The Goat Heads Are Ready!

The smell (and sound) of basmati rice and lentils, gently simmering on the stove, mingles with cool early morning air as it falls into the house through an open window. They slam into one another right here where I sit, in front of the computer reminding me of my years in a Turkish prison. I woke up in love this morning, but it may just be the early symptoms of West Nile disease (God Damn this outdoor lifestyle!) My hips feel like they've been beaten by the prison guards (again!) I was movin' kinda slow upon risin' this morning. Might just be all this running up and down steep hillsides with a fargin' bicycle hoisted upon me shoulder. Oh well, if nothing else it's good penitence.

Check out my 69'r!

Well I intended to have a short video of my little 69'r CX bike here but alas, my computer skills are on par with my bike mechanic skills... NEEDS TO IMPROVE! I had a funny dream this morning just before I woke up, in which I was in a cyclocross race. I discovered that it was just as fast to run with the bike on my shoulder as it was to try to ride the very technical course. It got real weird when I realized that some of the other guys had also figured it out but had taken it a step further. They were cross-country runners carrying small pieces of a bicycle (brake levers, chain rings) and were winning races on a technicality!

YouTube - Black Forest (Lorelei) / Mercury Rev

YouTube - Black Forest (Lorelei) / Mercury Rev HAPPY EQUINOX! Enjoy some Mercury Rev!

Trouble? Call Mr. Wizard!

With cooler mornings and shorter days, you better believe that thoughts of the upcoming cyclocross season are on more than just this old boy's mind. There is a buzz in every shop (bicycle) in town and lots of phone calls and emails are being made and sent. I got to work outfitting my crazy, Frankenstein Bike, for it's next incarnation as a 69'r, one-speed, CX machine. Almost immediately, I found myself in a spot of bother with the, how the hell am I going to do that, REALITY of the project . You see, I am not a real bicycle mechanic, I just play one at my real job, at Carpet Mart. So, thanks to my friends at BIKES ETC. another one of my Hare-Brained ideas will be rolling around here on earth with my old carcass atop it!

One Speed Super Moto.

I have been riding my Redline, 925 bike on Saturday mornings for about a month now. I go from my house down Bechelli Lane to Bonneyview then over the river west through the construction area. Nice progress is being made down there, soon it will be a very cycle-friendly byway. The big tandem tires, the bike is shod with, allow me to hop over to the (still) gravelled sections , well off to the side of the narrow traffic corridor. I then work my way north, up through the farm-like neighborhoods of that area, to strategically emerge on Eastside road, right at Cross Fit training gym. So far, my hope of being seen by fellow cyclocross people has not panned out. Then it was up to the Farmer's Market at the city hall for an amazing oatmeal raisin cookie to fuel my further northern meanderings. Over the Sundial bridge to Market Street, I got back on the dirt at the bottom of Sulphur Creek hill and went up the old hwy 99 route to Lake Blvd. About a half a mile further north I got on Twin View Road (also old 99?) and got up to the Redding Record Searchlight area. From there I roll down through up-scale neighborhoods to a cool little dirt section along Churn Creek to the North end of Hawley Road. From there it turns into Churn Creek Road, south through the "Big Box" jungle and home for yet another cuppa Tea.

Wednesday Morning Ride.

Feels like I've been abducted by some kind of dream ghost, during my absence, the season change has happened. Rode my Mono-Hopper this morning at 6:30, started out dark and cold, ended back here at Carpet Mart, cool and Autummy. I threw on a few extra articles of warm gear (could have used fingered gloves!) then headed on up to sundial bridge and out west on the river trail. Staying close to the river probably contributed to my chill factor but I didn't want to be out there in traffic, in the dark. Something about riding early, feeling groggy and stiff and hitting those first climbs (that makes breathing feel as if I were sucking through a soda straw) that really blows! I think I may be going back to Wednesday Evening rides real soon. In the mean while, cooler temps are sure wonderful.

What's on your I-POD?

I see that now-a-days, a common question asked of celebrities is, "What's on your I-Pod?" When I think back, not so long ago (that is, if you're old enough to not consider the entire lifetime of a young adult a long time!) to the choices of music that the average Shasta County resident (of the 70's) had available to themselves, compared to today, it really "Blows one's mind!" When I think back to the Pop Music, Top 40 B.S. Neil Diamond, Carly Simon, K.C. and Sunshine, Horse manure (Hmmm, that's a fun word, it's Ma, that's a nice word, with newah at the end!) I am semi-amazed that there weren't more Charlie Manson, John Wanye Gacys running around out there!
Well it's September so I have begun throwing in the occasional, dismount-and-run-with-the-bike-on-my-shoulder to my rides, in preparation for the not too distant cyclo-cross season (YAY!, OUCH!) There I was riding along with my decidedly retro transistor radio playing when Tourrettes-like, I leapt from the bike and began plowing and crawling up a steep embankment, while singing loudly in my operatic falsetto voice, along with the radio, "September Morn, I reached to you to find a brand new day!"

The Swamp Thing!

I got a phone call from a guy on Monday asking me if I was was the guy who Jason had entrusted the the bicycle co-op with. He told me his name was Joey and that a friend of his named Matt told him to call me. He told me that he had an old Nishiki 10 speed that he wanted to cannibalize parts from it to a frame set (that he had) that was lighter and taller. I told him to bring it on down and I would look at it. The Nishiki, 27" wheels, although ride-able, was indeed a lead weight. The frame-set was a bare bones frame with a mismatched fork 700c size. I thought we were up against the old "Well, for $200.00, we can build you a real nice $50.00 bike" scenario. But then we took a quick walk out to the bone yard and there was the solution. A big old Centurion 10 speed with broken wheels, rusted cranks and handle bars, every cable welded solid in it's housing, everything about it said, "Hi, I've spent the last ten years in a Vernal pond out in the middle of Nowhere!" But then, to my utter amazement, I spun the cranks and found the bottom bracket was smooth as butter and the same thing happened when I tested the head set. Long story short, I took the good stuff from the Nishiki and a crank-set from an old mt. bike and built a fairly sweet ride for Joey and I got to play"Bike Guru" again.

