The Angry Cyclist Has Voted: Now Leave Me Alone

You know what really throws people off?

When you answer the door decked out in full spandex regalia. Yeah, that really throws people off. Especially when they are trying to sell you something or get you to vote for their candidate – because, you know, they can’t laugh at you. They have to be nice.

You know what makes people downright uncomfortable?

When you answer the door in full spandex regalia, then they ask you a question you just stare at them.

They just leave after that.

Really. I know because I did it on Saturday. I was on my way out for a little ride when some wanker knocked on the door. I could tell he wanted to laugh when he saw me rocking my cycling kit (like I just hang out in spandex all weekend). It kind of pissed me off because it was my house and if I want to be a spandex superstar full time in my house, well then, its none of his business.

He apparently liked to spend his free time going door to door pimping Steve Berch, so who is he to judge me if I like to spend my free time rocking spandex. Yeah, so when he asked me if he could count on me supporting Steve Berch in the election I just stared at him… Then he left.

That was weird.

I did vote for Steve Berch on my absentee ballot though. Mostly because he is less republican than the other guy – not because I made his campaign guy go away by looking at him.

Speaking of the absentee ballot, I made the mistake of the using the ballot request form that came in the mail attached to some republican propaganda. Apparently they rigged that form to alert every republican candidate in the state that I had an absentee ballot. I promptly got phone calls and propaganda asking me to vote for Tom Luna on my absentee ballot.

Well that was a dirty trick. Kind of like when Microsoft tries to fool you into changing your default search engine to bing by using some ambiguous language in a pop-up box. I bet how to change your default search engine to google is one of the top things binged.

Right. Anyway, I got seven different pieces of political propaganda in the mail Saturday. I also received a baggy of propaganda on my door knob. I received the aforementioned personal visit. Not to mention the three phone calls, two from a machine and one from a real person.



I am pretty sure that next election I will vote for any candidate that signs an oath not to send me propaganda, place propaganda on my door knob, sends a lackey to talk to me, sends a lackey to call me, or pays a computer to leave me a phone message.

Oh yeah, and I will vote for anyone who promises to make phonebook guy stop putting phonebooks on my doorstep. Especially the phonebooks with bsu theme covers.

Damn.

So I have been rocking past this message for like 35 years now.



For the first time the other day I realized that I don’t have a forest, much less forests.

It kind of pissed me off you know. I don’t have a forest and besides, who the hell is this dam guy to tell me what to do with them if I did. I mean really. I am guessing that the forests upstream were greener before they were inundated with water. I don’t know, maybe I am wrong.

I am a little surprised that it took so long for me to become cynical enough to realize that I don’t have any forests. I mean, in the past I probably just thought they were referring to the national forests which are supposed to be everyone’s forests. Yeah, now I know they definitely not my forests – they belong to loggers, ranchers, and miners and are managed by judges.

Anyhow, right, I don’t have any forests. I don’t have any dams either. If I did have a dam I wouldn’t use it to tell people how to manage their forests. I might use it to tell people how I manage my dam, something like this…



Or maybe I would do something like this…



Or if it was near Boise, maybe this…



Damn. If only I had a dam.

They're Back

I wasn’t sure that it is fall before, but I am now. That’s right, the annual migration of the plywood coyotes from their high country summer range to traditional winter range has begun.



I spotted these bad boys back out a Sandy Point today. I am sure they will be there mocking errant fowl and haunting cyclocross racers the rest of the fall and winter.

I also spotted these recently at a local yuppy suburbanite subdivision.



Leave it to yuppy suburbanites to add a new dimension to the plywood coyote paradigm. (Look, I used the word paradigm!) Yeah, that’s right, Californian Coyotes. Three-dimensional and undoubtedly made of something other than plywood. I am afraid these ones will be short lived though. They look entirely too shootable, not to mention theftable.

They will learn after they have lived here a while – maybe even before they buy their first bronco car flag and window sticker.

They should sell that stuff in packages. Bronco stuff, not coyotes. You could get a car flag, a window sticker, bsu alumni license plate holders (degree included), and maybe a bsu stadium seat pad for like $49.95. You could upgrade to an MBA for like $79.95, but hell, why not go for the Ph. D. package with two car flags, three window stickers, alumni license plate holders (Ph.D. included), stadium seat pad, and the much coveted bronco rock – all that for say $129.95.

I was being nice about bsu until their president called me nasty and inebriated. He doesn’t even know the half of it.

Anyhow, yeah. Fall is here and the plywood coyotes are coming. Soon they will be swamping the city like tattered and sun faded bronco flags.

It Makes Me Feel Better

I saw this deal on the internets yesterday that was like a flow chart of all the different kind of facebook profile pictures. I got all excited because I thought it was going to provide some analysis of what your profile pic says about you – but I was a little disappointed. I mean, there was a little about that, and it was pretty good, but a little brief.



And a little wrong. I mean all that stuff about what pictures with only a portion of your face mean was complete bull crap. If you have a facebook pic that only shows part of your face it means one of two things. Either you are lazy or technologically inept. Really, you are either too lazy to move the picture around to show your mug, or you are too stupid to know how to do it.

A few things I would like to add...

If your profile picture has friends in it, your identity has an unhealthy connection to those of your friends. Especially if your friends look very similar to you.

If your profile picture has extended family in it your identity has an unhealthy connection to your family. I mean family is good, its even ok to look like them, but its ok to step away.

If your profile picture has one of your kids in it you lost your identity somewhere along the line – you should change your profile name to ‘so-and-so’s dad’. If your profile pic only has your kid and not you – well you are hiding behind your kid. That’s unhealthy. You should just change your profile name to your kids and give up.

If you are a guy and your profile pic is primarily your wife or gf you are probably bragging. You know, like ‘yeah, I hit that’. That is probably unhealthy.

If you are a girl and your profile pic is primarily your husband or bf your identity has an unhealthy connection to your significant other. Either that, or you are bragging. You know, like ‘yeah, I hit that’.

If your pic has you and a famous person in it you have an unhealthy fascination with famous people. That’s not good for your identity. If your pic just has a famous person and no you, well, that’s even worse. You got issues.

If your pic is from a perspective below you and looking up you have an unhealthy inferiority complex and having a fb pic like that is the only way you can make yourself feel better about yourself.

If your pic is from above looking down at you, your identity is unhealthily tied to your cleavage and you are probably a junior high girl. And like the other article said, you may be a slut.

If your pic is of you in some sporting equipment your identity has an unhealthy connection to your hobbies and you should spend more time with your family.

If your pic is of you at work, well, you should change it. Unhealthy connection to work. The most unhealthy connection of all.

If your profile pic is some sort of landscape you want people to think you are deep and contemplative. But you probably aren’t.

If your profile pic is of you and a dead animal you harvested – you should just change it to one of your face that is taken from a lower perspective. See above.

If your profile picture is someone other than you, you are paranoid. Or in jail. Or will be in jail. Jail is unhealthy.

I could go on, but you probably get the picture. If you have a fb profile pic you are probably unhealthy. If you have a fb account without a profile pic you have the stock fb phallic symbol assigned to your profile. This probably means you are too smart to get involved in fb, but you are afraid to be left behind by your friends (virtual or otherwise). This is unhealthy.

Yeah, so fb is unhealthy.

I have to go update my status.

I Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

Sorry, I have been lost in Portland for the last 2 months.

Not literally mind you, I haven’t been in Portland for 2 months, it’s just that the last time I remember my brain working was when I was in Portland.

Maybe I lost it when I was lost. That’s the thing about Oregon – they do a good job of placing signs to get you places, but not such a good job getting you out of places.

Yeah, I went to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. It was very sciency and industrious. When I left I got lost. I was in the middle of hundreds of blocks that looked like Boise’s north end. There were little Hyde Parks everywhere.

All the people there were busy trying to be eclectic. And wearing knit hats. I think that the more people there are trying to be eclectic the harder it becomes – pretty soon everyone is eclectic, then no one is eclectic because eclectic becomes the norm. I think that is where Portland is.

Anyway, I don’t know. I am not very eclectic, but I was a girl scout once.

