East bound and slightly up

Yesterday morning while I was trying to bust out my Jill Homer/Raisin Smuggler post the latest foster puppy started yipping and yapping. He is a tiny little rat terrier. Our initial guesses as to why they call them "rat" terriers were off just a bit. It is not because they look like rats, it's because they were bred to kill rats.

Bred to kill, not to care.

Anyways, when he started making his pathetic puppy noises The Pie decided to get up and take care of him. After addressing his needs she then brought him into the bike room/office to play on the hard wood floors. Normally I am used to working in privacy, so imagine how difficult it was to explain to The Pie that the reason I've been staring at pictures of nipples for twenty minutes straight was research related and very important. For just a short while yesterday I felt a little like Pete Townsend.

So anyways.....

This Sunday's Heartbreaker Super D was canceled yet again due to conditions. The mountains still have snow on the ground, and it just wouldn't be the way Jut intended it to be if we were all sliding down the mountain just trying to stay upright. Kudos on the second cancellation Jut.

Which means I have a free weekend, which means that I had to find something to do, which means I asked around, which means I was hoping that someone would save me from another weekend of not doing something different. Luckily Scott Hodge (Certified USCF racing mechanic) of Addictive Cycles is going to be driving right past Charlotte this evening on his way to NAHBS, so I'm gonna stand on the side of the Interstate 77 with my thumb out. I have no real purpose in being there other than looking at shiny bikes and seeing some people. The folks from MOOTS will be on hand (I still like them AND their bikes), and I've been practicing my high fives with the family to prepare myself for my first meeting with the twins of Twin Six (Brent and Ryan). The people of Dirt Rag will be there, so perhaps I'll stand around their booth and act like I'm part of the staff. I'm also going to have to ask about the benefits of having my own department, which so far seems to be in name only. Other than that I plan on taking a lot of blurry, washed out photos of some shit you'll see all over the internet even if I don't bring my camera, and I believe that beer is on the menu for the weekend. Now I just need to look under my bed and dig out my Dokken collection since Hodge mentioned that he has a tape deck in his car with auto reverse..... sweet.



No... suh-weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

FYI: I have added this to the schedule:

Yes, the New Belgium Brewing Urban Assault Ride is coming to Charlotte this summer. All of you hipster haters and hipster fixsters can bring your game to the uptown and show us what you got. I've already asked Big Worm to be my partner in crime, so we'll be fielding a team that has over 25 years of experience in the skreets of the QC. By the way, it's worth mentioning that the UAR is not your typical blue barrel festival event. They do their best to limit the environmental damage that would normally be associated with an event like this. I am stoked to be doing this race, and now all I have to do is convince Big Worm that we need to put away our silly fixed gears and go all out aboard our ancient eight speed road bikes.

Let's see if this race gets snowed out.

One last reminder:

Hey there, all you middle men
Throw away your fancy clothes
And while you're out there sittin' on a fence
So get off your ass and come down here

This is the last weekend to register for the Trans-Sylvania Epic Stage Race before the price increases by $100. Get your ass moving and register for this race you know you want to do. Make sure to contact me first though and get a coupon code worth another $50 off. I'll be checking my emails off and on over the weekend, so hit me at teamdicky at hotmail dot com... capiche?? Just so you know there is now more info up on the course with maps, profiles, and what not to wet your whistle.

Heroine fallen

While perusing the WWW I came across the following article which disturbed me, not so much due to the content, but because it involved someone I e-know and e-love.

From the Juneau Daily Times and Mosquito Report:

It's a sad day when an athlete has to resort to a life of crime to make ends meet, and it seems like a growing trend in the mountain bike community. Recently Missy Giove plead guilty to marijuana trafficking in Albany, NY, and now our own local mountain bike heroine Jill Homer is finding herself in a similar situation. Local officials had their suspicions confirmed recently when Jill accidentally posted a photo of herself in the act of breaking an obscure Alaskan and possibly international law. Although no one has been arrested in the last decade for this particular offense a warrant has been put out for Jill's arrest. The crime?? Raisin smuggling.

Local officials are not sure if Jill's intentions were to cross the Juneau County line or perhaps she was planning on going over the border to Canada making this a possible federal offense with international ramifications. Raisins are illegal in Canada as dried fruit is considered contraband in all ten Canadian Provinces and two of the three Canadian territories (anything goes on Prince Edward Island). Jill's attorney is claiming that Jill was not smuggling raisins, but was in fact trying out various ways to carry Gummy Bears while exercising outdoors.

