue and strong wind made things slow-going. Things weren’t only windy and slow-going, but as the sun started to drop, things got cold. And when things get dark and cold, I get testy.

I hadn’t bothered to check the night temps on Weather.com or WeatherUndgergound.com because I hadn’t planned on going for a night ride.

No cell phone service. No lights. Little water and less food.

Remember the Saturday Night Live where Will Ferrell plays the character Terence Maddox and he can’t afford to buy his hepatitis medicine because he can’t sell his blood and he can’t sell his blood because he has hepatitis? Well, that’s kind of what happened to us, only Terence Maddox is much more funny than we are. We couldn’t ride fast to stay warm because Joy had stomach problems and we couldn’t ride slow because we were running out of daylight and it was getting colder.

We rode in the dark by moonlight until almost 6:00 when an angel driving a Ford F350 picked us up. It was Tom’s wife, Trish and that's how she saved Christmas.

The moral of the story? All the weather-related Web sites in the world will do you no good if you can’t afford to buy your hepatitis medicine because you can’t sell your blood and you can’t sell your blood because you have hepatitis. Or something like that.

Some Best & Worst of 2007

Best Ryder story: Towing him around at crit on Thursday nights. The actual act of towing the trailer at speed actually kind of sucks. It’ s like pulling a 50 pound parachute, but he loves it and he especially loves it when he gets to yell “Go Bikes!” as we get lapped.

Second best Ryder story: Taking him on It’s a Small World at Disneyland. I don’t know if I’ve ever witnessed more joy in his face. He’s ridden it an additional three times since then. Too bad the fatties are shutting down for a year.

Worst Ryder story: Leaving him at pre-school on his first day. It was going so well until we started to walk away.

Best mountain bike race: Firestone Walker, Santa Ynez NMBS – 4th Pro/Semi-pro Single-speed. I don’t consider fourth or fifth place a podium position because mountain bike racing is the only nancy-boy sport in the world that allows the third and fourth losers to share the limelight. Although, I did accept the giant Firestone Walker brewery mug for my efforts.

Worst mountain bike race: See 12-Hours of Temecula.

Best road race: CA State Championship – 5th, 30+. I initiated the break early in the race, but because I can’t sprint worth a damn, I only won enough money to buy lunch and drive home.

Worst road race: See Everest Challenge.

Best attempt at winning Everest Challenge: Even though the race ascends almost 30,000 feet in only two days, and even though I had never seen the race’s climbs, from the gun I went out hard and marked past Everest Challenge winners.

Worst attempt at winning Everest Challenge: Even though the race ascends almost 30,000 feet in only two days, and even though I had never seen the race’s climbs, from the gun I went out hard and marked past Everest Challenge winners. A smarter idea would have been to do a recon mission of the course, start conservative come race day, and actually put in the training required for an event of that magnitude.

Best attempt at winning the 12 Hours of Temecula: Even though my only prior attempt at winning the solo division in a 12-hour race ended early with heat exhaustion, from the gun I went out hard and fast and led for a while.

Worst attempt at winning the 12 Hours of Temecula: Even though my only prior attempt at winning the solo division in a 12-hour race ended early with heat exhaustion, from the gun I went out hard and fast and led for a while. A smarter idea would have been to go out slow and easy. It is a 12 hour race after all. What’s the hurry?

Best show: The Tossers, who played second fiddle to the Street Dogs at the Galaxy Theater. As expected, rad.

Worst show: The Street Dogs, who headlined the Tossers show at the Galaxy Theater. Brand new denim and Docs? Lame and so not punk rock.

Best drum solo: The dude with his drum set situated at the highest point of the Mt. Snow, VT race course. It’s a lot harder to keep up with the beat when you’re riding a single-speed, but nevertheless, it’s a very cool sound as it echoes through the forest.

Worst drum solo: The slow menacing drum beat I heard in my head as I was marched down the hallway and out the front door of K&N. Dead man walking.

Best place for a feed: On the road leading to Bishop’s South Lake as my mom hung out the window and did her best Johan to hand me much needed food and clothing.

