Laurel and hearty handshakes

I did ride on Saturday. My neighbor Todd, who lives less than .25 miles from my place of residence, invited me to join him and his people to ride at the "new and improved" Uwharrie.

Todd destroying all in his path

The "new and improved" Uwharrie is wide open and no longer rocky where rocks used to be. Much to like and much to be missed. The improved trail has drawn a huge amount of traffic, and thusly the increased two-way traffic has made me aware of the increased ignorance in proper trail etiquette regarding right-of-way. I didn't know what to think of this.

"Hmmmmmmmm....."

Without going into details, I'm just gonna say "Do unto others as you would have them get out of your way," or something like that. Common sense and courtesy. Don't harsh someone's gig, and be kind, rewind.



That's the movie version. In the politically correct edited for TV version, the old lady says "Outta my way, nigger."

Because that makes sense.

Great ride and afterwards... great (big) beer.

And I don't wanna forget to mention that I wore my new favoritist ever socks in the world... again.


Merino wool Pursuit Sevens in blazing brown... at least I think they are brown. I tried to get a photo that would show just what the color looks like, but I failed. Apparently I'm not the only that has troubles capturing this glorious earth tone.

My attempt:

and Swiftwick's lack thereof:

Out of all the socks that were in my latest shipment, these have been put into service the most.

I just don't get these socks for nothing. They are a gift in appreciation for all I do at......

whatever it is that I'm doing.

I gotta say I'm pleased. With a drawer full of black Sevens, it's nice to have options... like gray!

Daring!!

Not to mention some sexy SSUSA fours and a pair of twelves that let people know I like tall socks and loud colors.

The only thing that I don't like about having one pair of favorite go-to socks? Laundry time. We (me) have an issue with rogue socks in the house, and when one half of one pair goes missing, I lock down the house until the escapee is found. No one leaves, no one enters, and no one sleeps.

The Pie does not always like when I get a new shipment of socks. Something about the militant atmosphere that kills all the happiness in the house when I pull the laundry basket out of the closet. I think that's why gRant threw in the little pink pairs to appease the sock warden.

It had been much too long...

I rode Saturday (more on that later... tomorrow?).

I worked on some things on Sunday.

Given the opportunity and the noisy reminder that I needed to work on my bike, I got down to business on Sunday. I mighta (closely) watched the Women's National CX race first, but after that, I ran to the store and prepared for the task at hand before the men's race started.

Saturday's ride reminded me in an auditory manner that I had been ignoring my bike for quite awhile. I thought I'd be able continue to ignore it until the Meat Stickel arrived, but the cacophonic clamor was too much to bear. It's been resoundingly pinging, panging, clacking, ticking, and creaking all too long. I couldn't take it any longer.

I removed the MOOTSpost. All the little MOOTSbits were wiped down with a ProTowel, lubed, and reinserted properly. Seated climbing will no longer be ignored in favor of more peaceful standing. I can sit and be lazy once more.

The amount of black gobbled D gook in all the little tight places was bewildering. No more.

Fresh meat mounted up front. Old front meat now new back meat. Traction to improve ten-fold. Noise reduced? Naught.

XTR pedals were removed, disassembled and properly lubed/adjusted...

all while trying to keep a keen eye on Ryan Trebon's failed efforts to be totally awesome.

There was an annoying creaking coming from my brake levers. For the first time (honestly) I broke out the Luber Pen.

This device makes sense to me now. Lube in tiny places and not all over the place. Dick Bruceman wins. Pull back on the lever, and peaceful braking is within reach.

I had to swap a terribly worn-out ring with a less than worn-out ring. The Cracker Barrel puzzle of trying to get the ring off without removing the crank arm was a fail.

Damn it.

The last piece of maintenance? Gluing a multi-panel chamois back together.

All because I had some time, a place, some beer, and the impetus of riding around on a noisy bike all day Saturday...

Which I will get back to tomorrow.

The moral of the story? Work on your shit once and awhile. If you don't know how to, then learn. If you don't wanna learn, support your LBS with your money and brownies. Word on the street is that real mechanics prefer brownies over beer.

Glad I am not a real mechanic.

Are you getting it? Really getting it?

