A weekend not wasted

On Saturday I hopped on my bike, rode for a less than excruciating twelve minutes, and arrived at the cyclocross race in Veterans Park without even breaking a sweat. The first order of business was to search for my people (they're not quite hip enough to be peeps).

Hank the junior phenom, Jon Benoit, and Will "I can pull a wheel outta my ass" Bolt discuss the finer points of owning a boutique, appointment-only bike shop.

I got there to the venue in time to bust out one lap on my not ready for prime time fixed/brakeless cross bike. The course was a blast (the best cross course I've seen, and I've seen like five of them now), and I even had trouble negotiating on downhill off camber turn to the point that I popped out of it and shot under the course tape due to poor fixie skills.

The first race of the day was the Masters Class, and I got to see my boy Captain Morgan whoop up on his fellow old men.

He crushed the competition even though he only had just a little Captain in him.

Captain Morgan is one of those guys I just hate. He's good at endurance races and the short shit I totally suck at (but still enjoy).

Captain Morgan won the LSD prime, but did not realize that he had to wait till after the race to collect.

I got to stick around for one more race, the CX3's and the women.... ahhhh, the women.

Here Beth Frye is launching off the front in an attempt (a successful one at that) to catch and destroy most of the male CX3's that started ahead of her. She is such a little monster, and like Captain Morgan she stomps at endurance races too, and also like Captain Morgan, I hate her.

I don't understand my attraction to cross. I really suck at it... I mean reeeeaaaaallly suck at it, but I still think it's awesome. It's like an adult version of tag with strange boundaries played out on bikes. Ask me to ride hilly nilly around some urban park on a Saturday and I'd scoff at the suggestion, but set up some course tape and say go and all the sudden it's a great idea.

I want a cross bike, specifically I want a MOOTS Psychlo X, but with horizontal drops because I'm all hard core like that. I would never be able to do a bunch of cross races though, as this time of year I am making up for all the traveling I did over the summer and spending time close to home. For example fifteen minutes before the SS Class started I left and headed home to get in the car, pick up my mom, and head to an adoption expo to watch The Pie spread knowledge on those who would seek it. Obviously being there to support her while she does some good in the world and makes a difference in people's lives has to be a priority... at least in the off season.

I consoled myself Saturday night with a loaf of Trader Joe's Beer Bread made with a .67¢ can of Simple Times Lager (tastes like shit, but makes a decent loaf of bread).

Sunday I headed to the Lowe's Motor Speedway for The Big Stampede swap meet. It's getting harder and harder to find shit that I need there, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I have fewer needs rather than a diminishing selection. I didn't find the $700 cross/road bike of my dreams or the elusive cheap mountain tandem I've been looking for over the past decade. I did find these:

They were EXACTLY what I was looking for. I almost paid retail for these things at REI a month or so ago, but I decided to hold out for the swap meet. There was ONE PAIR in MY SIZE... fate, kismet, whatever you wanna call it. The cycling gods were looking out for me. Why would I buy a pair of semi-running/semi-riding shoes? Work. These past few years I've just worn an old nasty pair of shoes that were on their last legs when the temperatures got too cold for sandals. Walking around uptown Charlotte on a pair of hard soled shoes gets old, and when it's super cold you can feel the shock all the way up your spine with every heel strike. I'm old and fragile, and my comfort has to take a priority sometimes, and when comfort comes at a steep discount I'm in.

I purchased some other less than fun crap and went home satiated, but not thrilled. I hardly consumed at a rate that would keep America safe from terrorism (under GW's plan). The weekend was full, and sadly, over.

Next weekend... the big Hush Hush ride. I'm actually nervous??? Maybe.

Heaving help me

This weekend will see some bike related activity, but no actual bike riding worth mentioning. I'm gonna do my best to get out and see some cross action on Saturday, if just for the fact that it's a fifteen minute bike ride from my house. Although some AM beers would be nice I do have to attend an adoption expo where The Pie will be speaking later in the day, so morning beers will need to be kept to a minimum. On Sunday I've prioritized the annual swap meet; The Big Stampede. I missed it last year due to a funeral in Ohio, so this year I'm coming back with a vengeance... well, a reserved vengeance due to my work slow down, but a vengeance all the same. I've got a shopping list ready to go, and I'll still have my eye out for that $700 SRAM Force equipped road bike... ummm... yeah.

I've asked Mike Piazza (gear coordinator) to do a quick inventory around the bike room just to make sure we got all our bases covered.