Right, so everyone was wearing knit hats and riding bicycles. Which was cool. I mean the bike part. Knit hats are good too, but I think helmets go better with bicycles. And knit hats don’t really go with helmets – I have seen it done and it isn’t pretty.

Portland reminded me of a ‘Wheres Waldo?’ book. Not sure why, it just did.
I think I may go back some day. Some day when I have a little bit more time to be lost. I will take a knit hat and some spoke cards.

What Do Your Lungs Smell Like?

You know what I hate? I hate it when I role up to a stop light on my bike, and the someone in the car next to me has their cigarette hanging out the window. Yeah, hanging out of the window on a lazy gay limp wrist.

Because, you know,they don't want their car to smell like ass.

I don't get it. I mean I do get not wanting your car to smell like ass. The part I don't get is thinking that having a car that smells like ass is worse than having lungs and breath that smells like ass.

It's like - oh no, can't have any of that crap in my new car - then they sneak it in for a quick second to suck the ass smell into their lungs. I mean whats up with that?

OK, just had to get that off my chest. I feel better now.

Happy Sunday.

My Summer Vacation: Part II

Right, so after the highly relaxing fire alarm on Friday night we rocked all the touristy stuff over the weekend.

At the Newport harbor they have a variety of touristy things highlighted by the quadrilla of the Ripleys Believe it or Not Museum, the wax museum, the questionable aquarium, and the butterfly house thing.

If you haven’t ever been to a Ripleys Believe it or Not Museum it usually starts with a itty bitty shrunken head and goes downhill from there. The only thing that you can’t believe is that you just paid real money to see that stuff. Yup, everything in there is significantly more believable than the stuff you can read on some fb pages I know of.

There are a several aquariums of variable quality in and around Newport, but the first one we went to first was the one right on the main drag in the old harbor. It looks roughly like someone sunk a boat and filled it with ocean crap. It is basically a big circular tank filled with all those ocean things that are hard to kill. You know, because all the stuff that wasn’t hard to kill is already dead. It’s the ocean equivalent of the gold fish in your fish tank at home – you know, the gold fish that are the only things left alive after all the fancy fish die. So yeah, we went there.

We also went to the wax museum. It pretty much sucked ass. There was exactly one realistic looking wax dude. Unfortunately it was wax Johnny Depp. Not the 21 Jump Street era Johnny Depp. More like the Edward Scissor Hands era Johnny Depp. Or maybe the Captain Jack Sparrow era Johnny Depp. I gotta say, it was pretty creepy. The only thing that could have made it creepier is if it were the real Johnny Depp.

I think the final part of the quadrilla was the highlight. Yup, at the Butterfly House thingy they didn’t have all the hang-ups that normally go along with that kind of place. That’s right, you can touch the bugs – err insects.

I enjoyed looking at the sea lions in the harbor. Well, that is until a guy strolled up alongside me and started spouting about how many of them there are now compared to the old days – and how they are eating all the fish. I rolled my eyes and walked away instead.

The Oregon Coast Aquarium was pretty good. They lost me when I saw the turkey vulture exhibit though. I mean seriously, who puts a turkey vulture exhibit at an aquarium? Think, it’s not exactly a marine animal is it? Besides, I really don’t like exhibits about things that are readily observable outside of said exhibits. I saw a handful of them gnawing on a road killed deer the very next day for Christ’s sake! Ugh.

I am pretty sure, by the way, that Oregon is the road kill capital of the world just based on variety. Did you know they have opossums there? Yeah, go figure. Either that or big white rat things.

We also did the beach thing. Flying a kite, playing in the surf, looking for shells, just hanging out, getting sun burned in 60 degrees and overcast. Ultimately though, no matter what you call it – being at the beach is just jamming sand into your cracks and orifices. But yeah, anyway, we did a bunch of that.

I didn’t really see any exciting bike stuff there, besides the fact they had bike lanes. At least I think they were bike lanes, I don’t see many of them here. Oh yeah, and they had a sign that flashed when there was a bike on the bridge over the harbor – I’m not really sure if it was a warning sign or some type of redneck beacon.

I did go to Portland though. The bicycling capital of the world from what I hear. Kind of strange that the bicycling capital of the world is located within the road kill capital of the world. Yeah, I’ll save that story for part three.

My Summer Vacation: Part 1.

So there I was, almost asleep, when I hear someone running down the hallway of the hotel yelling ‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ I’m laying there thinking, Seriously? There can’t seriously be someone running down the hall yelling fire at 11 p.m.

It had been a long day already. The family and I took a little roadie from Boise to the Oregon coast. Its not really that far, but liberal Oregon has this conservative speed limit, and they strictly enforce it – especially for out of staters. Ugh. Its one thing to have a speed limit 10 mph lower than the surrounding states, but it’s a whole other thing to actually enforce it. I mean really, in Idaho the speed limit is 75 on the interstate. You have to go 85 before a cop even notices you. More like almost 90 to actually get pulled over. Oregon has a speed limit of 65 and you have to go about 68 before you get pulled over and get a ticket.

So yeah, anyway I was a little tense when we rolled into Newport. It made me want to run around yelling Fire! Fire! Fire! So when I heard the person running up and down the hall yelling I thought I knew why – just releasing tension right? I was pretty sure I was going to have to kill them anyway.

So while I was laying there contemplating all that, the person makes the return trip running and yelling FIRE! I’m thinking ‘wow, that person is really wound up!’

The third trip down the hall the person actually knocked on all the doors and said something about evacuating and not using the elevators. I thought that was a nice touch – I mean, I wouldn’t have thought of that. Impressed as I was, I was just as pissed off – because you know, I was almost asleep – just right there, I could taste it. Alas, to have it yanked away by some joker.

It was about then that the fire alarm went off. While I was pretty sure I could sleep through the person yelling if I tried hard enough, I was equally sure that I couldn’t sleep through the fire alarm.

I was also starting to think they meant it.

So the wife and I get out of bed. Running outside in my underwear would be unsavory so I threw on some clothes. I grab my computer in one arm and my still sleeping son in the other. You know, God save the internet. I’m wondering how long the hotel wireless will work while the hotel is burning down.

Anyhow my wife grabs some stuff and we head out with all the confused people. Everyone rushes to safety right outside the hotel door.

If you haven’t been to the Oregon coast it is kind of cold and breezy. Especially when your fly is unzipped. Nice, I didn’t burn up but I did show my bits to everyone.

Right, well we go sit in the car. There are two fire trucks with dudes putting on their oxygen tanks and grabbing equipment. Then the third truck pulled up. And then the ladder truck. Until that point I was pretty sure the hotel would not burn down because that only happens on tv. But the ladder truck – that’s serious shit right?

I was glad I left the camera in the car – I was going to get some great footage.
The dude in the car next to us whipped out his laptop and was testing to see how long the wireless would work.

After a while all the firemen came out all dejected like and started putting their gear away. They let everyone go back in.

Excellent way to start off a relaxing vacation…

Best Place to Live?

Damn. The Statesman’s website reads a bit like Boing Boing today…



Man arrested after attacking pop machine with a hatchet? It’s better than you think – dude thought he heard voices inside. I wonder if he tried quarters first or if he went straight for the hatchet. Good to know Boise has it’s share of meth addicts.

You know, in case I ever find myself stuck inside a coke machine.

Then there is the one where the Boise man stole the women’s panties. I gotta admit, I didn’t read this one. I am assuming that she was not in them at the time.

Creepy. Maybe he heard voices inside.

How about the one with the guy who bit his roommates nose off? Yup, don’t see that every day. I was really surprised to see that it was Samwise Gamgee.



I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, didn’t somebody get a digit bit off in that movie?
Nineteen year old falls off table rock, blah, blah, blah.

And then, 3 out of 5 Idaho high school students have not had sex despite trying desperately. Future isn’t looking so bright.

Also note the unfortunate news that another cyclist has been killed by a motor vehicle. Nothing good happens when you ride in the middle of the road at midnight with no lights.

Too bad the story about Boise being voted the best place in the west to live by Outside Magazine isn’t up anymore. That would have been the icing on the cake.

It's a Trap

Now I’m no trapper survivalist guy, but I know a dead fall trap when I see one.



Actually, this is the first one I have ever seen. You know, other than the ones I tried to build when I was a kid to, um, ‘catch’ the neighborhood animals.