Worst place for a feed: At the National Mountain Bike Series Finals in Snowmass, CO, it required a helicopter, a chairlift, or a week of travel to locate and then arrive at the feed station. Everything related to the NMBS is “behind the scenes,” including the spectators.

Worst short-track: NOVA’s twilight STX in Fountain Hills. Pavement and a rock-laden vacant lot with hairpin turns. Serious?

Best short-track: Mt. Snow STX, which I watched three sheets to the wind. I made a trip to win a Nat’l Single-speed XC Championship, and since that didn’t happen I turned to multiple bottles of Vermont’s finest. But what better way to watch a short track race?

Best crash: My text book low-side during the NOVA Super-D. It was a graceful and smooth slide that would have made Kenny Roberts proud.

Worst crash: Josh Bunz’s violent high-side at Raincross. Too ugly for words.

Here's to no crashes in 2008.

That's that.

The beautiful mistake that was the 12 Hours of Temecula.

I Feel Like Henry Hill

You know that scene in Goodfellas where Ray Liotta’s character has a busy day? That’s my life. Every day.

“I had a busy day. I had to drop guns off at Jimmy's to match some silencers he had. I had to pick up my brother at the hospital and pick up some stuff for Lois to fly down to some customers in Atlanta…

My Pittsburgh guys always wanted guns. Since I would see them in the afternoon I was pretty sure I'd get my money back…

My plan was to drop off my brother at the house and pick up Karen…

I was cooking dinner. I had to start braising the beef and veal shanks for the tomato sauce. It was Michael's favorite. I was making ziti with gravy, roasted peppers, string beans with olive oil, and beautiful cutlets that were cut just right that I was going to fry up as an appetizer. So I was home for about an hour. My plan was to start dinner early so I could unload the guns Jimmy didn't want. Then get the package for Lois to take to Atlanta later that night…

I asked my brother to watch the sauce and Karen and I started out…

I had to get home and get the package ready for Lois to take on her trip. I also had to get to Sandy's to give the package a whack with quinine. And I knew Sandy would get on my ass. I had cooking to finish, and I had to get Lois ready for her trip…

I got home and started cooking. I had a few hours before Lois' flight. I told my brother to watch the stove. All day long the poor guy's been watching helicopters and
tomato sauce. I had to drive over to Sandy's, mix the stuff, then get back to
the gravy…”

This is my life, only instead of guns and cocaine, its bikes, Accelerade, appointments, house chores, work, and family. As far as I know, you can’t get into the witness protection program for any of that. Something needs to get whacked. Maybe the house chores…

Ryder and Destry Do Disneyland

"You are forgiven for your sins. Bless you my son," says the mouse.

They rode It's a Small World three times. "What do you mean the boats are bottoming out?" says Ryder.

"Psssst. Ryder, act like you're asleep when we get home and we won't have to help unload the car. I learned that from my mommy and it works like a charm every time."

The lights are about to go out on Small World.

I’ve never really liked Temecula

When I was a kid we’d occasionally play soccer teams from Temecula and youthful ignorance made me believe that they were all rich kids so I hated them and the town they came from. Coincidentally, I also hated Grand Terrace for the same reason. Plus, its name sounded so elitist. As an adult I discovered that Grand Terrace is neither grand, nor is it much of a terrace and the kids there aren’t much different than the kids in Rialto. However, after calling it home for five years, I can now say that GT (as the locals call it) is not a bad place. Temecula, on the other hand is a bad place. I tore my ACL in Temecula, I was issued a speeding ticket in Temecula, I was stung by a bee in Temecula, and last Saturday I soloed the 12-Hours of Temecula mountain bike race (10-Hours of Temecula, actually). It was, and I still am miserable.


Cramps, stomach issues, and then getting passed by girls – they all played a part in my demise.


Afterward, it was pointed out by some that my diet, nutrition, and preparation for the event were sub-par. They mocked me. And you know what? They’re right. It’s time to get this situation under control. Dedication, hard work, the ability to suffer, and left-over teenage angst can only take you so far for so long in this world. I need to either tap into some previously undiscovered raw talent or start reading some supplements labels because this fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants stuff just won’t fly.