Jill will more than likely be released and sentenced with a light probation during which time she will be forced to wear the an anti raisin smuggling suit to make sure she doesn't fall back into her old raisin smuggling ways.



Jill,

Come back to the sport when you're ready. All is forgiven.

E-Love,
Your fans


While researching this post I spent way too much time looking at google images for "sports bra nipple". This curbed my ability to get too involved with the writing aspect since looking at nipples is quite addictive. I stopped looking when I saw this:


This message was Jill approved. The above photo was not.

Pre "season" experimenting: Part Two

First off I would like to mention something that happened at my physical last week. Since I was seeing a new doctor for the first time we had to go through the initial "get to know me" Q&A session before we could move onto the testicle palpation and digital sodomy part of the program. I was being asked the typical questions regarding lifestyle choices; drugs, alcohol, diet, and sex. The doctor asked me a question that threw me off balance, and I had to ask her to repeat herself.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Pardon?" she replied.

"What did you just ask me?" I asked in an attempt to clarify before I offered up an answer.

"Are you currently sexually active?" she asked again.

"Oh, I thought you asked me if I was chronically sexually active to which I wasn't entirely sure how to answer" I said as I realized that my new doctor probably thinks I'm quite a simpleton.

Does this look like a guy who's "chronically sexually active"?

And now onto the meat of the matter...

I had to give the Ergon GX 1 Leichtbau grips another chance...

well at least one of them.

Back when I gave the Ergon grips a whirl in the early winter months (Nov/Dec) of 2008 I was already having issues with my wrists and even some issues with pain in the back of my hands. These issues went deeper than grip choice, and without addressing those issues the grips did nothing for me in regards to solving my problems. I finally got rid of the pain with other remedies which I will not re-hash here as I already did it here, but suffice it to say other than some occasional discomfort I'm a pretty happy semi-young man.

Since I still had the grips I had to wonder if I wasn't missing out on something. So many other endurance riders swear by these things, and not just the ones that are sponsored by Ergon. The idea of greater surface contact makes so much sense I just can't ignore it anymore. I figured the only sure way to give these grips a fair head to head comparison was to run just one Ergon grip VS my current grip du jour.

I've only been on one ride so far, and that was @ 19 or so miles at Sherman Branch. Let's just say that the grip is still on there, and I feel that there might be something to it. It did not save me from going over the bars and landing on seven different parts of my body, but then again neither did my standard grip, so as far as overall safety testing goes they both get a D-.

And one last thing...

This bit of smack talk showed up in my mail box yesterday:

Subject: TransDicky
From: Mike.Cushionbury@Rodale.com
To: teamdicky@hotmail.com

I noted from your little blog that you and all your single-speeding shenanigans will be attending the Transylvania Epic Stage Race. Bring your A-game when you come to my town but don’t get that filthy mustache anywhere near me.

This sort of aggression will not stand, man. I replied:

My filthy mustache and I (notice I give my mustache first billing not to be grammatically correct but to emphasize how truly awesome it is) will be bringing so much game I'll be shitting Uno cards and pissing Yahtzee dice...

So register for the Tran-Sylvania Epic Stage Race* so you can watch me kick Mike's pasty white PA ass all over his hometown woods first hand.

Word on the Facebook street is that Harlan Price will be single speeding the Trans-Sylvania Epic. I wonder if maybe he got fat over the winter. I hope so. He certainly looks fat and slow. Well maybe not, but his mustache certainly is weak.

* Register soon since the entry fee goes up $100 on Monday, and contact me ASAP at teamdicky at hotmail dot com to save another $50.

Pre "season" experimenting

So I did a little testing this weekend. I'm running out of time to play with shit before the "season" gets here, and there are definitely some things that I wanted to mess with on the Meatplow before I mount a number plate to my bars.

I mentioned previously that the small One9 frame now has a water bottle mount under the down tube. In previous years the small frame had only one mount on top of the down tube, and that's why I chose to ride a medium frame back in 2008 (while I had one). I'm not sure when Niner added the second mount (they don't do model years per se), but I'm glad they realized that little people get thirsty too. It's good to know they no longer side with Randy Newman.

So here's what I had to work with:

There's that mount... right where I would want it. Right next to the spinning chainring of death and in the direct line of fire from the shit throwing front wheel.