Don’t worry. I never really ‘caught’ any of them.

Yeah well, I am pretty sure they are using this one to get cyclists behind Ben’s Crow Inn. Ride fast and you should be ok. I suppose Parks and Recs would fix the dead fall trap, but they are too busy tearing up the gb in Boise.

I was rocking to work on the gb the other day and I see this little sign, it says ‘gb closed ahead’ – but it was all folded up on the side of the path so I thought surely it didn’t mean it. Then a little further there was another sign, it said ‘gb closed’ – but all the yellow tape and cones were in a pile over on the side so I thought surely that doesn’t mean closed for me. Then the path turned to dirt. It was kind of packed so I used my mad road bike on dirt skills to ride Roubaix section.

Well I rode the Roubaix section till I came around the corner and saw angry contractor guy with his heavy equipment. Me being the angry cyclist I was not intimidated by angry contractor guy, but I am intimidated by heavy equipment so I abandoned the gb and did the Tour de Parkinglots the rest of the way to work. The whole thing was a bit asshatish of me.

Anyhow, speaking of signs I saw this guy the other day…



Worst. Job. In. The. World.

Not only could you be replaced by a stick at any given time, you have to dress like banana.

But I guess times are bad so the banana should just be happy to have a job. I wasn’t aware just how bad it is until I saw a begger down town holding up an imaginary sign – yup, sitting on the corner holding up his hands as if there were a sign in it.

I would have taken a picture, but I was too busy dodging Jaialdi revelers. I think jaialdi may be Basque for ‘walk in traffic like an arrogant prick and just assume all the cars will stop for you’. That appeared to be what it meant to a lot of people downtown anyway.

Twilight Crit '10

The twilight crit was the other week. It’s definitely the biggest bike race in the area every year. I think it has something to do with the time of day, the location, and the proximity to beer. And then there is the likelihood of crashes. Everyone loves beer, and everyone but those involved love bike crashes – so it’s a perfect storm.

Twilight is and expensive crit. Not expensive in that it costs a lot to race in it. Expensive in that it costs a lot to crash in it.

See, I have this theory, ‘the theory of criterium expensiveness’. The theory is that it costs more when you crash while turning right than while turning left. See, when you are turning right and crash your bike falls on its bits – and bike bits are expensive to repair. Indeed, some bits can’t be repaired at all – you just have to hope for a transplant.

Transplanting bits can be a tricky and expensive proposition, and should be avoided at all costs.

It’s interesting that almost all of the criteriums in town leading up to the twilight crit are of the less expensive left turn variety. So many left turns in fact, that I refer to it as the ‘left turn series’. So you practice turning left all spring, then all of the sudden the biggest race of the year only has right turns. Ugh.

And then there is the fact that one of the right turns is sharper than 90 degrees. So yeah, not only do you suddenly have to learn to turn right, you have to learn to turn sharp right. Throw in the fact that there are a bunch of new fast guys from out of town that you haven’t raced against before and you have to learn how to turn sharp right quickly while surrounded by dudes you don’t really know.

Yup, all that makes for an excellent place for a beer garden.

Now I am a mediocre bike racer at best, and somewhat less than mediocre at criteriums – so for my and all the other racers well being I generally avoid the Twilight Crit. Riding in it anyway. I like to watch it – you know, to see if anyone I know crashes, err, I mean wins. Yeah, wins. That’s what I meant.

My favorite part of the Twilight Crit is the 4/5 race early in the evening. I like to watch all the first time racers there. I love to watch the looks on their faces as they realize that bike racing is harder than it looks, and it looks pretty hard.
Yeah, they figure that they have ridden the Bob LeBow charity ride a few times, and even won the Greenbelt Roubaix in their imaginations – so they are ready for the Twilight Crit.

The last time I rode the Twilight Crit a guy showed up wearing cut-off levi’s. I wish I had a picture, but I was too busy turning left (it used to be a left turn race). Anyhow, yeah, I spent my entire race just making sure that I didn’t get beat by the cut-offs guy.

Not that I have anything against first time racers, I am all for new guys (and gals) racing bikes – I just think that the Twilight Crit is an unfortunate choice for a first race. Especially when there is a race the very next day designed for first time racers. I guess it does make for a better beer garden though.

Well anyway, I don’t really know what happened or who won – I only watched the 4/5 crit and part of the masters b. I am thinking that there were a bunch of right turns, a handful of crashes, and some dudes from out of town won.

Oh yeah, and there were some beers consumed.

I Saw a Logo Similar to This Once

Now that's what I'm talk'n about...

They're Better on S'mores

If you took a marshmallow, you know, a normal size one – not one of those giant ones and not one of those little ones and definitely not one of those tiny ones that you get in cereal or hot cocoa; I love those ones. Especially the clover shaped ones.

Anyhow, so yeah, if you take a normal sized marshmallow and then you take a pretzel stick – a normal sized pretzel stick, not one of those rold gold pretzel twists; if you take one of those and shove it through the middle of the marshmallow – it was just like that.

So when you first hit it it’s a little mushy. Not a lot mushy just a little soft. But then the outer part of the mallow breaks and it gets a little bit greasy. Actually a lot greasy but only for a second. And somewhere in that second you feel the pretzel break – you know, feel it, not hear it. And then your back wheel there is a bit of displacement – not a lot, just a little because it is only a normal sized marshmallow not one of those big ones. Disturbing, but not scary.

So yeah, if you run over a marshmallow with a pretzel in it while riding your bike it would be almost exactly like running over a chipmunk. I know because I did it on Saturday. Ran over a chipmunk, not a marshmallow. I never thought of my bike as a weapon, but, well, there you go.

It’s not like I meant to. I was coming down Bogus going at about 35 and the little bastard runs across the road in front of me and then at the last second changes its mind and goes back – under my front wheel. That’s when the marshmallow analogy kicks in. It was just like that only a little less sweet. And with a tail.
He’s still up on the road around milepost 12ish I think right about tree line.
You don’t see that every day.

Speaking of things you don’t see every day – I saw this the other day.



Actually I guess you could see it every day if you hung out with 12 year olds, but you don’t see 30 year olds rocking bitch on the handlebars every day. The best part was that the chick was screaming “Run it, Run it” in regard to the red light that they were approaching.

They were also approaching the homeless shelter. Not surprising. The route to the homeless shelter is littered with unfortunate decisions – decisions like riding bitch on the handle bars.

Now you might think I am being mean. You are probably right, I am being mean. It’s payback for when I rode past said homeless shelter the other day and the clientele mocked me for my nice bike and cute bike outfit. Seriously. If you are rocking all your worldly belonging on your body and waiting in line for your next free meal you have no room to mock dudes.

I wanted to say “Hey guys, guess where I am going? Hooommmmeeee.” But I didn’t. I wrote this instead.

I should go back by today and tell them I know where there is a free chipmunk.

Life is Crap

My wife saw this shirt and it reminded her of me...



I'm not really sure why. I mean, it doesn't make you think of me does it?

So she bought it and gave it to me. Yeah, well, I know the picture sucks. I took it after I drank a bunch of day old coffee that made me a little jumpy.

That's ok though, because the less you see of my man boobs the better off we both are.

Speaking of things I don't understand, I don't know why Lego started making a Laura Silsby character.



But they did.

Actually not really. That's just who I thought of when I saw that picture.

Ok, that's about all I have time for today. I have some things to figure out.

Professional Angryness

I hit the velocache jackpot this morning, check it out...



That’s right, an angrycyclist coaster. Perfect for beers and other beverages too.

Oh yes, I know you covet it – and that’s ok.

Speaking of angry cyclists, you may have seen this the other day at the TDF…



After seeing that I have to question whether I am really angry at all. I mean, I have never even thought about taking off my front wheel and whacking someone with it! Damn, I wish I would have thought of that.

I have always been a Carlos Barredo fan, but now? Now he is up there with Ben Day in bad assedness.

Think about it, you are pissed off at the end of the stage and someone is going to pay – most normal people would walk away or just get up in the guys grill and spew expletives. But Carlos? Well he deliberately removes his front wheel and tries to wrap it around a guys head – that is just awesome. I gotta say though, hitting someone with a race wheel, the front one in particular, is probably roughly equivalent to hitting someone with a wiffle bat. You know, like ouch! What did you do that for? It probably doesn’t even weigh a pound.