It’s all got me very worked up. I need a drink.


I can’t blame my bike. For 10 hours it (and the fine mechanical skills of Ben Parks) kept me doing laps.

Although, riding one of these would have been nice. Johnson's Superfly has arrived.

My body felt like I was riding one of these.

On subsequent days, I rode one of these.

Yada, yada, yada, the writers are on strike

The new adventures of old Elane

It’s an XXXL World

I told you so. All the fat kids running around (I mean, sitting around) have forced Disneyland to shut down It’s a Small World in order to bring in larger boats and a deeper water-way. Obese adolescents and their parents too, are too heavy for the ride, so Ryder’s favorite Magic Kingdom attraction will be closed down for a year during renovations. So, not only do I have to pay taxes for their health care, but now my kid can’t ride his favorite ride because much of America looks like Dumbo? I guess large is in charge.

How long before they sink a Jungle Cruise?


Malls? Rats!

The news is that over the holiday season, Al qaeda may be targeting southern California malls and shopping centers. This is horrible news. They can do what they want to our outdoor shopping centers, but hasn’t the SoCal indoor mall already suffered enough? My generation and probably the generation before were raised inside indoor malls and now that they are an endangered species, these people want to blow up the few still standing? What in the hell is wrong with these people? I know what some of you are thinking; ‘Go ahead, blow up the Carousel Mall. It’s nothing but an indoor swap meet now.’ Wrong! The indoor mall will rise again! One day we will smell the sweet scent of the Orange Julius and Mrs. Fields Cookies. We will buy our turtlenecks and refrigerators from J.C. Penny and Montgomery Wards and not from Target and Home Depot. Our music will come from Sam Goody, our candy from See’s, and our hosiery from Harris’. We will once again buy our sneakers from a man dressed as a referee. The indoor mall will rise again! We must protect them.


I'm Not on Strike

Since the sntertainment writers are on strike, I’m going to write a great Saturday Night Live skit, cross the picket line, and go from minor celebrity to major celebrity. Here’s a summary of my skit. This kid, (we’ll call him Matt) is sitting in his room with his friend (we’ll call him Nathan) and they’re looking through their football cards. Just before they are going to trade a 1985 Refrigerator Perry and a 1983 Lyle Alzado (R.I.P.), OJ Simpson and his goons bust in like the Kool Aid Man and demand that Nathan hand over his 1970 OJ rookie card, or at least trade it for a 1975 Al Cowlings. Instead of giving in, Matt and Nathan tell the Juice to get lost unless. The Juice offers to throw in an ‘87 Brian Bosworth and an ’85 Phil McConkey and then a heated barter ensues between the acquitted murder and the two boys. Just when it’s about to come to a head, OJ catches sight of an old USC football helmet in the corner of the bedroom and claims that it once belonged to him. As Matt and Nathan try to keep it away from the Juice, the broken NFL hero grabs it, and begins to put it over his head, but the maroon helmet doesn’t fit. With the helmet stuck halfway over his head, the Juice looks into the camera and says, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!”

Halloween has come and gone. Now go ride your bike!

Ryder's obsession with trains carried over into Halloween. He went Happy Halloweening as a train conductor and Alex went as a pirate. Destry was Mickey Mouse. They all got lots of candy.

Speaking of Candy...

The average person loses 13 lbs. their first year of commuting by bike.

Just three hours of bicycling per week can reduce your risk of heart disease and stroke by 50%.

A 140-pound cyclist burns 508 calories while pedaling 14 miles in an hour.

The U.S. could save 462 million gallons of gasoline a year by increasing cycling from 1% to 1.5% of all trips.

Each U.S. rush-hour auto commuter spends and average of 50 hours a year stuck in traffic.

In 2003, cars stalled in traffic wasted 5 million gallons of fuel.

In 1964, 50% of kids rode to school and the obesity rate was 12%... in 2004, 3% rode to school and the obesity rate was 45%.