"I think we got plenty of chains, but if we see a case or two of PC-1's we should probably jump on them."

In other (not necessarily) news...

Pete-unh has taken an interest in improving my IT department by suggesting that folks donate money to the Team Dicky Facility Upgrade Fund. I'm not sure what inspired him to do this exactly, but his efforts are appreciated somewhat like I appreciate a free cookie, but not the kind of free cookie that someone gives me, but more like the cookie with one bite taken out of it that I might find in the garbage can on top of all the other garbage and above the rim (Constanza rules in play). Like the unwanted cookie liberated from a garbage can I'm not sure I want the help, I know I don't need it, but I'll probably take advantage of the opportunity if it's there. Even if I upgraded my computer related hardware I can assure you that the quality of my posts would NOT improve one iota even with the purchase of a MAC or a shiny new desk made of particle board held together with plastic hardware. I've got the kind of problems you can't just throw money at to make them go away. For all his supposed enthusiasm you will have to look really close at his blog to even find out about his efforts to help me. Look at it... over there in his right hand sidebar... under the heading Propaganda... Team Dicky Fund. That's it. Hardly an overwhelming effort, but it's the thought (or lack thereof) that counts. Heck, I'm still waiting for that shiny new Nummers frame for winning (I have to assume I won) that popularity contest that ended last month, but maybe he is waiting for the donations to pour in so he can save money on shipping and box up my frame, hoodie, and jersey with a big novelty check. I really like those big checks, don't you know.

So anyways, go ahead and click this...

if you wanna see me writing my blog like this (just a dramatic representation of what could be):

Good thing I already have the MR T poster. That will save at least $4.50 of your hard earned money.

Pete-unh is encouraging you to spread the word... that's up to you. I can't say I would actually think there will be enough money raised for a MAC or anything similar, but I was thinking about buying a netbook for remote blogging from exotic race locations next year. You know, those periods when the blog goes dormant for a week at a time and rumors of my disappearance start popping up all over the web.

One week till the big Hush Hush ride. Are you ready?

It's a sign...

After moving Mike Piazza's horse farm to the backyard I realized I had a lot of free space on my work bench. That led me to scoot some things over, which led to some organization, which in turn led to a total and entirely inevitable cleaning of my bike room. Over on my table (which currently has a bottle feeding kitten with a heating blanket on it) next to my work stand my stack of number plates from 2009 laid in a heap, under some small ziplock bags of various nuts and bolts. I always wait till the end of the season to pin my numbers to the wall, and I guess I might as well admit that 2009 is officially over. It's a bit of a cathartic moment when I put the numbers in chronological order and mount them to the wall to remind me that another year has passed, and yet I still find that I have some internal drive left to make next year better than the last.

Most of the numbers on my wall have some sort of significance. I don't just save every XC and cross number plate, since I doubt that I'll ever have a life changing moment over the course of 30-90 minutes. Here's a random sample of a few that happen to be next to each other for no apparent reason.

On the far left is my number from my first ORAMM back in 2004 (which I won the SS class on my Spicer with a 5" fork). It was my first endurance race on a single speed, and the experience I had allowed me to think I might be able to finish LaRuta on a single speed (which I did four months later). The next is from the 1996 NORBA National in Traverse City, MI. I raced in the sport class back when the classes were huge at these kind of things, and an annual license only ran the average sport class racer $35. It was my first NORBA National, and I'm pretty sure that's when I figured out that all those demi-gods that filled the glossy pages of Mountain Bike Action were just humans... very strong humans, but humans just like me (except very strong). The third one is from the Long Cane Massacre (1999??), which wasn't even a race at all. It was a two day 100 mile ride down in McCormick, SC that included a poker run, camping, pasta, pancakes, and fun. The best part of the whole weekend was the breakdown of Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever's Volvo on the way down to McCormick at 11:30 at night. We packed up all our shit and rode fifty very eventful miles through the wee hours of the morning to get to the event. There's a lot of shit that went down that weekend (a very long story Eric wishes I would tell in great detail), but Eric will agree that the events that transpired definitely tweaked our perceptions of the possible possibilities we might have previously deemed impossible. And lastly, the number on the far right is from my first 12 hour race, The Night Train (2000). It was really the first "some number of hours of something" that started my obsession with that format of racing, and an experience I'll never forget.

Ahhhhh... a walk down memory lane. Nothing like it to stir up a little inspiration during the off "season".