Maybe the other dude didn’t speak the same language so he had to go to the front wheel to the head – the international language.

You have to love the TDF. If you get stung by a bee and your face puffs up like this…



You can’t take cortisone without getting kicked out. But apparently you can try to wrap your wheel around another racers dome after a stage and stay in.

I’m thinking that I should change my logo to something like this in honor of Carlos…



That’s right ya bastards, how would you like a Spinergy Rev-X to the head! Now that’s a wheel to attack with – it’s also easy to draw – but that’s just a coincidence.

Angry Camping

So my wife went out of town to a conference for the week. I decided that I would take advantage of the opportunity to take my son camping and do other man things. We loaded up the truck and drove to eastern Idaho.

Eastern Idaho is many things, and far away from Boise is one of them. Another of the things is smelly. Well, actually, most of eastern Idaho is not smelly, but Pocatello has pretty much enough stink for that whole side of the state. Kind of like Lewiston has enough for all of northern Idaho, and Nampa has enough for all of southwest Idaho. It's like that old saying, 'all it takes is one stinky apple'. Or something like that.

Anyway we drove past beautiful Dubois up to Spencer and camped near there. I know, its a long ways to drive just to camp, but I also wanted to look at moose which is another blog post entirely.

Yeah we rocked over there and did a little tent camping.

Because trailer camping is for wimps.

And people who don't want to tow a trailer across the state.

So we rocked over and set up the tent-ster. I will admit that we had to set up shop in the Forest Service campground. Normally I would avoid that, but it seems my son hasn't yet embraced his birthright of championship camp pooping and prefers to use a camp bathroom.

See, I don't want to sound vain or anything but one of the things I am best at is camp pooping - location selection, log identification, execution, cover up - the whole bit. Yeah, if there were a camp pooping Olympics I would be golden. Maybe multiple times golden. I don't like to brag, but I am good.

Anyhow, yeah, my son hasn't embraced his heritage yet so we stayed at a campground. The first night was ok. The second night we had an invasion of idiots.

I was instructing my son on the finer skills of s'mores making when a few other campers rolled in. One with a woosy pop-up trailer, and the other with a weak land yacht. While one was popping up the other was firing up the generator - you know, so he could catch Glee on t.v. and fire up the climate controls. Wankers.

I hated them both immediately. It's in my nature. In nature.

Nice. I just typed that out loud.

Pop up lady almost immediately lost it when she saw a mouse. A little brown one with black and white stripes and bushy tail. Yeah, I nodded, the whole place was pretty much infested.

A little later the pop ups made hot dogs. Their 2~ish year old son (quite possibly the loudest, most annoying kid ever) immediate started babbling about 'dogs!', and 'eating!'. Mother pop-up was pretty much incensed by the thought of eating dogs and went on ad nauseam to her little boy about how they weren't eating dogs.

I don't think he was listening. He seemed more interested in the little striped mice. You know, I thought it was entertaining though. Some people need to get over their hang ups.

I would eat dogs if the tasted good, but I really don't think they would. I mean, I have a dog that eats poop! I'm just saying.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Generator guy stopped generating and pop-up people turned in. Around 2 a.m. though I woke up to foot steps just outside my tent. I decided to make some noise hoping that whatever it was would go away - well, I did, and it did, right to the bathroom.

Pop up wanker walked right between my tent and pickup to go to the outhouse. Really? Seriously? I decided that's what I would say in my best tent voice when the dude came back by 'seriously?' It was either that or shoot him.

Unfortunately he didn't come back by - he took the trail on the way back. Asshat.

I thought of getting up and taking a leak by their trailer. Not to be a smart ass, mind you. Just to show them you don't have to walk all the way to the outhouse. Yeah, but I didn't want to start a pissing match. I was in a tent remember.

Oh God, I just typed that out loud too.

Instead I just got up early and made a lot of noise. It made their kid cry. Does that make me a bad person?

Nevermind.

The best part is my son slept through it all - generator, pop-up people, and me getting up early. Yup, doesn't like pooping by a log but sure does sleep like one.

Well, this is dragging so here are the rest of what I learned on the trip...

1. For such a big animal moose are incredibly hard to locate.
2. The Pontiac Grand Am is pretty much the official pace car for white trash. I used to think it was the Mustang, but I was wrong. This trip proved it.

Not that I am calling you white trash if you own a Grand Am. It's just that your vehicle selection indicates a possible predisposition to trashy-ness.

Ok. I'm stopping now. Bye.

The Fiddler

Oh joy! Just heard that they are releasing salmon into the Boise River again. Good times! You know how I love to share the gb with triple wide stroller lady and extendo leash dog guy, yeah, well 8 foot salmon rod carrying, baggy wet wader wearing, looking at the river and not where you’re going salmon fisher guy is the best.

You know, I understand the desire to catch a big fish and all, I have caught one or two before and have tried to catch more than that – it is kind of fun. Actually, not just kind of – it is fun. But salmon fishing, salmon fishing I just don’t get.

Well, I get the fishing part I guess, but that part where you stand shoulder to shoulder with other fishermen – that part I don’t get. And that part where you have to try for hours to catch a fish – yeah, I don’t get that either. Um hmm, pretty much anything that you measure success in hours per – I’m not interested. Fish per hour I can do. Hours per fish – not so much. I mean really, if I wanted to stand shoulder with a bunch of guys and wait for an hour and a half for someone to score I would go to a bar and watch world cup soccer.

At least there your hands are free to drink beers. Yeah, I am pretty sure world cup soccer is better than salmon fishing.

Besides, you know those fish that they dump in the Boise River? Well, they are hatchery rejects. They swam up to the hatchery trap and the hatchery didn’t want them. I have worked at fish hatcheries before. There are fish there with two heads. Its not uncommon, and hardly worth mentioning to hatchery people.

Yup, they are ok with two headed fish – but those ones they just dumped in the Boise River? Well, they didn’t want those. Ruminate on that one.

Yeah, if they had hatcheries for deer the deer they released in the Boise River would have five legs. All the better to swim with I guess.

If they had hatcheries for cyclists they ones the released into the Boise River would be this one.



So the picture sucks. It's not like I get paid for this or anything.

Yes, with aero bars mounted up high so he can use them while sitting up (I love that), and of course the violin case on his back, you know, in case he wants to stop and do some fiddling. Yeah, he's the fiddler.

Good fishing everybody. Happy 4th.

Seasonal Smells

It’s starting to warm up in b-town and that means it is starting to smell like butt. I think last Friday was the worst, probably the buttiest smelling day in the history of Boise. I mean, it was just rank. Don’t get me wrong, it was no Pocatello – and definitely couldn’t match the aroma of Lewiston, but it was pretty stanky. Maybe right about even with Nampa. Actually, maybe it was Nampa just stinking over into Boise.

This morning rocking the gb on the way to work I noticed that poop island down by the Shilo Inn was starting to wreak of well, you know, poop. Probably because that’s where the bums go to live, and poop. Some mornings it smells more like fried spam than poop, but these are hard economic times so there is no smellerific spam, just poop. I try to hold my breath when I ride through there.

That’s as close as I have come to training lately, holding my breath for a quarter mile on the gb. Unless you count velocache as training, then I have been training a bunch. And I think I am getting better. At velocache, not bike racing.

I thought for a while that the new seasonal smells may be my new baggies. That’s right, I got some new baggies for fathers day. They are rocking the spandexy inner liner, but without those undesirable cottage cheesy holes I talked about the other day. Much better.

They do have this little dippy downy part in the front of the liner by the zipper though – I assume that it is to make it easier to whip it out and take a leak. I hate it when people have to stop and take leaks during bike rides. I mean jesus dude, just because you can take a leak anywhere doesn't mean you should. And if you have to pee like every hour on a ride you aren't riding hard enough. Mix in some medication or something.

Yeah, they meant to make it easier to take a leak, but in reality they made it so you have to jam your bits all over to the side so you don’t get any rubbage from the zipper. I would gladly exchange a little difficulty in whizzing to prevent rubbage and having to go all Crying Game to get your bits out of trouble.