Time Trial Suprise!

The final Time Trial of the Redding Velo Time Trial Series was Sunday. Since it was the exact same course that the series opened with, I thought it would be fun to ride a different bike this time. I considered a one speed with a free wheel, I toyed with taking out the "Fixie", but ended up riding "The Worlds Fastest Rockhopper." That crazy little flat barred, MTB with a 29'r forked, road tire front-end. Meanwhile, bringing up the rear is a 26" wheel, shod with a skinny little slick-bald tire at 100 p.s.i. I have always known that that little bike felt fast but now I know for sure. I turned a time only a few seconds slower on it over the 10K course then I did on my "real" road bike. I have been running the tapes over and over, trying to account for what really happened out there. Was it my relaxed, semi-cavalier attitude, knowing that I wasn't going to "set the world on fire?" Was it the fact that since I don't have an enormous set of gears on that bike, I simply had to spin and thus, not completly blowing, I actually had a kick left fot the last mile? Or is it the fact that living in the Magic Kingdom of my mind, I am blinded to the fact that there are guys out there who could do my times on a fargin' Razor scooter and that am losing sight of the fact that I am actually a solid rider of the Recreational Group! Not the the Elite!

Back to school, again.

Riding with others is a great way to learn. I tend to ride alone quite often, siting issues of rider- ego conflicts, lack of individual punctuality and general "Horse Crap" when groups of 2 or more try to go for a ride. Yet somehow, bands of cyclists, of varying elitism, have been regularly gathering and riding for many years here in Redding, without or without my stamp of approval. I rode with about 12 riders yesterday morning out of Joe Gazzigli's place and tore up the Shasta Dam ride like a man possessed. I rode the Red bike and had a blast. Some of those "Old Boys" (60+) are amazingly strong and took me to school (again) on some of the climbs. But, my homework is really paying off and helping me to get to the top of the class. Hopefully I'll be on the honor roll this semester!

The Feast of the Assumption

The Catholic doctrine of the Assumption of Mary into Heaven states that Mary was transported into Heaven with her body and soul united. Although the Assumption was only officially declared a dogma by Pope Pius XII in his Apostolic Constitution Munificentissimus Deus in 1950, its roots in Catholic culture and art go back many centuries. While Pope Pius XII deliberately left open the question of whether Mary died before her Assumption, the more common teaching of the early Fathers is that she did.[24][25]
An early supporter of the Assumption was Saint John of Damascus (676-794), a Doctor of the Church who is often called the Doctor of the Assumption.[26] Saint John was not only interested in the Assumption, but also supported the use of holy images in response to the edict by the Byzantine Emperor Leo III, banning the worship or exhibition of holy images.[27] He wrote: "On this day the sacred and life-filled ark of the living God, she who conceived her Creator in her womb, rests in the Temple of the Lord that is not made with hands. David, her ancestor, leaps, and with him the angels lead the dance."
The Eastern Church held the feast of the Assumption as early as the second half of the sixth century, and Pope Sergius I (687-701) ordered its observance in Rome.[28]
The Orthodox tradition is clear that Mary died normally, before being bodily assumed. The Orthodox term for the death is the Dormition of the Virgin. Byzantine depictions of this were the basis for Western images, the subject being known as the Death of the Virgin in the West. As the nature of the Assumption became controversial during the High Middle Ages, the subject was often avoided, but depiction continued to be common until the Reformation. The last major Catholic depiction is Caravaggio's Death of the Virgin of 1606.
Meanwhile depictions of the Assumption had been becoming more frequent during the late Middle Ages, with the Gothic Siennese school a particular source. By the 16th century they had become the norm, initially in Italy, and then elsewhere. They were sometimes combined with the Coronation of the Virgin, as the Trinity waited in the clouds. The subject was very suited to Baroque treatment.

Let's get cracking!

Shhh! Nobody say anything but, the year is startin' to get a bit long in the tooth. I went out on a fact finding mission yesterday and here is what I found. I began my day at the stroke of 3 a.m. I got up and walked outside and looked at the sky to the East. There they were, the Pleiades, that famous little star cluster we called the little dipper as kids. I always interpret the wee hour's rising of that constellation (and Orion) as harbingers of Autumn. Now lest you think me as a bonafide old geezer, let me assure you that I then went straight back to bed for a couple of hours worth of creative dreaming! My internal clock is (generally) so incredibly reliable that I rarely use an alarm clock. But the sun played a trick on me and I didn't resurface until around 6:30. The sun has made considerable progress on it's apparent trip south, and it's light is starting to arrive later in the morning and departing earlier in the evening. I have referred to August 15th as the "Crack of the year" for a long time now and I'm here to tell you, she's crackin'!

Squash Hopper

Wow, with this little bit o' monsoon flow and rain, Redding felt like a sweltering terrarium this afternoon. Then I checked the humidity and it read 27%. Can you imagine what folks back East would say if you told them that we were steaming in 90 degree weather with 27% humidity?! They would laugh your little wilted ass all the way back to Redding. Rode early this morning out to Keswick area, again, on the Monohopper, again. I felt like crap for the first couple of miles but slowly got going and was completely delighted by the time I got back. Saute'ed up a bunch o' zucchini and crookneck squash with tofu and Italian herbs for breakfast. Yum!