BTW:

There's a cross race in Charlotte this weekend, and nobody told me?

BIKE RACE

I have commitments that day, but perhaps I'll get out for some cowbell ringing in the AM. Have fun bastards.

More excitement here at Bad Idea Racing headquarters

Last week while discussing (at great length, mind you) the topic of my wrists and how I remedied my somewhat painful situation I flippantly threw out a comment regarding the need for a new computer monitor. Mike Piazza actually reads my blog (although he waits for the weekends to read it in five day chunks), and decided he'd help me get rid of the beast that I purchased at Value Village for $13 when my last hunk of shit monitor died.

So Mike Piazza dug through the box of used shit and struck a deal with the proprietor of Phoenix Crank Polishing and Helmet Buffing; one pair of Salsa Carbon 17 degree sweep bars for one slightly used Flatron 2000 monitor. While I was thrilled to have a new (to me) monitor I was disappointed that there was very little room for modifications (stickers), and that a monitor without flames or skulls was worse than having no monitor at all. We hemmed and hawed over the options of old monitor (with flames and skulls), new monitor (with no flames or skulls), and no monitor (with no flames, skulls, or screen to see what I'm doing), and we came up with a happy compromise.

It would seem as if everybody is happy with this option. Camelbak bite valve for a head guy has more room to ride around, the bodiless alligator can get outta his wreckless path as he wizzes by without a care in the world (like a CO2 tossing superstar), and the Stan's/Slime alien booger now has a permanent place of residence.

On the backside of the monitor there is now a shit ton of spare room on my work bench. I was pretty excited about that added bonus as I could always use more room on my bench to spread out my tools thus making them harder to find. We put in the monitor on Saturday night, and by Sunday morning I discovered what Mike Piazza had been planning all along.

A horse farm.

Mike Piazza had always been dropping hints, but I told him there just wasn't enough room for a horse farm in the house. Being a stubborn man with great facial hair he decided to prove me wrong when he got the chance. I let him keep them for a few days, but when the miniature horse shit started piling up and he refused to clean up after them the horses had to go.

Other exciting news on the IT front here at Bad Idea Racing, Mike Piazza (head IT guy) and I decided to go ahead and renew the URL TEAMDICKY.COM for another year. I didn't buy it originally a year ago, but someone close and very dear to me thought it would make a great Christmas present back when I was debating a new format for the blog. Now I find myself trapped in what is sure to be an endless cycle (not to be confused with an Endless Bicycle). If I fail to renew the URL then someone else could buy it and do as they please with it, and that just won't do. Someone could buy TEAMDICKY.COM and turn into a porn site or even worse... a bad porn site. I did realize a certain benefit associated with keeping the URL to myself. Since I own TEAMDICKY.COM (which is seven letters shorter than teamdicky.blogspot.com) the cost on my custom jerseys should go down. Sure, if I was doing subliminated jerseys again it wouldn't make a difference, but this time I'm just gonna pick up some cheap jerseys at the swap meet, buy some iron-on felt letters at Micheal's Craft Store, and do them myself. Should turn out pretty cool, right?

Remember, I'm always looking out for you.

New Sponsor News: Inflated Egos on the Horizon

We at Bad Idea Racing (Mike Piazza and myself) are pleased as punch to announce a new Dick Supporter to the family, Genuine Innovations. To say that we (all right, me) are excited about this would be an understatement. I've been carrying Genuine Innovations products ever since I started mountain bike "racing" back in 1992, and it looks like I'll now be carrying them in some sort of officially recognized and very endorsing manner.

Mike Piazza says we have enough CO2 to inflate 400 abnormally fast babies.

Here's the first dilemma I'll have to deal with being a Genuine Innovations sponsored athlete. Do I carry the Big Air or the Niner cartridge? The Big Air is a whole mess lighter than the Niner, but the contents (in this case, propane) are under lower pressure than the Niner (which has CO2 in it). That means that while both of them should get two flats rolling again one will theoretically "pack more punch" as I'm told. The folks at Genuine Innovations have provided me with a few extras so I can "play with them at home", so look for a test in the near future. Now don't go thinking I'm gonna piss them away in the name of science. I've gotta swap last years "racing" tires over to my "training" wheels, so when I get around to it I'm gonna do a very unscientific field test to see which one I prefer.

One major advantage of the Big Air is that with a little work one can make it look like a sample size can of shaving cream.