So anyhow, it wasn’t the shorts. The smell I mean, it wasn’t the shorts. I checked you know.

I gotta say that I have found the new baggy shorts liberating though. I got passed by a dude the other day and didn’t feel the need chase him down and pass him back. I even rode no hands for an entire mile the other day before I got embarrassed and used my hands. I also have to say I have found passing people wearing spandex while I am wearing baggies particularly enjoyable.

I decided that if wearing baggies was so good, that maybe I should try wearing regular clothes. Like without pads in the butt. Turns out, that wasn't so good. I can ride about 16.3 miles without padded britches before my taint turns to pancetta. Yeah, that was significantly below average. I am glad I have already met my kid quota.

So I am going to go make a velocache now.

Gun Locks for Bikes

Because where I come from people are more afraid of people on bikes than guns.

And you can get gun locks free from the sheriff.

Abnormal

So I saw today that Tour de France contender Alberto Contador will miss the Spanish National Championship as he has come down with the flu. Rrriiiggghhhttt. The flu in June. Yeah, in the world of professional cycling saying you have the flu (or the ever popular intestinal virus) is just code for "I have pending abnormal blood values".

Speaking of abnormal blood values I saw Franco Pellizotti at the shaved ice shack today. Yeah, that's him in his Liguigas polka dot jersey. Really. Well, maybe.



Yeah. Speaking of shaving I had my first Orangina the other day. I have to say it was pretty spectacular, like if you mixed orange juice and orange soda.



It made me feel pretty much all rocked up and animaltastic like this...



Of course I am pretty awesome like that all the time. Except for that hair, I don't have that. Then there is the bear head. Mine is pretty large but other than that pretty much normal (that's what she said)(there, I said it for you). So anyway, just like that picture except the hair, and the bear head. Then there are the muscles. I can definitely do that thing with the bottle though, and stick my tongue out too.

So yeah, I felt pretty much exactly like that bear thing and it feels good indeed to be the bear thing. Creepy, but good. I am pretty sure that there would have been voluptuous animals singing and dancing everywhere, but I never made it out after I drank the Orangina.

I will definitely have another one. Maybe right now...

Dr. Evil

A few years ago I went to my Optometrist and explained to him how when I was reading a book and then looked up at something else further away it would take a second for my eyes to refocus. He looked at me, laughed, and said 'it's only going to get worse'.

That was very reassuring for a guy who was pretty sure he was going blind. Turns out I was just getting old. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there is really a difference.

The next year I went to the optometrist and explained to him how I had spots in my vision - like little dark blotches that followed my eyes around. I was pretty sure I had a brain tumor or something. He laughed at me and told me to get used to it - I would probably only get more. Turns out floaters don't kill you, unless you get annoyed to death.

The next year when I went to the optometrist he dilated my eyes. I thought I was pretty much ok until I about passed out I my way out of the office. It seems that it happens sometimes to wimps like me. One of my friends suggested that I haven't done enough recreational drugs to get myself used to having pupils the size of pancakes.

So you may be able to understand why I was a little bit apprehensive about going back to the optometrist today.

I told him about how I about passed out last year. He gave me that look that you get from people when they know that you know that they got you by the balls. Yeah, that one. Perhaps in honor of my acknowledgment he decided not to turn my pupils into flying saucers today.

Nope, no flying saucer eyeballs today - but I did get the brain scramble. I get that pretty much every time. He makes me look at letters and lights and puffs of air until my head is just about to explode - then he stops.

I am pretty sure that he could make my head explode if he wanted to. Yeah, just the right combination of lights and letters and puffs then pop goes my head. I think they learn that in optometry 101. Head popping.

I only got 364 days to worry about next year.

Miscellaneous Asshattery

A while back I was talking to a friend who told me that he had decided to dress like a bike commuter when he was, you know, commuting - and dress like a bike racer when he was racing or training. Now its hard to argue with that logic, so I decided I would give it a try too.

Back in like 1995 when my parents found out that I was wearing spandex and shaving my legs they bought me a pair of baggie bike shorts. I think they were hoping I didn’t turn into a spandex clad biker fag. It must have been too late, because I have worn the shorts almost exactly once in the last fifteen years.

Well, until last week that is – when I decided to dress like a bike commuter. So yeah, the shorts have these cutesy little spandex mesh shorts inside the baggy outside shorts. I find them disturbingly similar to those running shorts with the built in underwear. Those are the worst item of clothing ever invented. Those or tube tops.

So yeah, I had thing major psychological barrier to get over from the start. I don’t want to be built-in underwear running shorts guy – that’s just wrong.
Eventually I did get the shorts on and rode to work. I was a little disturbed the entire time because the outer shorts kind of rode up my leg a little bit and exposed the meshy undershorts, and my pasty ass leg below. It was like squishing cottage cheese through a fish net. Not attractive.



I assure you that my leg looks decidedly fatter and cottage cheesier in real life, but you get the idea.

I’m not sure how this dressing like a commuter is going to work out.

Speaking of disturbing, I am sure you all saw the story about the 74 year old lady dumping mayonnaise in the book drop at one of the local libraries. You know, like the open jar of mayonnaise. It is suspected that the mayonnaise is just chaser for some other choice items that she dumped in there – corn syrup, honey, miscellaneous fluids. One of my friends thinks she is a school lunch lady, but I am pretty sure she is the bus driver from South Park.



Angrysaurus rex.

My favorite part is that she is packing heat on the passenger seat in her car – probably so she can bust a cap in the librarian if they catch her in the act. The man is everywhere you know.

The cops haven’t released a motive, but most people assume she has library fines or something. Not me, I think she is pissed because the library is distributing literature that is inconsistent with her moral and religious beliefs. I am almost positive she is the one who scratched all the potty words out of my copy of Catcher in the Rye.

Yep, we share the streets with this lady – and apparently the library too.

Asshat.

In regard to sharing the streets, local rumor has it that someone is spreading goatheads on Hill Rd in Boise. A rash of flat tires caused by a ridiculous number of goatheads (which, by the way don’t really start goatheading till August) has been reported by many.

Holy crap! The fact that someone wants to inflect suffering on cyclists on Hill Road doesn’t really surprise me, but I am having a hard time grasping that someone must have actually collected all of these goatheads in the first place. Hours toiling in the dusty, pokey vines to harvest your sinister little crop of evil goatheads – who who who haa haa haa who who who haa haa haa haa! That was an evil laugh by the way - try it out loud. No, really - try it out loud. Ok.

Tacks would have been easier.

And I thought the weather was making me crazy. This poor bastard has been sitting on his harvest since last fall, patiently waiting for the weather to warm up to bring out his prey.

Asshat.

Losing It

I about lost it on Saturday. Lost my marbles. Fell off my rocker. Came unhinged. Went postal. Certifiable. Mental. Gone bananas.

Yup, almost.

I was riding home all spandexed up in my LOOK!y kit. I stopped behind a car in the left turn lane from Main St in Eagle onto Eagle Rd – the light was green but the car in front of me was waiting for oncoming traffic. I was doing likewise.

The asshat on the bicycle behind me couldn’t be bothered to wait.

He zipped to my left, to the left of the car in front of me, cut off the oncoming car which was turning right, cut off the other oncoming car that was going straight, and nearly ran over a pedestrian in a cross walk. All that in one maneuver. While wearing white tube socks.

Considering where I was riding from, and the reason that I rode there I went berserk. Do you remember that game on the Atari? That was a good game – except for the part where the robots would walk into the walls by themselves. That was kind of odd.

Anyway, yeah, I was pretty much nuts. I waited for my turn through the intersection then chased like hell so I could lay into the jack ass. I am about to catch him at a red light and tell him about how he is making us all look bad by riding like a moron, and how you shouldn’t wear spandex knickers and white tube socks together – but the wanker runs the red light. Not like stops and looks both ways runs the light, like swerves over into the crosswalk and rides across the intersection without slowing down runs the red light. Yeah, like it is ok to run a red if you are in a crosswalk. Shitweasel.