Feeling Good!

I got a couple of good rides in this weekend. Saturday I hooked up with my bro Tim. I rode my one-speed Mt. bike (Monohopper) and he rode his mechanically-challenged, junk, Mt. bike. We had a nice ride out to Keswick area and rode some dirt, saw Leo,"The Legend" Smith. Then we spun our noggings off coming back. Good times! Sunday I rode with the Gazzigli crew on my Funny-Bike the infamous "World's Fastest Rockhopper" I fixed the pedal problem (from Wednesday night) and rode fairly well. I told Allen Kost that riding that bike makes me feel real fast when I do take my Red Bike out. Allen kindly said, "You are fast on the Red Bike Jim!" Coming from him, I'm honored.

I will not go quietly!

I rode with the fast guys (for a few miles) last night. Basically the same Wednesday night ride that's been done here in Redding for over 20 years. Only the names have changed. Lots of guys wearing Owen's pharmacy jerseys and a hand of actual living, breathing, non-android guys. That freight train really starts to get moving just past Wisconsin Ave. heading out Placer. Even with the incredible draft one gets toward the back of the pack, I found it hard to stay on the wheel of the guy in front of me. By the time we got to Swasey I was blown. All I could do was watch that long, thin pace-line steadily drive away from me. I have a few excuses as to why they dropped me (wrong bike, faulty pedal clip on the left foot, and of course 52 years old) but the bottom line is I had a blast while it lasted! My plan now is to fix the pedal, stay completely away from the front, and get on Rocky's (61 year old) rear wheel and stay there! And by God if I have to, I'll ride something other than "The World's Fastest Rockhopper!"

Moderately Unhealthy

It was official, the powers that be declared that Saturday's air quality had improved to a rating of "Moderately Unhealthy" so I headed out (on my trusty Monohopper) for the Keswick area. To me, the real beauty of the solo ride, is that it affords the lunatic (you know, the one inside my head) to fully ferment and rise like bread dough, expanding up and out of a mixing bowl. As you know from previous accounts of what I like to call, "The Magic Theatre" (a la Hesse) the Lunatic, being allowed free reign, begins assuming more and more control of the program until I (who?) am relegated to Snot-nosed, coal-shoveler boy. I am never disappointed by the shear volume of material within the evil genius' arsenal. So there I was riding my bike, howling and laughing, even screaming out choice little comments of my own (what the F&%!) and no doubt baffling not only my fellow outdoorsmen but a considerable portion of wildlife out there. No wonder I never see any mountain lions or bear or birds...

Again with the Frankenstein!

The comment on my preceding post prompts me to recall the old philosophical conundrum wherein one is asked to try to prove that we are not just brains in vats being electrically and chemically, stimulated and maintained to experience, what we call, "OUR LIVES." Numerous accounts from people who have undergone brain surgery with only topical anesthesia (so as to remain conscious) report that smells, tastes and even emotions are experienced while the surgeon probes various areas of the brain.
Although I have pondered this one for some time now, I have not yet developed an iron clad thesis that demonstrates the fact or flaw of this "MIND-GAME." Suffice it to say that about the only thing I have been able to deduce, with any degree of what might even remotely resemble certainty, is that my vat would be labeled---ABBIE-something!

Catch 22

The double-edged sword of scientific proof is that, while on the one hand we can know things with absolute certainty, the other hand must then abandon fantasy and myth. I am a big fan of 70's Sci-Fi literature, but I'll admit that the whole "matter traveling at the speed of light to make the whole thing work premise" is a bit disheartening. The incredibly miraculous, long life of Stephen Hawking (given the severity of his physical situation) has allowed him the time to take things (lately) into a realm of what many are saying is a second childhood, a fantastic, magical universe. He says that no matter how broad the lens we are looking though we are still thinking at too small a level. So maybe there is hope. Everything is entirely relative, absolute truth will reign absolute, until the next layer of the knowledge onion is revealed.

This is only a test...

I went out to Millville on Sunday with my especially prepared Rockhopper bicycle and ended up setting fastest time of the day. Actually, technically, the event was postponed due to smoke (of which there was almost none) and has been rescheduled for August. Oh well, I am glad that I did ride the course and hope to do so a few more times before the time trial actually takes place. There is plenty of opportunity to lose big time out on that course so it will really help to know when to push and when to try to recover. I can go out and run my body on the barf-button for about 20 mins. but not 45- 60. I will have to be smart or I'll blow like a 200 pound, ten year old boy on a birthday cake full o' joke candles. Please, no comments from my family, who threw me a wonderful birthday party last week!

Yet another alter-ego.

My birthday was on Wednesday and I was surprised to find a flippin' UNICYCLE, sitting on it's little stand, waiting for me. My family must really think I am from the circus. I am sad to report that the "missing years" of my life, do not include a Big-Top period however. I have been known to juggle lit flairs (during the wetter months) and I have done some tight rope walking, so this probably seemed like a perfectly logical gift to them. I am going to give it my best shot. If you see a unicycle for sale on Craig's list it aint me, it's some other guy... yeah, that's it.

Slinges and Arrowes

The Fourth of July weekend (3 days for me) somehow netted 3 good rides, i.e. relatively good air to breathe and moderate temps for me. My brother and I rode from his place in Jones Valley on Friday, the Fourth, on mountain bikes up Backbone Ridge road to a drop-in road, down to the Klickapudi Trail. I found myself fumbling at technical spots as I kept dodging poison oak and attempting to see through a pair of sunglasses that I had salted up with sweat while trying to stay on the madman's wheel. My brother may be my fiercest competition in cyclo-cross later this year. I also rode my one-speed, road bike on both Saturday and Sunday. I love that bike and am always amazed at how little the difference in the times I turn on it are vs. the geared bike. I am riding the road with a clip-on mirror lately and I absolutely love it. I am not hearing as well as I used to (thank you Steve Morse 1989) so the mirror adds a little more awareness as to what's bearing down on me at Mach 9. Time Trail July 13Th, Millville, "to gear or not to gear" that, is the question!