This is what I call "living on the down low", but after doing some research I think I'm gonna have to find another name for it.

So it's not really that bad after all. I can reach the bottle from the seated position, and I can see if I've lost it without looking behind me (as I would if I had a seatpost mounted bottle as seen here on Lynda's bike... not not the one on the top tube or the one on the bottom of the down tube or the one between her spokes on her front wheel).

I know some folks are stoked about the new King top cap cage mount....

I myself can't do this. No matter how practical and totally useful it is I just can't stick a water bottle there, on the front of my bike, in plain sight. It's like putting a third boob on a woman's forehead. Sure it would come in handy, but it's just not where I'm accustomed to seeing it, and that's gonna throw my game off a little.

So I put my cage where Niner intended, a second boob slightly lower and just offset from where I would normally have it.

I gave the whole thing a whirl on my 29 mile ride at Uwharrie last Saturday. We went down a real kidney puncher of a downhill twice, and the bottle refused to become a projectile as I expected it would have being in such a precarious position. I went ahead and drank from the conveniently mounted bottle to start with and then attempted a rolling swap to the full bottle. On my first attempt the cage was reluctant to give up it's occupant, so I had to pull pretty hard to get it to release it's Kung Fu grip on my drinking vessel. I pulled so hard that when the bottle was released from the Cobra Clutch I shoved the bottle into the front tire, and the bottle was snatched from my hands and sent tumbling down the trail in one smooth movement. This was a disappointment. I stopped, picked up the bottle, replaced it, and tried again... this time with more success. It takes some practice and a little Indiana Jones handling skills to make the swap smoothly.

Vimeo Tribute: Indiana Jones from Blake Whitman on Vimeo.

So after all that messing around I've decided I'm just gonna run one bottle when I race (knowing that I could run two if I wanted to) just like I did back in the day on the original Meatplow before I bought the Fanny Pack of Doom. It worked then, and it will work now... or not.

Speaking of races....

PMBAR is selling out a record pace. If you are not in now but plan to enter eventually you best shit or get off the pot. There will be no last minute inclusion of Floyd Landis, Lance Armstrong, or Johnathon LaRoy no matter how much celebrity you have to throw around. Thad and I will be back this year, so go ahead and enjoy the race for second place with the rest of the gang.

And if you want a piece of this:

Start thinking 2011 since all 300 spots are sold out this year. You might want to contact the promoter to see if someone is selling their spot, but I'm not making any promises. I told you this thing would get big. Hands down the best six/twelve hour course I've ever ridden.

And just because someone looked so hard to find this for me when I needed it most, I give you Techno Viking.

Mustache Ride

Just ten days ago I was riding home while another "snow event" was shaping up. What was originally looking like a three day weekend mountain bike extravaganza was slowly turning into a shit storm right before my eyes. When I left the uptown there was only a random flake or two in the air, but by the time I got home 20+ minutes later I was liberally dusted.

A few hours later the roads were covered, my yard buried, and my dreams beyond crushed. I hadn't really ridden my mountain bike on a "trail" since January 18th, and all my week long dreaming of flying through the woods would remain just a dream. I know some of you folks from up north might say "big deal", but there's a reason I live in Charlotte, and it has nothing to do with my affinity for ozone warning days or my desire to be an SUV driving soccer mom.

Fast forward to this past Friday. Most of the trails in Charlotte were looking like they'd be open by Saturday morning. I had planned a ride with someone I haven't had a chance to ride with in a long while (Jerry) in a place I haven't ridden at in a long time (the Uwharrie Mountains) on a "Mustache Only" ride (we have standards to uphold). As I sat there on the couch watching a movie late Friday night I had a scary thought go through my mind. It had been such a long time since I had properly ridden my mountain bike. Was I still going to enjoy the experience? Any chance I had lost that loving feeling? This was uncharted territory since I have never been off the mountain bike for such a long time in the last fifteen years. I guess I would find out one way or another.

The pieces of the puzzle started coming together Saturday morning as I prepared my gear for the ride. A certain kinda routine that I have practiced countless times stirred that familiar feeling somewhere in the familiar feeling lobe of my brain. On the drive over some typical pre-ride music set me up in a great mood to search for that lost loving feeling. Once Jerry and I got to Uwharrie I was glad he was there with me for the ride. When I told him I thought I might have lost "that loving feeling" he took a look around and said "I think I see it over there".