I was more than a bit imbalanced when the light finally changed, and I took off like a rocket. I am just about to catch the bastard and tell him about red light laws, and that it is never ok to wear spandex bottoms with a t-shirt – especially a long sleeved t-shirt – then the ass-monkey runs another red light. Un-freaking believable.

At that point I think I was slobbering. I was rocking a minor case of derangement. When the light changed I probably went as fast as I ever had on a bike. I was about to catch the guy and punch him, and tell him that you can’t wear a camelback and ride a road bike – then he goes for the trifecta. Yes, three run red lights in a row. Stupid double up f-nut! I am pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head. Drivers were starting to notice.

Look at that slobbering, blathering, spandex clad biker with flames coming out his butt! I think he is going to kill that other guy!

So I am a couple hundred yards behind the knuckle dragger, he is going through another light – green this time! Of course he is riding up inside a car that is about to turn right in front of him, and has been signaling its intention to do so for a while. Luckily the driver had more sense than he did and waited for him.

The light is also at the intersection where I turn to go home. Should I keep chasing the butt ranger and explain to him about riding like a NYC bike messenger and its effect on others, or should I go home? I turned and went home to my family. I hope dickweed in the tube socks made it home to his.

VeloCache

Now that the all important LP200 is over I am left with a void. What should I do with all that time that I would normally train? I mean, I guess I could train more – but really, I’m sick of racing bikes so I think I am done doing that.

How lucky was I to stumble across this on someone else’s blog. VeloCache. Yeah, so you the idea is that you hide some crap, then you post some semi-obscure pictures of it on a webpage so other people can find it. Or you can just go out and find other peoples crap, but I imagine finding and not caching is the karmic equivalent of killing small woodland creatures or drinking coffee at the office without contributing to the coffee fund.

So I looked at the site and decided to give it a try, seems how I knew where like three of the caches were immediately by looking at the photos. It either means that I am way observant and have superior investigative skills, or that I ride my bike on the gb waaayyyy too much.

Yeah, anyway, I gave it a day then looked at the site again. A couple of the caches I had identified still hadn’t been found so I decided to check one out. I took a little nooner to pick it up.

I rode my racing bike to pick up the cache. I am sure that is more than a bit wankerish, but it is the only functional bike I have at the moment. Well, actually that’s not true. My tt bike still works, but I am guessing VeloCache on a TT bike would make me a superwanker, and despite my proclamations that I don’t care what other people think I don’t want to be labeled a superwanker on my first cache picking upping attempt.

So I found the cache, looked around, grabbed it, and stuffed it in my commuter bag. I don’t know why, but it felt vaguely like I was stealing something. It also felt vaguely like I was enjoying it.

Riding back to safety I was filled with anticipation. I was like a kid on Christmas. Or like a kid that just stole something and was anxious to get to safety and check it out. I mean, not that I would know what that felt like – because, you know, I was a good kid. Good as hell.

Anyway, finally I get to safety and open up the cache. Holy cool crap! I knew it would be good, but not this good! I mean right there on top was an un-used AOL cd, still in the cellophane wrapper! Right underneath that was bottle opener ring. That’s just bitch’n. Not to mention the PBR wristband – are you kidding me? I haven’t seen anything that cool since the natty lite bike. Damn. There was also a sweet carabiner cork screw, some chocolates, an energy drink, crystallize lemon, and a Boise Weekly sticker.

I just wanted to rock all that stuff right there. So I did…



Too bad I was at work or I would have tried out my various and sundry opening devices.

I immediately felt guilty, and needed make my own cache to make up for it. I made my own cache with stuff I scavenged in my office – including my much prized office yo-yo, little angry man action figure, and a partially used Barnes and Noble gift card - amongst other treasures. I know it isn’t as good as what I received, but I think it is a good start? I’ll let you know how it goes.

Maybe I will try again next week.

What Decade is it Anyway?

Coming back from a little noon time ride I saw this um, person, on the gb...



Of course the first thing I noticed was that she was roller skating. You know, like holy crap its 1970 and I am roller skating! As opposed to, well, holy crap its 1990 and I am roller blading.

I noticed because I am a very perceptive person. I usually notice when someone is zigzagging in front of me, sometimes even if they are not. There was the one time I hit this fence, but that is for another day.

So yeah, it's 1970 and someone is roller skating in front of me on the gb.

No, wait a minute, those colors - they are from the 1980's. It must be the day-glo 80's everybody. She has big hair too - must be the late 80's?

No, No, wait for it... That's not hair - it's dreadlocks! It's the 1990's everybody, is that Pearl Jam I hear? No, its Nirvana.

I could be wrong, she is rocking safety pads. That is very 2000's of her.

What decade is it anyway?

Whoa, that was weird.

Speaking of weird, my duck stalker is back. For a while I rationalized that it was just a duck nesting in my yard, but no, it's really a duck stalking me. He brought a friend today - you know to sneak up on me...



Fortunately I saw the little duck villains in time and hid behind my truck. I wasn't really that concerned until someone named Vacilando sent me this article the other day...

Tomorrow is Dead Duck Day

I think it means flapping in the wind in Spanish. Vacilando that is, not dead duck day.

Dead duck day is entirely different. Yes, it is the anniversary of the confirmation of homosexual necrophilia in ducks. I know you were wondering about that. I have the article if you want to read it. It's pretty much wrong on so many levels. Especially the part where the scientists debate whether necrophilia can be rape because of the whole consensual thing.

Uh huh,I'll save you the trouble and show you the highlight. Thats right, pictures...



Now that's something you don't see every day, and that's why I am now very concerned about my duck stalker(s). I don't want that to be me.

I think that's enough. Actually probably too much, but then it is what it is right?

A Damn Fine Lyle Pearson 200, err, 160something

I gotta admit that I was a more than a little disappointed with our early start time for the LP 200. See, the teams are all seeded and the teams expected to be slower start earlier. So there I was lining up to start, while in previous years I would have still been in bed.

So yeah, a little bummed, and a lot sleepy as we roll up to the start area. Ugh, don’t these people know how badass I am? I mean, just because I finished last in the spring series doesn’t mean I suck – I was just in a building phase, and had an injury, and my equipment was broken, and my coach told me to stay in zone 2, and I flatted, and I got boxed in, and I didn’t have any teammates, and I thought I would let some of the younger guys get some results. Yeah, that’s it. It had nothing to do with me being fat and out of shape, and, oh yeah, sucking.

Yup, that’s what I was thinking – but then I got there in the morning and realized that all of the most attractive people start early. That makes sense. I am a sexy bitch, why should I start with all those smelly, ugly dudes later? Why didn’t I figure this out earlier?

Uh hu, I rolled to the start line looking sexy and feeling good. Well, good for 6:30 anyway.

Stage 1.
My teammate Masi Johnny and I rode the first stage from Boise to Robie Creek. About 5 miles in, old Masi Johnny Atmos points out a giant flashing sign that says “ROAD CLOSED BETWEEN LOWMAN AND GRANDJEAN” or something like that. I figured that meant closed to everyone but us. I mean, this is the freak’n LP200 people. I was also thinking Masi wasn’t riding hard enough if he could still read and talk.
That’s pretty much it for that stage. We passed some other beautiful people and got passed by some beautiful people. It took us like an hour – 5 or 6 minutes slower than my team last year, but 5 or 6 minutes faster than Masi’s team last year. So we were good on time, and more important looking good in our LOOK!y LOOK!y kits.

Stage 2.
WC and Fonts took the second stage. I took a seat in the motor home. I gotta say, the motor home was by far the best LP200 rig I have ever been associated with. Our driver/manager, I’ll call him the Godfather, kept things rolling smoothly. The other member of our little mafia was the photographer who I will call legs.
Well legs likes to talk. That is bad for mafias, but good for road trips. The second stage passed quickly. I am not sure how long it took – it was roughly equivalent to the time it takes to eat two grape uncrustables and drink a bottle of water. Maybe 40 something minutes.

Stage 3.
So Fonts committed the cardinal sin of LP200 riding by going back to back with stage 2 and 3. Riding stages back to back almost never ends well. Especially not stages 7 and 8. I know it looks like a good idea, but trust me – it isn’t.

Anyway, I tried to talk him out of it – but that’s what he wanted to do. Besides, who am I to stop him – especially if it mean I don’t have to ride to Mores Creek Summit?