Like a Rock...Head!

Twenty years, where did they go? Twenty years, I don't know... Bob Segar.
My oldest daughter moved out of the nest this week. I have often said that she's been the biggest challenge of my entire life. Stubborn, Know-it-all, Unteachable, these are just of few of her, In-Yo-Face attributes. But she made me work and think and grow. One thing for sure, I hope I'm around for the next twenty so we can both figure out what the first were all about. And that's all I have to say about that!

Franken-Cycle!

It's alive!... ALIVE! My crazy project bike, built on what is known as a 69'r format, 26" wheel on the back, with a 700c wheel up front (a.k.a. 29'r). This project was made possible by the Bicycle Swap and Sell that we had here at Carpet Mart a few months ago. I have used so many parts from so many different bikes that I'm not even sure where some of the things came from. Right now I have road slicks on it and have put a big chain-ring on it for the up coming Time Trial in July. I am billing it as "The World's Fastest Mt. Bike!" Which, I suppose, can only be proven false by having "The Worlds Fastest Man" take it out for a ride and disproving it as such! I just love unquantifiable superlatives! For you see, I really am a sort of latter-day Dr. Frankenstein. Feel free to visit my la-BOR-Ra-Tory any time, moo-hah-hah!!!!

Smokin' with The Badger

Forest fires are smokin'-out the North state. But for the professional athlete, training must go on ;) Actually, Sunday morning wasn't too bad if you rode north of town so I rode to Shasta Dam with a couple of guys from the Gazzigli camp. We saw quite a few groups out there, everyone looking sharp and fast. What a world, what a beautiful sport. An old guy I have ridden with for over 20 years, told me that he is riding at just about the same speeds and times as he did back in the 70's. That is (according to him) not so much a testament of his ability as it is the ever improving state of the bicycle. I'm out there on my aluminum framed, carbon fiber forked, entry level (1K) road bike, feeling like Eddie Merckx. My buddy says, "Can you imagine what Eddie would have done on a bike like that!?"

I'd like to thank my fleet.,

Well, as per usual, Wednesday night found me parking my bus up at Benton Airpark, champing at the bit, for my mid-week-bicycle-get-away. I casually walked around to the sliding side door of the vehicle, slid it open and there it was... gone! Now I ask you, how in the world does a guy forget his freakin' bicycle!? Oh sure I've forgotten to bring my helmet, shoes, gloves, and sunglasses and water, but this is flippin' ridiculous! I stood there slack-jawed like some kind o' hillbilly yokel and imagined the guys back at the shop laughing their asses off at the site of me driving away for my Wednesday Night ride, while my bike sat there in the front lobby of the shop like a big neon sign flashing the word, DUMBSHIT, over and over. So I decided to just go home and get a bike from there and ride, rather than face my associates back at work. This morning I asked around to see if anyone noticed and it turns out that when you own as many bikes as I do nobody can keep track anyway!

Father's Day Hillclimb...OUCH!

The Redding Velo's second time-trial, in a series of four, took place on Sunday. Once again they put on a very well run event. I went out like levi leipheimer but finished like Hello Kitty. Dang, that hurt! 5.4 miles, 1100 ft. altitude change. Needless to say, I spent most of Father's Day flat on the floor with my feet up and the fan on, watching the U.S. Open Golf Tourney. I dozed and ate all day then called it a night around 8 P.M. I won a whole box of GU, power gels in the raffle after the ride.
My wife and kids treated me like a king and I had a great time of it! Please come out and participate in the next event in July. They (Redding Velo) say they can handle up 150 entries per event. So far there have only been about 20 for each of the first 2. Come on out and show your support, or can't you handle "The Truth!!!"

Glutton for Punishment?

There is a Time Trial coming up this Sunday out in the Millville area. A hill climb stage. http://www.reddingvelo.com/timetrialseries.html
I have been out testing a truly ludicrous formula (for this event) in the form of a one-speed Mt. bike. But after last night's road ride out Placer to Ranch land estates and Montgomery Ranch-Texas Springs area (on that bike), I have determined that a one-speed for hill climbing is tantamount to taking out one's dentures and ordering a steak dinner. What could I be thinking?
A few years back when I used to play golf, I'd go out with only a hand full of clubs (5 wood, seven iron, putter) and shoot fairly close to my score with a full bag of clubs. But after last years bicycle fiasco on the Mt. Shasta hill climb (2 hrs.+) on a fixed gear, one-speed, I must really have a short memory to even consider doing this sort of thing to myself ever again. It's like piling misery on top of pain!

Mono-Hopper Revisited.

I read the Sunday article in the paper about converting an old Mt. Bike into a one-speed city cruiser and with that got motivated to work out some of the bugs from the bike project, I call, The Mono-Hopper. Its old eighties geometry does not lend itself to a one-speed format (too long, too relaxed), unfortunately I didn't take this into consideration when I started blindly tearing into it. There really is nothing I can do about that, short of a frame and fork swap... but that's pretty much like changing the handle and head of an old axe and callin' it the same old axe! What I did do was loose the old Tomac type, long, flat stem and flat bars and put on pair of cool, big semi-slick tires. Now it feels like a city cruiser and my original (blurry) vision of the project is closer to taking form.