I looked over there, but through the trees I could hardly see the mountains beyond.

I then realized Jerry was being facetious, and I decided "that loving feeling" had never left me for a moment. I was going to be OK.

Jerry dragged me all over the woods on his usual 29 mile route, and I must say it's the best ride I've ever been on in the Uwharrie. For you F.O.K. type folks (Fans of Kerkovianisms) here's your money shot from Jerry's computermathing:

On Sunday I stole another chance to sneak out to a familiar trail to give the Meatplow it's first full speed test. I pushed the bike as hard as I could all over Sherman Branch, and it was fast, fast, fast. I really like this bike, and I can't wait to get the chance to race on it. I did have one "incident" when I rolled over the "Engine Block" rock pile without thinking it over first. A rock was slightly misplaced, and I took a trip over the bars on my way down the backside. I landed pretty hard on my balsa wood rib cage, but luckily there's only some bruising. I'm not feeling any sharp pains indicative of pointy, sharp bone pieces , but sleeping was still a bit rough last night. I guess you'll have that. Sic vita est.

I got to ride my mountain bike. Hooray. I'm very happy now, and today's rain will not seem like the end of the world as I know it.

Honest, I got a note from my doctor

I got the word yesterday that the doctor I have my March 14th physical appointment with a year ago up and quit her doctoring duties. When I called to reschedule they said "How about tomorrow?" Well, no better time than now I suppose, so I'm off to get a physical today.

Since the rules state no food or happiness after midnight last night I slept in today in order to curb my hunger till as late as possible. This means no early morning Run Club Part Duh to try to squeeze in before work and no time for thought or writing about said thought, so I give unto you this shitty excuse for a post. At least I'll know in a few days or so if my anemic ways are far behind me. That would be outstanding.

Did you hear me?

I said OUTSTANDING!!!

By the way, the sun will shine long enough to get in a bike ride this weekend. This will be my SECOND ride on dirt with the new improved Meatplow (not including sliding around in the short track mud), so I'm kinda stoked about that.

The following is a re-post from the old blog circa 2008 about my feelings regarding physicals:

A complete physical is kinda like every less than desirable party experience I ever had in college packed into less than an hour.

I get naked, usually pretty early on, and more than likely I’m the only person doing it.
I pee in a cup when I’m left unattended.
Someone gets to third base, but it’s not me.
I spend a half hour with a strange woman, but I end up having to pay $100 for the experience.
There are needles, uncomfortable conversations, and I’ll end up losing a little blood before it’s all over.
Someone’s gonna try to stick their fingers in my butt.
A few days later I’ll find out if I have chlamydia or not.

Don't forget, you have less than ten days to enter the Transylvania Stage Epic Stage Race before the rates go up $100 and the "I know Team Dicky" $50 discount expires. Save yourself $150 today or throw your hard earned cash out the window. Contact me soon (teamdicky at hotmail dot com) or else I will mock you in May for paying too much or missing the boat altogether.

See you Monday.

Last week I got something kinda special in the mail

Issue #147 of Dirt Rag showed up in my mail box last week, but I've been a busy boy so I haven't mentioned it yet. My second article is in those pages which means I have written for 1.36054421% of all the issues of Dirt Rag ever published. This is approximately 1.36054421% more issues than I ever planned on contributing to when I first started riding a mountain bike back in 1990, but 27% fewer issues than I would have liked to contribute to since I decided to jump start a political career by writing for a major mountain bike publication. I am apparently not hiding my political ambitions very well since I was cloaking my desire to raise gasoline prices to $10 a gallon (once I take office) with an article on underground cycling events, but some astute reader caught me and exposed my hidden agenda on the Dirt Rag Feedback Forum. Damn. I was planning to push my healthcare reform in an article about the joys of ceramic bearings in the next issue, but I'm afraid the loyal Dirt Rag readers are already onto my hidden agendas.

The Pie perused my copy of issue #147 making it the third Dirt Rag she has actually looked at in fifteen or so years. She has a very sharp eye for detail, and she pointed out that in the table of contents I actually have a "department". I have not looked into what that means, but I'm gonna have to send Karen Brooks an email and see if I can get a water cooler or maybe even some assistants that can stand around the water cooler and talk about what an awesome department we have. That would be awesomely awesome.

"Isn't our department awesome? Isn't it time for our awesome break? I can't wait for awesome casual Friday. I've got an awesome pair of acid washed jeans I'm gonna break out."