Don't ask me why one might do that, but I'm just saying one could do that.

The other dilemma I face is which inflator to carry.

The one on Mike Piazza's right (your left) is the Air Chuck SL and the other one is the Microflate Nano. The SL is an all metal Nickel-plated alloy design that uses Push-to-Inflate technology and happens to be their biggest seller (probably because it looks cooler what with it's nifty green anodizing and Transformer good looks). The Nano is their most economical mini-co2 inflator that uses Twist-to-Inflate technology, and is the only inflator that fits inside disc & aero wheels (which will come in handy when I get my Industry Nine solid pink aluminum disc wheels in 2010). These inflators will definitely have to go head to head in my very unscientific test thus creating so many variables that any data procured from said tests will probably be totally useless, but hopefully still entertaining.

This is an item I specially requested, the Tire Repair and Inflation Wallet:

Mike Pizza was blinded by the flash, but he is doing much better now.

Why did I want this product that really seems to be marketed towards the new bike commuter more so than a veteran (and very talented) endurance racer?

Well I could carry my tools in my Backcountry Research Toolie roll, but then I end up carrying things I don't need, like a pipe cutter and a putty knife.

No, the Toolie Roll is great for taking tools on the road, but it is very cumbersome feeling in a jersey pocket, what with the monkey wrench and all. I tend to just throw my "race" tools in an old sunglass sock (that could also be used as a penis sock if your google search for such an item comes up dry).

At the top of the picture is the old sunglass sock that I used to carry my tools in. It would always end up soaking wet and my tools were always bulging through the thin cloth and poking me in the back. If you're like me you don't want bulging tools poking you from behind, so I needed a solution (other than staying out of Scorpios). The tool wallet is nice and flat, padded on the inside, and fits precisely in my jersey pocket. This product has only been field tested for two hours, but so far so good.

So next year when I flat I'll be pulling out a Genuine Innovations product to save me, which was no different than in years past, but next year I'll do it with a big smile just in case there's a camera around. Don't worry, I'm not gonna get a big ego and start tossing my empties in the ditch like some people (especially when the camera's on)...

Outlaw Urban Cyclocross Race #1

Although I woke up Sunday feeling sicker than I had on Saturday I decided to go through with my plan to attend the Outlaw Urban Cyclocross Race #1. It just seemed like an event of this unprecedented nature should not be missed due to the physical manifestations of viral intruders in my system. This race was inspired by the likes of the Bilenky Junkyard Cross Race and the 24 MOTAB... the kinda race where you're more likely to get tetanus or giardia than you are a purse and a group of guys in skinsuits. I suited up in what felt like appropriate garb, but being 40 years old and not connected to anything close to "the scene" I made the mistake of not showing up in jeans or jorts. Only seven of us lined up (six in proper colored denim and me) for the first race, and there were a few spectators on hand (and a group of skateboarding 13 year olds to mock our efforts). There were originally going to be two classes (people on proper bikes and people on nonsense bikes), but when Mike tried to gap from one foundation to another on his polo/track bike (fixed, slicks/one brake, and 5" wide bars) and busted his ass there was no point in having a class for silly bikes. We ended up with one class filled with five mountain bikes, one SS cross bike, and my stupid fixed/brakeless "cross bike".

At 3:07pm the race started up the road and then dove left towards towards the old foundations. It was a seven stair run up to the top of the first foundation, and then a 90 degree turn on the slick surface to the drop down gap to the second foundation.

At the top of the stairs there was a nice big piece of linoleum to slide around on as you tried to remount your steed.

Then the turn to the gap drop where I lost time being one of three folks who did not drop it (I think)...

but seriously, this looked like death on a stick for a guy who can't level his pedals pre-flight:

My game has no shame.

Then there was a swooping left turn to a ramp down to the parking lot....

to a paved section to a gravely 180 degree turn that lead us to the third foundation which dropped to the fourth.

This is Cole who was killing the gap drop on his drop bar equipped bike of a cyclocrossian nature. He also slid out around the midpoint of the race (I think), and broke his finger. Yes, he was dropping off everything, and he ended up wrecking on the smooth as glass/slick as shit flat surface of foundation #1.

You've got two weeks to heal Cole.

The yutes on skateboards watched and laughed at the old man who would not launch off the smaller drop. I wanted to hand them my bike and say "You do it", but I was pretty sure they all would.

My lack of courage cost me a lot of time. While I was carefully dismounting and Peter Panning my way across the crevasse the other riders would fly past me in the air.