'Toon Town

Well another Wednesday night ride to, "The Top Of The world" and another opportunity to slip the surly bonds of earth and escape to my quite place. Last night as I rode I tried to see the world through the eyes of a poet and to create a sort of mental rough draft of beautiful, literary passages, resplendent with rich descriptive floridity. Unfortunately, it all got muddled up by a stupid song from the 80's pop-band, ABC. Yes folks, "When Smokey sings... every thing's good in the world, tonight" must have played in my head 200 times during my ride. Now don't get me wrong, I love all that early MTV stuff, but for cryin' out loud... I'm trying to have a "moment" here!

No Head in the wind.

I rode out Saturday morning to Sunset Market to try to hook up with Redding Mt. Bike Club. But, as I was running late, I saw that they were already caravaning(What's that you say? You're not familiar with that verb?) out for the trail head...Hornbeck Trail?...Caravaning? Anyway, I dropped in to the river trail via the new Sunset Bridges trail, then went out to the Ribbon Bridge, when suddenly, without any warning, the Magic Theater opened up for business and I went into that semi-nirvanic state where it feels like some old sled dog is pulling my bike along while I sit at a round table discussion, sampling from a huge library of topics ranging from the meaning of life to thoughts of whether all this talk about Mt. Lions is just the governments way of keeping it's citizens out of the great outdoors where expansive thinking can occur. "They want us safely locked in our houses, trembling in front of our televisions!" I screamed out in a Tourette's-like explosion, only then did I see the middle aged couple hiking with their dogs. Another thing I love about cycling is that you get to wear enough safety gear to actually be sort of incognito and you can put distance between you and your embarrassment fairly quickly!

Readin' Ridin' and Ruminatin'

What the heck happened to the week?! Last thing I remember I was watching it rain on Saturday morning and wondering if I was gonna get a dry ride in. I finally said "forget about it" at 1:30 P.M. I took a 2 hour ride (perfect traction!) and upon arriving back home the rain stopped. Oh well, it's all a blur from there, riding, reading, ruminating (even though I only have one stomach). The Andromeda Strain on A&E was was an interesting little diversion. How they managed to go from a semi-believable science/techno story to a really painful, bad comedy I'll never know.

Dickhead in the Wind!

Sometimes, I don't know why, I get out on the bike and it feels like CRAP! Everything is wrong, I feel like a fat toad who hasn't been on a bike in a year, the wind is like a hurricane in my face (no matter which direction I'm riding), and then, I start imagining that some bastard has screwed around with my seat height. These and a hundred other rancid thoughts start to pollute my stream of consciousness while I'm doing this thing I profess to love so much. So last night, as I fought my way out Placer Street swearing aloud at the wind, shaking my fist at people in cars whom I deemed to have passed me too close, I finally arrived at the turn-out to Rattlesnake and the trail to the top of the world. Ahh, good old dirt! I saw a familiar short, steep section ahead and thought, I will not gear down for this hill, I'm going to hammer it! I stood out of the saddle, made three strong strokes and something snapped. The rear wheel locked solid and I found myself in that oh so awkward position of belly laying on the stem of the handlebars, while my lips could have kissed the front tire.
I thought I had snapped the chain for sure. But no! Then I thought it was the rear deraileur, nope not that either. What it was was my own careless (brainless?) attention to detail. I had fixed a flat tire on the rear the day before and only finger tightened the axle quick release. The wheel popped out of the drop outs and locked against the chain stays. I quickly looked around to see if anybody saw it and then, magically, my whole attitude changed. Humility. The rest of the ride was much better!

The Race of Truth.

Sunday marked the beginning of a series of time-trials that the Redding Velo club is putting on. I have always loved racing the clock, so I loaded up my red bike and headed out to Millville to ride. The course was a 6.2 mi. down and back, with riders starting every 30 seconds. I flew like the wind on the way down and broke like the wind on the way back. But, all and all, I was pleased with my time of 18m. 04s. Yesterday's T.T. was the first in a series of four (one a month) through August. I was very impressed with how well the event was run and how nice the folks all were. There was everything from high dollar, purpose-built bikes, to tandems, to a full suspension mt. bike. (God, that hadda hurt!) I am definitely going to try to hit all four of these events and I encourage everyone to come on out and blow your cookies... I mean ride!

On Walden's Bike by Hawking

For years I have dreamed of being a naturalist writer in the spirit of a Henry David Thoreau, Annie Dillard or perhaps Joseph Wood Krutch. I would wax poetic on the simple, seemingly insignificant doings of such romantic things as, Water Skippers, Nesting Birds and Poison Oak plant development. But alas, I am a rider of bicycles, so I tend to flash through these "Universes in Miniature" and get set for the next "Intense" section of the ride. Hey wait a minute, some physicists speak of theoretical, sub-atomic particles dubbed Tachyons. These particles are said to be able to travel faster than the speed of light. Maybe I am in a universe of Tachyons while riding my bike. Information simple cannot be received, processed and sent fast enough to have any bearing in the physical world, as we know it. But somewhere deep inside me, it's all getting in.

Priorities

The weekend was full of matriarchal charm as the women in my life took center stage in the form of my daughter's 20th birthday and of course Mother's Day. Being the season of moderate temps, I simply hit the trail nice and early. Rousing no suspicion of fulfilling my own selfish needs in the form of 2 more epic bicycle rides and wearing the hats of "Good Dad", "Good Husband" and "Good Son", an art form that I have perfected through years of trial and miserable error. The worst of times was back in the 80's when an old buddy of mine, who was an icon of cycling in Shasta County would promise me, "an easy little 2 hour jaunt and you'll be home for lunch!" Then, for the nineteenth time, I found my self somewhere in the Manton area, hoisting my seventh draught beer and watching the sun set, along with any hopes I had of sleeping in my house that night. The bottom line is this, I enjoy cycling, I love my family!