Dirt Rag has decided to go ahead and let my most recent stream of thought be available online, although I would highly suggest that you should buy the print copy since:

I will only be signing REAL copies of Dirt Rag. I will not autograph print-outs from the website.

Buying the magazine will help keep it in business so I can continue to write for it.

You get a photo of me taken by Big Worm that is suitable for framing purposes.

Buying the magazine allows you to be marketed by Dirt Rag's advertisers which means that you WILL buy their products thus encouraging their advertisers to continue buying ad space thusly keeping Dirt Rag in business thusafter.

It was already a magazine worth buying before I wrote for it, but now it is THE magazine to buy since they were the ones that were smart enough to choose me to run my department.

If you still refuse to pick up a copy for yourself and insist on reading it for free click here (you freeloaders) and read it and then click here to leave feedback regarding your personal feelings about my $10 a gallon gas agenda.

Speaking of The Pie....

Last night was her 40th birthday (celebrated post yoga class).

What did she get other than her own plate of cupcakes?

A brand new pair of ground score Ritz Carlton slippers I found on 4th Street earlier that day. It's a good thing my wife embraces low expectations, but then again she wouldn't be my wife if she didn't.

Season tossed like a salad

So far things have gone to shit. Hoffencross was Hoffencanceled in early February due to weather and poor trail conditions. Now this weekend's Pisgah 36 has met a similar fate. Snow on the ground (as seen two weekends ago on an exploratory mission) has not only made the trail conditions bike unfriendly it has turned the roads into road closures, and the entrance to the venue is a rutted out mess that only a true 4X4 vehicle could handle. Due to safety issues and the inability to use the whole forest as planned the race had to be postponed till a later date. This later date had to be decided based the on availability of the venue (Cove Creek Campground) and there was only one other date that wasn't already reserved in 2010... April 2-4. Not only does this interfere with my competitive egg hunt plans on Easter Sunday this date also tramples all over the Six Hours of Warrior Creek. I know some tough chick who has made the decision to grab 36 hours of glory over six hours of lap racing, but I have to say that I'm picking the latter.

The bad news for the Pisgah 36 is that the conditions will hardly be as horrible as some woulda hoped for had it been held in February. The good news is that the conditions will hardly be as horrible as some woulda fjeared, so perhaps more people will register for the race now that the February weather has been taken outta the picture. I'm kinda bummed to be missing it, especially since it will probably be slightly less horrible this year, but I'm a big fan of the Warrior Creek race, and I said I wouldn't miss it for anything after last year's event. Shit happened.

So I started looking for something else to do. The Pisgah Brew Crew had to reschedule their Heartbreaker Super D race from Valentine's Day to February 28th, so that has been officially marked as a possible.

Oh yeah, that cancellation was due to weather too... anyways, this race is on Heartbreak Ridge which happens to be one of the major downhills that is used in the most important race of the international cycling calender; ORAMM. I've had a fair amount of success there, so I think this is something I should have a go at, especially since it's mostly downhill and my fitness is definitely lacking.

I considered going to NAHBS on the same weekend as the Heartbreaker for about a minute before I realized that I haven't really ridden my bike off road in a month, and I should jump at any chance to do so. I'll just have to look at all those fancy bikes on the internet at a later date. I must say that if the Heartbreaker gets postponed again and the weather that weekend is shit I may just have to look for some floorspace in Richmond (unless someone likes to spoon).

PMBAR is still a go in May, and as far as I know it will not be canceled due to snow. I have finally selected a partner, and he was my first choice... right behind Elk and Captain Morgan. You have to understand that I owed each of them another shot at redemption following Elk and I's 2nd place at PMBAR 2008 and Captain and I's narrowly missing a shot at the big time on fixed gears at the 2008 Double Dare. Thad was third in line for redemption since we narrowly missed the podium at last year's PMBAR, so he got the nod this go around (even though we no longer wear matching blue outfits).

And in other news I have thrown my hat in the ring officially on the Breck Epic and the Trans Sylvania Epic by putting my money where my mouth is (which my mom says I shouldn't do since money is the germiest thing on the planet because most of it passes through the hands of Republicans).

That's all the pressing news of the day, so tomorrow I'll get back to shilling my soul away and propagating my self promotional agenda.