I talked to Jason at the transition about the road closed sign. He told me to check with him later as there was a mud slide and they were checking into that. There has always been something a little mischievous about Jason.

Fonts finished the stage in 57 minutes and some change, which was a little faster than he did it last year. I think that is a major victory, because when you are that old not getting slower is a good thing.

Stage 4.
I have always thought that someone without kids should be the one to race stage 4 from Mores Creek Summit to Lowman – you know, because guys without kids are much faster downhill than guys with kids. Well, all of us had kids this year – but we did have WC, who was partly raised in England – and everyone knows the British are a bit off. So yeah, he went on the downhill.

While he was downhilling the rest of us rode the motorhome down. One of the topics of conversation was how bad it would suck to have to race back up that hill…

Stage 5.
So we find out in Lowman that the road is indeed closed and that we are racing back to Boise. Major bummer, mostly because someone has to ride back up to Mores Creek Summit. That someone is me. Significantly below average.

I pretty much just zoned out after that. Masi Johnny rode stage 5 solo, giving me about an hour to learn how to climb. I wasted about half of it making collect calls from a pay phone in Lowman – trying to prevent my wife from meeting me in Ketchum, or not meeting me as the case may be. I got lucky and my answering machine at home accepted my collect call and my wife got the message I left. What good luck!

What bad luck, I only had about a halfy now to learn how to climb. I had seen it done once on tv, so, you know, I had an idea what to do.

Stage 6.
About 3 miles in to the climb back out of Lowman I figured out how to climb. Turns out you just pedal. Huh.

I wasn’t feeling to stellar. Good, but not stellar. I was a bit blury eyed, but I did look around a bit. For wolves. Because, well, I know they are there somewhere. I mean, I know they don’t attack people – but if they were ever going to make an exception it would most certainly be a cyclist. And there I was, looking good with tasty shaved legs and all. No annoying hairs to get stuck between wolf teeth. Honestly, it’s not like I would have been hard to catch either.

So I’ve watched some nature shows so I know that they try to pick off the ones that look weak. I pretend that I feel good. It must have worked because I didn’t get eaten.

I felt safer when I passed some people that looked weak. That was near the top though, about where the climb starts sucking your will to live.

I think it took like 3 hours. The Godfather said 1:18 or something like that, but I am pretty sure he is wrong. 3 hours sounds about right. But I looked good doing it.

Stage 7.
So WC took this one – it being kind of downhill, and him being kind of British. He probably could have beaten us to the next transition but he didn’t. He caught up to a cute bird and was so enamored with riding in her vicinity that he couldn’t ride away from her. At least that’s my version and I am sticking to it.

Stage 8.
Masi Johnny jumped in and rode with WC down to Robie. It took some time, but I don’t really know how much because everything kind of went out the window somewhere around Lowman.

Stage 9.
Fonts rode the short stage from Robie to Hilltop. It took some more time.

Stage 10.
We all rode stage 10 down to East Junior High.

We finished 43rd I think, which really isn’t too good. But you carry a lot of extra weight when you look as good as we all do, so I’ll take it.

So overall, Team Lumberjack finally won it after a few years of coming close. I’m not sure, but I think they care more about this race more than anyone else – which is really kind of ironic. So yeah, they care and are obviously kick ass riders so they won. Props to them.

As in all cycling however, the strongest team doesn’t always win. The fastest team was ICO Exergy – so without time bonus mumbo juhumbo they were the winners. I gotta know though, when you have an Exergy guy on the back of a tandem does that count as half a stage or a whole one? Anyway, good job fellas.

Ride of the day was Rob Deeble. Hands down. So dude rides up the back of Mores Creek Summit, and when he gets there finds out his team left him and he has to ride the next stage too. Apparently after a slight meltdown he does it. So then after that he rests like a halfy and rides the hilltop and final stages too. Nice. 4 out or 5 stages. I am guessing they made him ride Mores Creek the first time as well. Nails.

Excellent beer and pizza at the end. Had to get that in there.

So that was it. A Lyle Pearson 200 fail, but a damn fine Lyle Pearson 160something.

Getting My Crap Together w/ Motorized Doping?

Twas the night before LP200 and all through the house, not a creature was stirring – except for me trying to get my crap together. How much crap you may ask? Well, as much as will fit in my bag – duh. That’s how much stuff I take everywhere, regardless of where I am going and what I am doing.

I have a taking crap places problem. If it fits, it goes.

That’s why I am a terrible backpacker, which is somewhat surprising because I was a professional backpacker once. I think I was supposed to be counting fish in the wilderness area – but I was backpacking more than counting, so the way I figured it I was a pro backpacker and part time fish counter guy.

Those were the days. De-hydrated food, miscellaneous blisters and boils, bears, moose, and mountain lions – oh my. And of course the crew member who couldn’t read a map.

So yeah, it was the night before LP200, but now it is like two days after the LP160something. I have some stuff to say about that, but it’s gonna hafta wait – because I wanted to talk about this stuff last week but didn’t get around to it because, you know, I was jamming stuff in my bag for the LP200. Maybe tomorrow I will write about the LP160 something, or maybe the next day. Definitely before Friday.

Have you seen the recent bit about motorized doping in cycling? It is especially nice. The video is in bitter Italian, but there are English subtitles.



So, I don’t know about you, but the first thing I thought was “I gotta get me one of those”! I mean, I have seen motorized doping before – but it was nothing like that.

What I saw looked more like a weed eater engine strapped to a bike. Actually I think it was a weed eater engine strapped to a bike. I was rocking down the gb on my way home one day and come up behind this dude. I knew something wasn’t quite right because – you know, there was a weed eater engine strapped to this guys bike. When I passed him he gave me the look and gunned it. Yeah, I think I wrote about it when it happened. It is over there somewhere -> in my history of angryness.

Anyhow, this new version seems much better. It made me want to have one – which made me think it may be an advertisement, or maybe a precursor to an advertisement. You know, develop a product – find a bitter ex-racer, accuse a high profile rider of cheating – then sell your product on the internet.

By the way, did you hear Al Gore is getting divorced? Go figure. Apparently trying to save the world isn’t so good for your marriage.

Sorry. Yeah. The only questions I had about the video is why didn’t they use Greg LeMond, and where can I get one.

As far as Fabian Cancellara is concerned, well, the only thing I have to say about him is that I thought he was pretty good in ‘Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs’.




That's the same guy right?

The other thing is that he looks enormous next to other bike racers – but in real life he is only slightly larger than a supermodel podium girl with roaming eyes. He probably weighs like a buck sixty.



OK, Bye. I’ll work on that LP160something entry.

Betty on the Back

In anticipation of the many painful hours I may be spending on my time trial bike this weekend I got myself a new bike seat. It looks like this…



Yeah, I know it is a cheap nastybar brand seat, but really, I ride that bike like three times a year so why should I spend a fortune on a nice seat? Besides, honestly, the bike is sorta a piece of shit – I mean, don’t tell it – but it’s not even a real time trial bike. Just a road bike with funny handlebars.

Putting a sweet Fizik seat on it would be like dropping a racing bucket seat in a Plymouth Neon, or maybe even putting a whale tale on a Chevy Cavalier. I mean, you can do it but whats the point.

Its kind of long and has a big knob end on it. The new seat. The new seat is a little long and has some extra padding on the front to protect my delicate taint while sitting in the tt position. It actually kind or reminds me of the banana seat on my first Huffy. That was bad ass. In a way I have come full circle back to the banana seat.

Speaking of banana seat I saw this the other day…



Yeah and speaking of full circle check out the nice steering wheel handlebar the wheelie kid is rocking. Not to mention all the space for a Betty on the back. Those were the good old days - banana seats, wheelies, no helmets, and racing lawn mowers.

High School Afflictions

I realized about halfway through the A’s that I really need a data plan for my cell phone. Yes, high school graduations may very well be why God invented the mobile internets. Or was that Al Gore? Or maybe Google. I’m not sure who made what anymore.

It’s not that I find graduations boring, you know, they just make me feel listless.

Yeah, I figure I have about 4 years to get myself some mobile internets before the next time I go to a high school graduation – when my nephew graduates.