Sittin' on Top o' the World

Last night about 5 P.M. I arrived at the "Top of The World" on my Cross-Bike having fairly flown up the "Rattlesnake" trail. Quality training rides and excellent nutrition really do pay off! There was a guy sitting up there when I arrived, he had ridden up before me and was just kickin' it enjoying the lovely weather and scenery . He was delighted with my bike. We had a nice chat about everything from full rigid bikes, to one-speeds, to 700c wheels off road. Then, one by one, three guys on expensive, full suspension bikes arrived, then a girl who jogged up there came puffing up. It was a regular hoot-nanny folks and by gaw, I am so proud to a Redding local!

The Lost Weekend

A whirlwind of a weekend, this last one was. Me dear old Mum turned 70 so there was a big party with lots of old friends from out of the area here. I surprised her with a real blast from the past in the form of our old, old friend "Hippie Charlie", from our L.A. days. Let me tell you friends, the 60's are still alive and kickin' albeit a wee tad gray! Old Char got going on subjects ranging from peyote cults to government mind -control plots until finally, I had to take him out for a little walk to the Sundial Bridge. Then as if by magic, in the light of the setting sun, friends began arriving one by one on their bicycles until Charlie finally yelled out, "Do you know every person who rides a bike in this town!?" We had not seen him in almost 35 years but it was just like old times again. He stayed Friday and Saturday night at the Motel 6 and "boogied on home" early Sunday morning. I got my weekend rides in, while he explored the area in his Prius.

Happy May Day!

The earliest May Day celebrations appeared in pre-Christian Europe, as in the Celtic celebration of Beltane, and the Walpurgis Night of the Germanic countries. Many pre-Christian indigenous celebrations were eventually banned or Christianized during the process of Christianization in Europe. As a result, a more secular version of the holiday continued to be observed in the schools and churches of Europe well into the 20th century. In this form, May Day may be best known for its tradition of dancing the Maypole and crowning of the Queen of the May. Today various Neopagan groups celebrate reconstructed (to varying degrees) versions of these customs on 1 May.

The day was a traditional summer holiday in many pre-Christian European pagan cultures. While February 1 was the first day of Spring, May 1 was the first day of summer; hence, the summer solstice on June 25 (now June 21) was Midsummer. In the Roman Catholic tradition, May is observed as Mary's month, and in these circles May Day is usually a celebration of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In this connection, in works of art, school skits, and so forth, Mary's head will often be adorned with flowers. Fading in popularity since the late 20th century is the giving of "May baskets," small baskets of sweets and/or flowers, usually left anonymously on neighbors' doorsteps.

Super C.X.

Last Saturday I took one of the best rides I've ever been on. I rode from the downtown area, over the Sundial Bridge, worked my way over to the North side river trail and took the steep, up and out section to Quartz Hill road, out to the Hornbeck trail. I rode the loop of the ditch trail and back the Hornbeck proper. Then I rode back in. The whole key to my wonderful experience was the fact that I was riding my 1990(?) Bianchi cross bike. That bike is by no means the best road bike nor is it the best single track bike, but it will smoke a full-on mt. bike on the road and it works great on off- road trails like the Hornbeck. I found perfect conditions out there, no mud and no dust. Just that beautiful hard pack with a hint of moisture from the little rain we got earlier in the week. I would love to run a road/dirt time trial someday and see if I could get others interested. Maybe a mini Paris Dakar rally for bicycles.

More Stuff!

We had a great "Bicycle Swap and Sell" on Sunday. The place was buzzing with people buying, swapping and trading, parts and complete bikes. I want to thank everyone who came and by all means, come on down for next one. Maybe some time this coming Fall.

My Best Thinking

I have often wondered, is possible to damage one's brain by engaging in anaerobic exercise for extended periods of time, (a.k.a. hammering your friggin' noggin off on a bicycle!)? I have noticed that after a morning long ride, I often spend the rest of the day in a sort slack-jawed stupor, mumbling incoherently, eating everything in sight, then sneaking off for a wee nap. When I get up, I take two Tylenols, make dinner and vegetate in front of the T.V. until early bedtime zonk-out comes.
I think I may be just a little too competitive out there when I'm riding with others or when I happen to see fresh meat... I mean another rider, up the road ahead of me. I made a pact with myself that this would be a "base building" year wherein I would spend quality time riding well with in my aerobic zone 90% of the time. But last Sunday I was up to my old tricks again, blasting off the front of the pack only to be buried (200 meters from the summit) by guys who look like they're made of beef jerky.
Now, armed with this knowledge, I plan on really paying close attention to the messages my body is trying to send to me. So, tomorrow night at the Lemurian kick off ride from Chain Gang, I plan on riding nice and easy on the group ride up Rattlesnake on my one-speed with Noel and Stewart to the Top-Of-The-World. Yeah, Right!

Captain Look Out rides Again!

You know, lately I've been getting a lot of mail regarding the whereabouts of one "Captain Look Out," the fictitious moniker of a once-powerful Mt. Bike rider here in Northern California. The problem with nailing down this semi-mythological man's being is that those who knew and rode with him are all either dead or missing large pieces of their reasoning power. I will not try to pretend that many years ago Mt. Bikers didn't believe that certain herbal concoctions were not only necessary but essential to performance enhancement.
Oh sure, I've caught fleeting glimpses of what might be "The Captain" through the years. Riding an ancient Gary Fisher bike, a beard to his knees, out there flailing away at the pedals, alternately screaming out curses and blessings to the oblivious passersby in their cars. Well, in honor of this once great icon of cycling, we are going to be holding our first annual Sell and Swap Bicycle Meet. We look forward to seeing you there and who knows, maybe "The Captain" will bless/curse us with his presence.