My field trip to Cane Creek with Stabby

Sorry about not posting yesterday, but I swear I made the most of my day off. Instead of going to work I planned a field trip with Stabby to Fletcher, NC to visit the Cane Creek factory, headquarters, and play room. This seemed like a better option than sitting around watching Big Worm ride back and forth to the courthouse all day in the rain while I waited for the banks to re-open on Tuesday. I was right.


Upon arriving Eric Smith ushered us directly to the head honcho's office to apparently give us a once over before they let us get near the expensive stuff. This is Peter... and his passport:

Underneath that artsy photo of Peter and his passport is a brand new old stock wooden case of stainless steel Campagnolo housing. It's worth $1,000,000 on eBay or it makes a nice six dollar end table.

There was a sweet display of instant engagement silent clutch hubs that will never see the rear of a bicycle (unless someone gives them instant engagement silent clutch bionic eyes and puts them close enough to the rear of a bicycle for them to see it with their instant engagement silent clutch bionic eyes).

And this is the real Peter (not the passport wielding paper Peter) hurrying to hide something that they mighta been trying to keep under wraps.

He says this was a mock up of a brake lever for Interbike that was used to demonstrate the new (at that time) BRS return spring, but I have another theory. Perhaps the Cane Creek marketing guy caught wind of a MONSTER cross thread on the MTBR 29'er forum and got the wrong idea, he told the engineering guy to get with it, and now you see the results of trying to stay ahead of the game without doing enough research. I could be wrong, but I rarely am.

Peter pulled this outta his bag of tricks:

This was made way back in the day in conjunction with Hayes. This is the Speed Check brake, and it was a cable actuated hydraulic beast with a metal matrix rotor. All I can say is thank God for engineers and V-brakes (actually it was pretty freaking cool and weighed 1/3 as much as it seemed like it shoulda).

This is a carbon rotor... it weighed next to nothing and apparently it stopped next to nothing.

I stuffed my pockets with whatever I could fit in them while Stabby distracted Peter with his moonwalking skills. We were escorted out to the floor when I was caught trying to stick $1,000,000 worth of NOS Campy product down my pants. Yes, we were going to see the factory that once produced the original Rock Shox RS-1 way back in the day when Herbold was the Steve Peat of the downhill world and when Ned Overend made mustaches cool (not for the sake of irony). BTW: Rumor has it that Peter has been in the bike industry so long he remembers when Ned was a rambunctious kid with a lot of potential but there were a lot of doubts as to whether or not he could ever grow a decent mustache. "Ned never backed down from a challenge" Peter said.

Out on the floor we saw Jeremy and Shane assembling Double Barrel shocks (finally, something from this decade to look at).

Jeremy (in the foreground) was putting the newly assembled shock onto a dyno machine thingy. Every shock is assembled by hand and cycled thoroughly, brought up to normal operating temps (determined by..YES!!! LASERS!!!!!), and all this info goes into a computer thing so cool I wasn't allowed to take pictures of it. The Double Barrel shock is the most adjustable shock on the market (they showed me a bunch of squiggly lines on a screen just to prove it) and Cane Creek puts a lot of pride into this bad boy. It's almost enough for me to want a squishy bike... almost. While we were in the shock assembly area I happened to see a Niner WFO test frame in a box with a Double Barrel shock mounted up, and Stabby had to snatch my credit card and cell phone outta my hand. Bastard. I so want to run over English children again.

These shelves were full of Double Barrel shocks ready to go out the door, but Stabby had the foresight to wear cargo pants. Way to go Stabby. He plans on building his own RoboCain MK2 at home with all his ill gotten goods.

I found out that it takes this much bar stock aluminum...

to make this many 110 bearing covers...

and this much curly aluminum waste product.

And that's why the Cane Creek 110 headset retails for around $140. This is my theory as I stopped listening to what the tour guide (Eric) was saying for awhile, and I had to fill in the blanks in my notebook later. Some would argue that the value of the 110 is in the details; the captured compression ring, split-lip bearing, friction minimizing face seals, premium headset alloy, scalloped Interlok spacers, or premium finish and colors... not me. I'd say the fact that it takes one metric ton of aluminum to make two headsets has to be the reason it costs so much, but since I have was not listening I could be entirely wrong. I'll have to consult Stabby's notes later.

Apparently Cane Creek is taking the 2010 Interbike Foxy Boxing tournament seriously this year, as they've stopped using this space to make track wheels to make room for a gym.