Meh.

Once we got off the last foundation we headed for the "woods" section. There were huge puddles of rancid hobo pee and quality industrial run off...

and a STEEP incline on the exit (not steeper than it looks, but actually as steep as it looks).

So how did the race go? One lap one I was second to last. I moved into third from last (which I guess is the same as 5th), but then I noticed that last place had flatted and was running the course without his bike. He eventually gave up and I was back in second from last of all the remaining riders. Cole dropped out when he broke his finger, so while I was still second from last I was now in fourth. I was lapped by eventual winner Zach twice, second place Kurt lapped me once, and Geoffrey nearly lapped me, but my efforts were too strong that day for him (to lap me). Everybody else dropped out, but the places behind me were awarded on merit... fifth to Casteen who dropped with two to go, sixth to Cole for breaking his finger, and seventh to Ironman for running two laps without a bike. I guess Mike gets eighth for hurting himself before the race even started.

During the race I was wishing I woulda brought the Meatplow which woulda made it slighty easier on me, but once I got home I as glad I left it behind.

That course was nasty, well as nasty as a cross race should be.

Every time I hit the steep mud hill I just gunned it through the mud at the base and slammed into it like I was running into a wall. It felt as if the front wheel (built by the race promoter himself) was going to fold over, but the bike held up fine. I did manage to auger a pedal into the severe angle at the top of the nasty pitch, and had to deal with a fairly clogged (but still somehow functioning) SPD.

Fun. Good, unclean, American/Belgian waffle fun. I'm hoping for another dose in two weeks.

All action photos courtesy of Kevin Thompson.

Urban outlaw bjound?

This weekend I intend to accomplish the shit outta some things. All the time I spend at work sans interweb has me backed up in a few areas. I want to make some headway as far as the 2010 Bad Idea Racing jerseys go. The problem for me is that I wanna see the whole project laid out in my mind before I go committing to the execution, as opposed to going in balls out without a plan and hoping that it all works out. That may work for racing, but when I'm involving others in my life I don't wanna let people down.

The other project would be "designing" a new messenger bag. I use the term "designing" pretty loosely since I'm just gonna come up with some ideas as to how to make a better messenger bag and then forward them to Tamas at Bagaboo. I already have a Workhorse bag, but the flap is showing some unusual wear, and I think I might wanna replace it before the wet winter we're expecting. Tamas has upgraded his outter material to 1000 Denier Cordura and his main strap is now seatbelt webbing to prevent fraying. Tamas is usually okay with adding a few features (like my water bottle holder), but this go around I've got a lot of ideas as to how I want this bag to work. If the price is right I'm in, but for what I want it might just get a little silly. We'll see. If you want a bag that will make you look really cool on your hipster bike I highly recommend the Bagaboo stuff, and if you want fancy custom bag you should definitely check out just what he can do with cordura, thread, and some patience.

My current bag, but in it's better days.

This weekend I'm also gonna try to sneak out on a short mountain bike ride on Saturday, and then maybe squeeze in a outlaw urban cyclocross race on Sunday. I worked pretty hard last night getting my cross bike together.

Yeah, that's my cross bike... or errrrr... the closest thing I got. It does have cross tires, and the Misfit FU2 bars are kinda swoopy, so why not call it a cross bike? Other tidbits include a 36X19 fixed gear on a Phil Wood hub (built by Unlucky Drew), an old, rebuilt (by the outlaw cross race promoter) Bontrager OEM front wheel (taco'ed while on loan to Big Worm), eBay fork (powder coated pink while in the Big Worm's possession), a headset that is half Race Face and half prototype Cane Creek Aer Headset, and some other sundrious stuff I had laying around.

But...

See that stack of shit behind the beautiful cross bike? Those are boxes left over my moving my mom that I have yet to deal with yet. There are even more boxes at her place that are still unpacked. So I got that going against me, and I still need to spend quality time with the family that doesn't include unpacking boxes, grocery shopping, leaf raking, bike maintenance, or watching mixed martial arts on VSTV. My ability to attend the outlaw urban cross race is hanging in the balance, so you might just have to go without me (or come over and help me wade through this world of piled high shit).

Speaking of races and such I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that registration is open for SSUSA/SSAZ. Only the first 100 people get in, so register soon and often. Spend a Febraury weekend in Arizona and maybe you'll get to see Dejay act like a grown man while you're there (not likely).