Life Cycle

I am alone, riding a trail that I have been on hundreds of times. Only the bikes have changed through decades of being out here. A certain amount of natural and man made influence can be seen. A large section of the trail fell into the creek in 1995, necessitating a new route up and around the slide. I've seen new houses go up, stealing into"my" trail areas. So far they are just little breaks in the tree line, high atop the surrounding ridges. For over 20 years now I've been riding "out west of town." I try never to forget how lucky I am to have these areas to ride my bikes in. They are spaces where my soul can soar and I can play out my alter ego existence as the next great, up and coming world champion, be it youth, veteran, master or senior.

Bicycle Swap Meet.

O.K.! It's official. We are going to hold the first annual Bicycle swap meet on April 27, 2008. That is Sunday, the day after the Lemurian bike race. We'll get going about Noon and go until it's over. Bring your trade-able, sell-able stuff and a folding table or ground cloth and let's swap and sell! Also, make a list of what you might be looking for (between now and then) because if you're like me, you'll get there and go blank. Hope to see you there!

"I am not a Communist!"

"But I do tend to be a bit Socialistic at times." I am hatching another plan involving bicycles, this one is a swap meet. You bring your boxes of crap and I bring mine. We swap and sell our crap. I leave with crap I can use and you get new crap too. It's amazing how much crap I've accumulated in the last 20+ years of crapling... I mean cycling.

Strange Dreams

My brain, recoils like a gun stock against a discharge of the words, Martin Luther King Jr. was shot on this day 40 years ago. My brain, is not able to wrap around and hold the reality of petrified wood. In my brain, God is a Walt Disney-like chap who created the earth and then buried and hid rocks and fossils to make me think the earth is much older than the bible tells me so. In my brain, a scheme is hatching wherein I go to O.J.'s five and dime and buy a bunch of small, hard rubber balls to sling shot at the Mo-Fo crow who sits outside my house each morning, cawing and croaking like a mad man in my early morning dream-sleep. Fuck it! I'm up!

Monkey Boy and the red-headed step child

So I made a complete fool of myself* by inviting a young whipper-snapper out to "MY HOUSE" aka Turtle Bay East CX course and challenging him to a four lap, impromptu cyclo-cross race. It would not have been so bad if I hadn't made all those smack-down comments throughout the day to him at work. Of course, it was warm yesterday but I truly believe that if I hadn't aspirated my own Power Gel Puke on the third lap, I would have finished better.
*Please disregard all previous references of my being "The Woody Allen of cycling", "Jimmy the bottle rocket", or any of the countless other derogatory monikers I have proclaimed of myself in earlier entries. This was "THE BIG ONE" folks.

A ride with Noelly Frejole and Brook

I have been noticing that Noel is rollin' out for Sunday rides just about the same time as the Gazzigli Boyz are on Sunday mornings. So I hooked up with he and Brook yesterday and we hit the Hornbeck recreation area. What a fun ride we took. Noel reminds me of a kind of Sir Edmund Hillary of cycling. He is incredibly strong and big! Brook is a bike handler extraordinaire. Incredible flair and style. We laughed our butts off and rode some superb trails. I took my Monohopper and hung in there fairly well. My quads started locking up a bit towards the end of the ride, when I would get up out of the saddle for climbing (one-speed). But all and all I had a great time and hope to do it again next Sunday. Come one come all. The more the merrier!

Freak-out!

1975, We were a motley crew of long haired, harebrained pranksters. We were rolling through downtown Reno Nevada (the"BIGGEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WORLD") in a 1960 V.W. bus. It was spring break and day 6 of a road trip that had taken us to a "vision quest" in the North West section of Nevada (the area is now used for the annual Burning Man festival.) Three of our party of seven were standing in the back of the bus with their heads and shoulders sticking out through the roof hatch of the bus yelling at the top of their lungs "Eureka.. We found it!!" Then they began tossing small handfuls of peyote buttons to the bewildered crowds of blue-haired, day-gamblers as they shuffled down the side walks toward their tour buses.

I had, up until this point, just been sitting in the back of the bus brooding and mumbling my general disdain for this whole affair and kept quipping little statements of dissension toward Matt the driver and hatcher of this silly scheme. Where upon the inevitable killer-bong made it's way back to me. In a fit of one-upmanship, I took the biggest hit of monster hash of my life and rose from my seat like a ghost from Marley dream. My smoking head was now sticking out of the top of the bus and I began screaming like a madman, "That's it! You've bought the whole pig... Hocks, Tripes and chitterlings!" "Now go roast the Bitch on your sacrificial fires you Mongrels!!!"

Smoke and particles of spittle continued to issue forth from my yowling yapper as my tirade escalated into a truly disgraceful oration, well beyond anything proportionate to the relatively prosaic situation into which our little band of hippidom had found itself. The crowd started looking on in fear and disgust when suddenly, to my horror, I realized that two of the crowd were my grandmother and grandfather Dixon. But worst of all they saw me! "Oh Charles!" leona pouted. "Isn't that JIMMY in that dirty old hippie wagon?" "JIMMY HONEY!" my papa sang out in a melodious, artificial voice. "Jesus Christ...We're BUSTED!!!" I yelled and dove into the back of the bus then buried myself in a mound of sleeping bags.

I never completely copped that entire story to my folks or why I was unable to look my Nana and Papa in the eye for years after the debacle.

Evenflow

Wednesday night ride at Turtle Bay East, smells of Chamomile and Ceonothus filled the swirling air, while fresh green grasses rolled along in lush, long waves. Lupine in bloom with purple flowers, yellow little ones, shimmering bright in rainbow-light, storm skies broken. Shiny oak leaves young and tender, buzzing in the high branches. My machine, smooth and quiet as I roll through the course, still looking for that perfect lap. Then , I think I put one together. At least , it was perfect for me.