And apparently they also needed a place to store their novelty sized Christmas balls.

I also found this laying on the floor of the gym:

Eric (our tour guide.. I think he does something other than guide tours, but I couldn't figure out exactly what) told me this was just gym equipment, but I think it's a lower race from an AER headset for their monster cross project. They'll stop at nothing to hide the embarrassment aside from actually just hiding this shit out of sight so visitors don't happen upon it at every turn.

In one of the more secret rooms that I snuck into I found this piece of equipment on the floor:

The engineer told me it was a proprietary Cane Creek WDMS (Weight Distribution Measuring System... they like acronyms at Cane Creek) used to measure the weight bias of a rider on a bike in order to properly set up suspension. I told him it looked like two bathroom scales and a homemade robot squid, but he then asked me if I'd seen the big brake lever yet, and then asked Eric to escort me from the room.

After all was said and done and Stabby and I were walked through the exit door metal detectors (who woulda thought) and after cleaning out our pockets and removing our booty(pirate treasure not bodacious asses) I was presented with my belated Valentine's gift.

Just how special is this thing?

How special???

This is the Reserve World Bicycle Relief Edition Stainless Steel 110 headset... for one "Team Dicky". It has all kinds of new features on the inside that I am not at liberty to discuss. It's like a 110 that drank to much Power Thirst. I mean it's made with lightning... real lightning!! This headset will make your bike go so fast Mother Nature will be like "s-l-o-w d-o-w-n", but you'll be like "fuck you*" and kick her in the face with your energy legs....

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, there are some pretty cool things going on inside this headset, and I'm not allowed to talk about them at this juncture (wouldn't be prudent), but I can say that they aren't actually made with real lightning.

Oh yes, thanks to Eric for showing me and Stabby around and everybody at Cane Creek for putting up with our questions. I tend to be quite nosy, and unfortunately I'm never very thorough with my research since I'm too busy trying to stuff my pockets with goodies. Of course there were all kinds of tidbits that I left out (the Thudbuster testing machine was pretty cool), but these kind of posts take a lot out of me. Investigative journalism is new to me, and I'd prefer to leave it to the professionals.


Keep the American aluminum recycling industry working. Buy a Cane Creek 110 headset today.

* Eric likes my new use of excessive foul language, and I like to keep my sponsors happy.

One on a Saturday just because...

Today is the last day of La Vida Bachelor 2010. The family will be home by the end of the day, and I'm gonna try to squirt out for one last shitty ride before they come home... after I clean the house and make it look like I didn't live like a pig for a week. I won't be going to work on Monday, so I don't plan on being up early before work to post a new entry for your viewing pleasure. I was going to squeeze something out there this morning about how I am homesick for dirt, but then I clicked over to Mike Ferrentino's blog for a looksee.

I know some of you think Mark Weir is an asshole. Some have met him and formed an opinion, while others have just made their decisions based on hearsay and rumors mixed with conjecture and preconceived notions. I've met him, and I can't say I have any room to pass some sorta judgment on him... not like it's our duty as humans to go around judging folks, but it's what we do, right? Recently Mark was the victim of a house fire in which he lost everything, save for the important things, his wife and kid. I don't know what that has to do with anything, other than the fact that people can maybe see him as a human now.

I said "Who's house?"

From what I gather only a few people really KNOW Mark, but after reading Mike's blog this morning I feel like Mark must be a brother from another mother. All the things I was thinking about saying this morning he already said in a much more eloquent manner than I probably would have. So without Mike or Mark's permission I have cut and pasted the following excerpt* which came from the brain of a man that I will refuse to believe is an asshole:

I guess I would like to talk about different stuff, not just about racing bikes and epic hard rides.

I would like to talk about the battle to never want to lose the love for the ride.

Riding bikes is the first thing on my mind and the last thing before I go to sleep. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

I hate that maybe what I really do may not be that interesting and carry enough press to keep the dream alive.

I’m not saying I have had a toughest life around. I have lost touch with people because I picked my bike first. I stopped riding with people because they did not emit the vibe I was looking for from a riding partner.

How could I love my family as much as I do without riding my bike this much? That’s a question I don’t like to think about and it sounds ridicules.

I feel like my addictive personality comes through worse everyday. It would seem that there are a lot more people like me.

Some times when I wake up my mind sounds like rave music. I hear different thoughts at a million miles an hour.

When this happens I can not focus on anything. That’s when I get on my bike and float the valves till they go away.