Between 1960 and today the average weight of a 6-11 year old has increased 11 pounds.

60% of the pollution created by automobile emissions happens in the first few minutes of operation, before pollution control devices can work effectively.

25% of all trips are made within a mile of the home, 40% of all trips are within two miles of the home, and 50% of the working population commutes five miles or less to work.

I'm just the messenger. All of this is from 1world2wheels.org

The Pogues, Into the Wild & Red Asphalt

Saw the Pogues show at House of Blues (HOB) Anaheim on Sunday night. It was pretty cool to be down on the floor so close to one of my life heroes, although last year's show at the Wilturn was better. The HOB is already small and it seemed like they over-sold the show. It was definately the most crowded HOB show I've ever been to. Before we went, I had entertained the idea of buying a ticket for tonight's show at the Wiltern, but after getting home at 2 a.m. on Monday morning, I couldn't bare the thought of staying out late twice in one week. Not even for Shane, who by the way looked excellant. It looks like he's lost weight. The funniest part of the night was when the crowd was waiting for the Pogues to come on stage; a roadie brought out a stool and set it center stage and the crowd gasped, assuming Shane was too wasted or feeble to stand on his own. As it turns out, the stool was for Shane to set his drinks. Icon.

Saw Into the Wild on Saturday night. Heavy. A sidenote to the story of Chris McCandless, is that it's hard to believe the same guy who played Jeff Spicolio and was married to Madonna is making movies like this. Good work and a good intreptation of the book. Anyway, the movie was rad. The book is even more rad. I liken it to a modern day Catcher in the Rye and think all men, young and old should read it (or listen on audiobook). And their women should too. It explains a lot.

I just found out that the Tossers played the Wiltern last Friday night. Sonofbitch. They'll be back in December. Thanks God.


The first Friday of every month is the Red Asphalt Ride. This month the turn-out was between 30 and 40.

We ride all over town, like through the parking lot of Target at Citrus Plaza.

And then we go over to City Hall and do a crit in the undrerground parking lot.

There are all kinds of bikes. Mountain bikes, road bikes, commuters bikes, beach cruisers, singlespeeds and of course, fixxies.

Every month's ride has a theme and since November is national mustache month, then why not? Here is the judging of the femme mustaches at the Redlands Bowl. The chick with the mohawk won. She made her own mustache with hair from her freshly shaved head. Rad.


Trevor won the mustache contest for the dudes, although Steve was a close second. I wasn't elgible because I didn't start growing mine until a week prior. Everyone else started at the beginning of October. Anyway, I went with a John Waters stache. Not rad. Creepy. Photos to come.


After the ride we went to the Vault, spread the good bicycle word and had a few drinks. Next month's theme is Christmas. With any luck at all, we'll have 50 people dressed in Santa suits riding around Redlands and a lot of toys for our toy drive.

Google vs. Good Search

Meredith wrote:
The Food Allergy & AnaphylaxisNetwork is asking that instead of using Google or other search engines that you try using goodsearch.com. GoodSearch.com donates half its revenue to the charities its users designate. You use it just as you would any search engine, and it's powered by Yahoo! so you get great results. Just go to GoodSearch.com and enter FAAN (Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Network) as the charity you want to support. You can also shop using GoodShop.com and they will donate to your chosen charity. On Nov. 23 FAAN will be honored as Charity of the Day on GoodSearch.com every search made on that day will generate a contribution to FAAN!

I wrote: I just Googled goodsearch.com and I'm not sure I like it. I'm kind of old-fashioned.

Meredith wrote: You’re kind of smart ass too.

I wrote: Have you ever Googled “smart ass”? The results are pretty funny.

Meredith wrote: No, but I Goodsearched it.

I wrote: Whatever. Mom likes me best. Grandma too.

Meredith wrote: Big deal. I got dad. And mom only likes you best because you always try to make her feel sorry for you. It's just pity love.

I wrote: You should be nicer. I'm going to post this conversation on my blog.

Meredith wrote: You taught me everything I know.