I hope yinzers are enjoying the increased quality of the images on the blog. I have been doing what I must to make things more "visually stimulating" around here. Although Tyler "Tool Bag" Benedict has proven that you can use your tongue to control your iPhone (oh-so-smart phone) with gloves one...

"Can you hear me talking douchey now?"

I've had great success using my much more hygienic nose part. Many of the images from the ride I went on last Sunday were taken with my nose. I guess there's always the option to "sew a bit of conductive thread to the tip of your (my) glove," but that would require a trip to the robot store and parting ways with a Jackson.

photo stolen from bikerumor.com

If I seem off lately, it's because things at work have changed, and I'm still adjusting. More work, more money, more responsibility, more hours... the American dream. Trying to plan a "season" right now, but I'm lacking focus at the moment. I did jump on the bandwagon for PMBAR yesterday, as if there was any doubt that I was going back. If you want in, you'd better grab a partner and get registered since it's 50% sold-out only two days into registration. It's the only race I've done eight years in a row, if that gives you a clue as to how awesome an event it is.

I'm also signed up for ORAMM (the most important race on the international cycling calendar), 6 Hours of Warrior Creek (the most funnest 6 hours of anything in the world), and in a moment of semi-lucid/semi-buzzed typing, I registered The Wonderboy and I for another New Belgium Urban Assault. I'll be signing up for the Icycle XC and Night DH some time over the weekend...

And of course, there's the Pisgah 111 (permit pending).

Good Lord. Except for ORAMM, that's all happening before June. Perhaps I've been planning a season without even knowing it. It's too late to start training now.

Looking forward to 2013 already (even if it may be canceled due to Armageddon II).

Technology stymied and true love

A few things and then something else.

I tried to make my oh-so-smart phone into a sound system.

I failed.

So my oh-so-smart phone can help me make great bike blog, but without further investment, it will not add to my in-shower entertainment.

I did find an alternative use for another piece of technology in the house, my Feedback Sports digital scale.

Had to do an in-home weight assessment for foster puppy medication. The young canine in the photo told me he felt "objectified." He weighs almost .5lbs more than my Misfit diSSent Brontoawesomeous Meatplow V.5 frame, and although he is black and white just like my bike, he is much harder to ride.

I am not a fan of beer reviews on bike websites or in bike magazines. I wouldn't even think of putting one on my blog, but this is different. I had a beer over the holidays that was less of a beverage and more of a life experience.

SweetWater Brewing Company's seasonal Catch 'n Release Happy Ending. Very likely the best beer I have ever tasted.

Sadly, the place where I normally purchase my beer has not had it on the shelves since I first found it there around the New Year's holiday. I'm not a big fan of driving around looking for beer, and if I have to make a beer run, I normally do it on my bike anyways, thus limiting my beer finding radius slightly. I must say, if you have the chance to buy some, do so immediately.

I took the time to enjoy my last one from a glass.

Seasonal beers... why do I fall in love with one every winter? Such an unhealthy relationship that will never end well.

What am I gonna do now?

Since next year is now this year, I might as well start talking about it. Assuming I don't sneak into a short track race or two before then, the first race I'm doing in 2012 will be the Icycle XC/Night Downhill on January 28th.

This race never disappoints. I've been doing it off and on since 1999 (I think), but I have skipped it for many years now.

This would be Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever's view in the back of the "DH shuttle." If I had to guess, the year was 2001. I'm basing that on my green Boreas helmet and the Santa Cruz Bullit I'm holding on to. The format was different back then. Night DH Saturday/XC race Sunday. That year I managed to win the Sport DH class, get victoriously smashed on beer and Mad Dog, and came back from sleeping on the floor to win the XC race the following day. Good times.

I think the duration of my most recent absence between Icycles has a direct correlation to just how bad of a hangover I had at the last one. Four years equals one bad hangover.

It all started innocently enough, happiness abounding all over the place.

photo cred: let's assume Brado took all the pictures in today's post

It was a relatively beautiful day. Things were looking up for the XC race.

Remember, this was a time long ago. I was fresh off my World Championship win in 2006 and looking to get back to the business of having fun. It was the time of the re-painted Zion frame and well before there were any Awesome Straps.

That's a toe strap pulling tube securing duties.