Not that high school graduation is the only time I would need mobile internets. I mean, what if sometime I was a sign wiggly guy for Vaughn Ward…



Yeah, a little mobile internets would be good then too. I would call this a sign wiggly guy fail, but relative to the rest of the campaign it may be a success.

Anyway, so there I am at graduation. Listless. I decide to read the program, you know, because I didn’t have a book. I surf through all the names and draw a blank on people that I might know. Other than my niece. I should mention that – it was my nieces graduation.

And actually, I kind of think that with the proper environment and support anyone can graduate from high school – so graduation is more for the environment providers and supporters than the students. So it was more like my brother-in-law's graduation.

I always knew my brother-in-law was a supporter. I just wasn’t sure he could graduate high school.

Yeah, so, anyway. I get to the faculty section of the program. Thinking my chances of knowing someone in that list are better than my chances of knowing someone in the student list – me being old as hell and all. I didn’t know anyone, but I did find this gem…



Yes ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Roc Cox. Who let the students edit the graduation program?

I thought that roc cox was an affliction that you had while in high school, not a teacher. I know I had it off and on for like three years.

I would have googled it (roc cox), but, you know, I didn’t have any mobile internets.

Remarkably Unremarkable

My bicycle commute continues to be remarkably unremarkable. I hate to say it, but it is even bordering on the mundane. What the hell.

That’s it.

What the hell.

I have been seeing a lot of people rocking the gb with faces that look like this…



Some of them are in the process of discovering that the cute 50 pound cruiser bike they bought isn’t the most efficient choice for commuting. Its hard to look cute with a look like this on your face.

Others, well others are training hard for the Tour de France. Because, you know, the gb is the best place for training. I almost got taken out the by one the other day, I am pretty sure it was Lance Armstrong – because he was sporting a US Postal kit. Yeah, helps you understand why the Bike Nazi hates dudes that wear spandex.

Speaking of US Postal, apparently they were all doping. Go figure. Them, everyone in the NFL, professional wrestling, and Rush Limbaugh. Everyone except Tyler Hamilton – he has bits of a long lost twin inside him.

Note to Tyler, now would be the time to come clean and pile on.

I have been seeing this guy a bunch lately…



I don’t know if you can tell by the picture but dude always looks like his body wants to go left, but his bike wants to go straight. I am pretty sure he is a Republican, like Vaughn Ward – who wants to go left so bad that he steals Obama speeches – but keeps being carried to the right.



Too bad that guy lost the other day.

Right. Anyway. I call him the sidewinder. The guy on the bike, not Vaughn Ward. And not to his face, mind you – just in my head. I say to myself “self, there is that sidewinder guy again”. I call Vaughn Ward something different.

Strangely, I know sidewinder guy in a Kevin Bacon sort of way. We used to work in the same place and have some mutual friends. His name is, uh, sidewinder guy.

Ugh, here is hoping that I see something strange and wonderful soon.

Here We Go Again

So at the end of last cycling season I resigned from all of my bike racer herding responsibilities with my bike club. It seems that bike racers are a bit like cats, and as you may know I don't like cats, and I especially don't like herding them.

As part of giving up cat herding responsibilities I also gave up organizing a team for the Lyle Pearson 200. I have continued to race my bike this year, I am just not herding. And, as luck would have it, someone else invited me to be on their LP200 team.

Its coming up soon you know, the LP200. I am not sure how it is gonna go. See when I was doing the herding the first thing I did was choose 3 other riders that were at least 3 times better than me. It usually worked out pretty good, I let someone else ride all the hard sections - and just followed someone else in the easy sections. I was golden.

Well this year the fellows I am riding with are only 1.5 to 2 times better than me. I am a bit afraid that I may have to ride up a hill or otherwise suffer during this race. That could suck.

I am not too worried though, because what these guys lack in betterness than me they more than make up for in cool and funkiness. Yeah, they are cool and funky and that makes for a cool and funky time. I am riding with Johnny Atmos, WC, and Stinky.

Because there has to be a stinky in every group.

I just made that up.

I may come up with something better later. Two hundred miles is a long freak'n ways to ride bikes.

Worst. Week. Ever.

Nuts. This could possibly be the worst week ever.

First, convicted human trafficker , err, illegal transport arranger, Laura Silsby makes her virtuous return to Boise confident that she has been delivered by God.

Then comes the announcement that political monkey Sarah Palin is coming to town in support of Vaughn Ward. Rock on. Maybe she can teach him to write other politicians position statements on his hand instead of on his website.

Yeah, those two were gems for me – and that was just Tuesday.

So Wednesday I see this little symbol in the weather forecast…



Seriously? Snow? It’s almost effing June. Ugh, the climate change thing is turning out to be a real bitch.

Also Wednesday I start hearing rumblings about a Floyd Landis doping-palooza.

Thursday began the full blown Flandis doping-palooza, implicating pretty much anyone that good ‘ol Floyd ever rode with. Not that I think that most of it isn’t true – because most of it probably is. It just would have meant more if he would have said it before he stole money from people to defend his lies – and oh yeah outed Greg LeMond as a child abuse victim. Wanker.

That’s not even the half of it. Thursday I rocked non-matching socks the entire day. I didn’t even notice until I got back from a noon time ride. Classy.

Well, I guess looking on the bright side…

Laura Silsby can get a made for TV movie deal, and pay some of the many people she owes money to.

Sarah Palin, well I am glad that she is speaking in Boise – rather than as an elected official in D.C. – there is that.

The weather is the weather, and the weather will do what the weather does. Deal with it.

We know that the Tour of California has officially arrived because it has been used as a platform for doping allegations – just like all the other big races.

We are one step closer to seeing Floyd Landis playing Kid Rock covers at the county fair.

And at least my socks were similar in color. Sort of.

Oh yeah, then there was the news about scientist creating a living organism. I vote for flying monkeys next.

Its Friday.

Sometimes I Feel Like...

Ever get caught with your eyes wandering? Um yeah, me either.

Here is a rare double googly from the Giro introductions...



I wonder if David Millar has got the Rockwell feeling.

It Ain't What it Used to Be

I am a little disappointed. I started riding my bike to work more consistently a few weeks ago and I haven’t seen anything spectacularly strange. I think I may have lost my bike commuting mojo. It may be because I have been riding my racing bike to work.

Nothing says wanker, and scares off spectacularly strange events like riding an expensive bike to work on the gb. I normally ride my beater commuter bike to work, but see, I have three bikes and only about 2.5 bikes worth of bike bits – and right now the commuterpig is on the short end of the bit supply. Perhaps I will have to purchase some more bike bits. I never have enough bits.

Anyhow, I have seen the regulars – you know, double wide stroller lady, extendo leash dog walker guy, and too cool to move over gangsta hoodlums – but nothing great. The closest I have seen to greatness recently was no hands guy.

I really hate no hands guy. Rocking down the gb with an air of superiority because he has mastered the rocket science that is riding your bike with no hands. I can imagine meeting this guy in some social setting, he finds out you like to ride bikes, and he lets loose with – “ya know, I can ride with no hands”. Um, really?

It’s pretty hard you know. You have to let go of the handlebars and sit up. No half assed sitting up – then you will wreck, you need to sit up all the way. You steer the bike with your hips – just like you do when you have your hands on the bars, you just don’t notice it so much.
Great, now you can be no hands guy too.

It’s not that I don’t like no hands riding, I mean there is a place for it, but that place is not on a busy gb. And it’s not that there is no purpose for no hands riding, there is, but that purpose is not to stroke your ego. Yup, no hands riding was invented for flying the double eagle – or this, which according to a friend is the British equivalent.



That’s not exactly true. Actually he said it means “shove that up your arse and smoke it you bunch of wheel-sucking bastards.” But you get the idea.

Sorry, I just wanted to put that picture on my blog.

No hands guy reminds me of high school football guy. The guy that thinks he is great at everything because, you know, he played high school football?

Anyhow, I saw no hands guy texting on the gb. Never seen texting and riding before. At least he had a reason to ride no hands other than to stroke his ego. Nonetheless, if you are blasting out a text while operating a moving vehicle you may be an asshat.

Would it be wrong of me to accidentally brush no hands guys handlebars while going past?