See you next beer.

Since I got four days in a row off, and I can only clean so much gutter, I took the time to write a little something something to end the year of our lorb 2025.  Being that this concludes my full 20th year of blerhging, I couldn't let it go out with just a whisper of a fart noise, lest ye think I'd given up.

Things at work should calm down soon, I'm starting to think about 2026, Winter Shart Tarck is right around the corner, and I should be building up a 32" rigid single speed shortly. 

I guess this is some perverse cycle sport form of nesting.  Most of the pieces parts are ready to go, although the purple bespoked wheels are still a mystery time away from being full reality because China and rims and stupid wheel sizes.

Stuck a 29er tube in there for a couple reasons.  One, to reassure myself that it will indeed be useful in the case of tire calamities that can't be solved with sealant or plugs.  Two, to make sure my spare tube holds air overnight... because you should check these things every once in awhile (it did, btw).

I'm as much excite as I am anxious about finally riding this thing.  Other than the random geared bike I buy (and end up feeling meh about), most of the bikes I get are just skosh different than the single speed it will/might replace.  I'm really jumping into the unknown head first on this one, and I wonder if I will be one of dozens or mebbe hundreds of people who will have actually tried a 32er VS the definite hundreds or thousands worldwide that have opined at length based on ignorant conjecture, assumptions, lame prejudice, and just enough of a grasp on mountain bike geometry that if you put it in your belly button, there would still be enough room for an elephant to run around in it.

I'm hoping the Pink Bike type haters start a Ded Pool regarding which twist of fate I will be met with first.

1. I get behind a drooped saddle and rip my balls off.
2. I oversteer in a corner and fall over.

3. I understeer in a corner and fly over the top of a berm.
4. I do a three foot huck to flat and blow the wheels up because they're not Super Boost or whatever.

5. I smash my balls because "standover."
6. I win a World Cup XC race and ruin everything.

7. Basically, Jurassic Park just happens.

8. All the above.

I got my fingers super crossed that I can get all the pieces of the puzzle together at least a full weekend before Winter Shart Tarck starts, because I can't imagine my first outing being an all-out, sub-40 minute, asses and elbows "ride" with fifteen to twenty guys trying to beat each other's dicks off. 

I'll get a few rides in before I share my feelings with the class, you know, to like, have an opinion, man.

*sigh*

The last three twelve packs to make it to the Dillen household... the '25 Celebration truly is over.

Dick Punching

What can I say?  Work has been punching me in the dick so hard that I clock out at 5:01pm, ride home, waste an hour and a half ruminating on the day, following that with a half hour of anticipating the shit show that will be tomorrow, and then staring off into space until I fall asleep. 

There have been bright moments.  A not completely rained out trip to Knoxville with Türd to play bicycles.  A weekend of the same same up in Pisgah with Bill Nye.  A Black Metal Friday Cyclocross brewery crawl.  Leaf management...

Stellar moments.

I took today off so I could at least write a blerhg post and ride around in the sunshine later... and also avoid work.  

Since I just glossed over the past three weeks like they never happened, here's some good news.

I had a flat tire in Pisgah going too hard in the paint down Trace Ridge... well, sorta.  I heard a pretty loud KA-TUNGG from my rear wheel, and then things felt a bit squishy, but instead of stopping, I just rode on hoping to make it down to the bottom before I needed to address the issue.  Upon close insptection, I could only see a small amount of sealant near the bead, an obvious indication of a pinch flat... do we still call it that with toobless tires?

Anyways, dump some water on it... no bubbles... commence to hitting it with CO2 (once I got done being flustered by an inflator head I've never used), and voila.  

TruckerCo sealant.  This stuff just works.  I don't know how many times it's sealed a puncture without me knowing it, but it's definitely taken good care of me over a dozen times that I am aware of.   Aside from some sizeable tears, it's only not worked when I forgot to check to see if there was any in my tires.

Have you checked your fluid levels lately?

You should.

The brass'ish looking bit on the lower inflator is a "coupler" which serves no other purpose than keeping the inflator from piercing the CO2... the same as the clear bit of plastic the other inflator uses... which doesn't get seized in the inflator rendering it useless.

I've made it known that I hate to ride with a pack.  A hydration pack.  A fanny pack.  If it straps to my body in any fashion in order to greaten my cargo capacity, I dislike it for one or more of my catalog of reasons I despise them.

I won a Tsuga hip pack at the Ridge Runout Gravel event back in... September?   Seems like a year ago at this point.  Anyways, I'd also won an expensive (to me) Rambler Tote (also from Tsuga) that I've used probably ten more times than the zero times that I've used the ass sack.

Since work was stressing me out so much that the idea of packing for two cold days of Pisgah garvel and trails was overwhelming, I just started throwing shit in a bag to be sorted out later.  I made lots of bad clothing decisions on Saturday's garvel (and also Pink Beds, no recommendo), and I paid the price.  I ended up strapping on the Tsuga hip pack just so I could have an increased ability to carry more wardrobe options.

It doesn't hold a whole lot, but it did the jerhb.  The best part was, I'm assuming due to the wide flat supportive bits that sit on my hips, I barely noticed that I was wearing it at all.  Also.... two cold rides in Pisgah reminded me that I should most definitely be carrying an emergency blanket AND fire starter shit.

All that said, I guess I can recommend it... because the one I got musta been a prototype or earlier version of the Pivot Pro as it is absent of the bottle swaddling component.  

Nevertheless, I had spare winter gloves and neoprene toe covers strapped to the outside, and thought nothing about the security of their storage for most of the day.

I'm heading out for a ride at the warmest part of the day, and probably stopping at a brewery (or two) to pour one out (into my mouth) for my recently deceased high school frand and former college roommate, Biff.

Get bent and SURF OHIO, my frands.