I had fun "racing"....

until I got lost, ended up going backwards on the course, ran headlong into traffic that was rolling the correct direction, and quit. Then the bad things started.

I brought a bottle of Chimay and two bottles of Mad Dog (it's an Icycle thing). Someone else brought kegs of beer and fire. I had one failed attempt at a practice DH run and decided it was safer to just keep drinking. It was not.

Nick the Stick put the beatdown on me.

Someone poured me into bed. Someone else stole the keys to the Dirty Little Box, did donuts in the ball field, and left it out there.

I woke up with a broken rib, blood with the viscosity of gravy, and a swollen head. You shoulda seen the other guy.

So, it took me four years to put that pain behind me, and for the last three years I had to read about how great the event was on MTBR's NC/SC forum.

But not this year.

I plan on being there, although I have yet to register. I plan on traveling with the younger crowd from Charlotte, and there seems to be some latency in their resolve to register as well. Someone needs to crack the whip around here.

And as promised...

The Wednesday retro Dick pic of the week.

That's me and my inflatable Sylvester-in-a-speedboat pool toy. I still have those trunks, although they fit a bit more snug on me now.

Happy freaking New Year!!

Although I said it wouldn't happen, last year's resolution for twelve trail work days a year...

completed.

Small step-up gap alternate line

I got my 12th and final day of trail work in for 2011 on Dec 31st. Added a little something-something to the short track. Been eying it up for a couple years. Victory.

Sunday, I was in on Big Worm's plan for a ride down Heartbreak Ridge. The Wonderboy came out of retirement for this occasion.

Unbelievable.

We went through Motreat, but not the way others would go. Undiscovered country.

Big Worm had a map. Well, it was a map-like piece of paper with squiggly lines and such.

We might have accidentally been on a hiking trail.

It's not like we actually "rode" it anyways. We kinda sorta just walked .64 miles to the top of a mountain up a zig zaggy trail that intersected with a happy place before we started our climb up Old Toll Road. When we hit the standard approach up Rattle Snake, we came upon three strangers, Jane, Tom, and Cameron. By the end of the day, they were less than strange.

Typical shot of the typical view from the Old Toll Road overlook.

Typical injury that one might get on a typical body part if they try riding on a typical sloping, wet boulder.

We climbed all the way up to the resort villa at the top of the climb with our new found friend-type people.

After we bombed down the fire-hose-blown-out descent that sits above the Heartbreak Ridge descent that most ORAMM'ers have experienced, we put the serious chunk-a-lunk behind us.

I tried to snap a photo of Big Worm right before the entrance to the ORAMM-made famous descent.

I got this:

The Wonderboy was much easier to capture due to his overall lack of speed.

Yes, we taped his feet to the pedals just like they did to Dave Stoller in Breaking Away. I couldn't find the clip, but here's Moocher punching the clock.



There's an overlook on the other side of the world that looks back at the other overlook. We did not overlook the fact that we we're looking at it although we couldn't find it.

Big Worm captured us capturing the moment.

photo cred: Big Worm

They were looking at the scenery. I was actually checking my makeup in my iMirror.

When we got to the rooty section that makes my butt pucker at ORAMM every year, I walked over them. Then The Wonderboy came along, looked at it, and rode it like it was nothing.

Keep in mind, I usually roll into this section exhausted from 40+ miles of effort. I've never taken the time to examine the problem. Not while racing. Not while out and about on a fun ride. I have no desire to end up like this guy (at 10:23):



So Tom, Jane, and Cameron caught up to us while I was contemplating my attempt at this section. Big Worm snapped these off while waiting for me to shit or get off the pot:

Tom

Jane

Cameron

Those images give you a better idea of the exposure to the side of the trail. Years ago, Big Worm tumbled down the hill and ended up getting a mountain laurel punji shoved into his arm requiring stitches. He reminded me of this right before I decided to try it.

You have to ride about 2" from a tree on the right (your left in the photo) on the approach to make it work. I'm sure Sam Koerber never even slows down when he hits it... whatever.

Victory number one of the new year. I also shat my pants.

Best ride down Heartbreak in a very, very, very long time.

Maybe 2012 won't suck so bad after all.

I signed up for ORAMM the day before this ride. Coincidence? I think not.