As corny as it all sounds. Riding my bike is not my job, it’s not my hobby, or a vain conversation. It is the thing that makes me sane. My bike is a tool that preserves life.

Mark Weir: Cabbage patching his way down the trail of life.

photo by Forrest Arakawa (I think)

Remember, one man's asshole is another man's.... unnhhh.. I dunno where to go with this.

* You can read it all here: http://www.santacruzbicycles.com/104bronson/?p=783

Beat me, get naked pictures

I had some new shit show up in my mailbox last night, but I promised myself I would stick to doing what I had been planning on doing for weeks on this day, February 12th year of our gourd 2010.

Back before Christmas I got a new phone. I joined the 2000's and got a phone that would do more than make phone calls.

Since I finally got a phone with a camera built in (wow, who knew such a thing existed?) I decided I was going to try to get more shots for the purpose of blog fodder. For the most part I have failed miserably. I have captured some images in the past couple of months though, and today I will share them with the class.

The US Census came to town, and they were handing out bags of shit to let people know how important it is that we all line up tallest to smallest in March. I did not elect to receive a bag of shit, but I did find one abandoned on a park bench, so I took it inside Fourbucks and inspected the contents.

The US Census; Brought to you by the people of China. Seems to me that a great way to stimulate the US economy would be to stuff the US and A shit bags with shit made here in the US and A. Don't we make foam baseballs and paperclip holders in the US? No? Oh... well, we should.

The other day (about two weeks ago) my commute was rather harrowing. I took absolutely zero photos of the long patches of ice I had to traverse, the sastrugi laden sidewalk that had frozen loaves of bread and softballs strewn about it, or the front yards I had to ride through to avoid the nastiest of said messes. I was too focused on my commute to stop, so all I got was this lame picture of my bike when I finally got to work.

Ho hum.

I snapped this image on the way to work the other day.

You may wonder why I bothered, but here's what's what. Some hard working crew of men who refused to be identified installed a surveillance camera on my route to work. I inquired as to who was behind this Big Brother tactic, but the Nathan vest wearing bastards ignored me while they gathered up their gear and scurried away. Being a suspicious little man I looked into it a little further.

I went down to the Surveillance Camera Permitting Department in the Charlotte Government Building (on the 13 1/2 floor) and with a little sweet talk and chocolate covered ham I got the lonely civil servant to give up the goods. The permit was applied for by Art Vandelay Industries, a cover for the Swiss Geo Thermal Energy Commission, which is a front for the People of Judea's Front, which is the sole undisclosed owner of cyclingnews.com.

Apparently cyclingnews.com has been harboring a secret crush on me the whole time. While I had thought they shunned me altogether and had no interest whatsoever concerning my goings on, they are in fact preparing to do an expose' on me. I had my suspicions when I saw Harlan Price in front of my house digging through my garbage, but when Sue George was following me around Trader Joe's with a steno pad I knew something was up. Note to self: Dump the medical waste at work when no one is looking.

Last weekend while I was supposed to be at Hoffencross (an auspicious event that was canceled) TURDFINGER was supposed to watch my dogs. On Sunday I came home from the mountains and my front door was left in a manner in which I do not leave it, so I wondered if in fact TURDFINGER had stopped by (not on the right date or the right time had I been outta town though). I checked for the usual evidence, a penis drawing left on the fridge, graffiti on a magazine left on the coffee table, or perhaps one of my beers emptied out with a snuffed out cigarette floating at the bottom left on my porch... no, nothing. Then I saw this on my yet to be opened case of Sierra Nevada left over from my unsupervised trip to Costco:

There you have it. Turdfinger, you can always depend on him to be a day late and ten dollars short.

And finally, here's a job I accepted early yesterday morning:

Three boxes, four blocks, and the day ended up being soooo slow that I got paid hourly as opposed to commission, so I was not rewarded for the extra effort and pain in the ass. Meh.

And one tidbit of real information before I say goodbye.

I heard from the folks that put on The Six Hours of Warrior Creek that they will be filled up with registrations this year. If you haven't gotten your registration in yet you best hurry. Ladies (I know you just come here for the sexy screen saver images), your field is on the minimal side, so sign up and and try to beat me since I'm racing in the women's solo class this year (better chance at a podium thinks I). Keep me off the podium and I'll personally send you the images that I don't use on the blog due to their NSFW status. Very nice.