Nothing means Anything!

I love to try to get down to the real nitty-gritty of the inner workings of peoples minds. My own included. I have a dear friend (we'll call him Cap'n) who is a self proclaimed Atheist. I have no problem with that as long as there is a well considered philosophy behind it. But through the years, catching glimpses of the inner workings of Cap'n's mind have been like trying to read wisps of smoke from ships on horizons afar*. The other day I was reading a sort of philosophy for dummies book and I came to Existentialism. There it was! Cap'n is a flippin' textbook Existentialist! I finally had him pinned down. I quickly contacted him and feigned a position of matter-o'-factness and asked if he had read any Nietzsche lately. He asked me "What the Fuck" I was talking about. "Come on Cap'n!" I said and started going down the list of existentialistic attributes his life espoused. "I don't know what you're talking about!" He demanded. "Dammit Cap'n, to say you don't believe in God and then have no philosophy to bring some "meaning" to life, is tantamount to a monkey sitting at a typewriter randomly pecking out The Lords Prayer. No doubt about it, I gotta find a new breakfast cereal!
*Paraphrased from Pink Floyd.

I give you, The 1987 MONOHOPPER!!!

The project started by stripping every piece off the frame and forks. I had Nick from Bikes Etc. shave the derailleur hanger and rack lugs off. Then he machined out the axle drop-outs. When he returned it to me, I prepped and painted the rear triangle, forks and select other parts with orange Rustoleum, rattle-can paint. We rebuilt the bottom bracket, head set, pedals, and hubs, then replaced the hollow axle the bike came with and installed a solid axle. Then Randy worked his magic on the wheels by first making the front wheel round(!) and then he dished and spaced the rear wheel to create a perfect chain-line with a new BMX style single speed free wheel (20t) and single Sugino chain ring (40t). We trimmed it out with blue cable housings and orange "Da Kine" grips.

Wednesday Night Ride

A beautiful, squally, gusty, balmy ride I did take upon me old Bianchi cross-bike and a better man returned from that ride than the s.o.b. who left his family and home in tatters only 90 minutes prior. Golly, what a difference a ride makes in my mid-week, frenetically charged, raging bull, caffeinated, mind fire. Bottom line, traction; perfect, temperature; perfect, course; clean and empty, bike; super fast. Family; recovering nicely.

Goathead 101

Amidst a large volume of conflicting theories, myths and folklore I, J.Fuzz Feely would like to put forth my hypothesis on the life and times of the dreaded scourge of cycling, the Goathead puncture vine. Right now, even as I write this article, five Gothic skater boys (they work surprisingly cheap!) are scouring the local area in search of sproutling Goathead vines that will become the curse of 2008. I will assemble a month by month specimen collection and build a diorama with the help of "Wild Bill" the homeless, cardboard wiz-dude. All will be faithfully filmed and edited by that guy, who used to be a regular guy and frequent contributor to the now defunct, alternative Redding paper, The Flying Penguin (defrocked?). With any luck the whole project should be completed in time for the Fall, local artist/scientist film festival at the down town Cascade Theater alternative, Carpet Mart At Night Club. Remember, we're not real scientists... We just conduct a lot of experiments with plants and chemicals!

Birth of the Mono-Hopper

Well it's finished and it's...spectacular!? My Phoenix project (up from the ashes) was completed last Saturday P.M. and ridden on Sunday. It is pretty sweet and a ton o' fun to ride. In many ways I kind of put the cart before the horse and ran into some unforeseen problems that I thought would kill the project for sure, but with the expert help of Randy, Noel and Nick at Bikes Ect., I am riding a relic of my early Mountain Bike days, with a funky new twist. If you don't have an old 80's Mt. Bike that you've retro fitted into a one-speed in your stable, by all means build one. Chances are you've got an old steel framer hanging in the shed that would be perfect for it. You've also got a group of Gurus right here in Redding who'll help you do it!

The Art of Ugly

It's weird, I am starting to like what I've done with my old Rockhopper. At first I couldn't seem to step back and see the whole picture. But now, that it's mocked-up and rolling, it looks pretty good. I'm getting some positive feedback from others and I guess it's gonna be just fine!
Basically what we are really dealing with here is this. A little boy (Me) is motivated by fear (Dad) and thinks that the eye of a confirmed mechanical master is going to take one look at the monstrosity and laugh his all-knowing-ass off when he sees it. The very same ass that tried to grind and beat that sweet little bike into the ground. Hmmm!

Ugliness

Speaking of Plan Nine From Outer Space, I had an opportunity to get acquainted with my inner Ed Wood Jr. this week. It seems that I (like Ed) am also a hopeless, corner-cutting, penny-pinching hack, who is content with a sort of "wham-bam-slap and go" kind of work ethic. The result of which has created what may be (arguably) the world's-worst, "Custom" bicycle ever.
The combination of a brain aglow with this damned viral crud everyone is spreading around and my innate Ed Wood nature afforded me numerous opportunities to step outside of myself and watch my sorry ass at work. (layer upon layer of consciousness!) There was also a kind of Billy Bob Thornton, Bad Santa-like dynamic to it. Bottom line, UGLY! OUCH!!

Plan 9 from Planet Earth

I bought my Specialized Rock Hopper from the old Chain Gang, on Park Marina, in the Spring of 1987. I loved the chunky, S.I.S./Index 6-speed shifting and the super powerful, Shimano U-Brake.
The bike also featured the "computer designed" Biopace chainrings. I rode that Rockhopper all over the north state. I even raced it in the Norba sport division, cross country race in Mammoth. Then in 1991, I purchased a Specialized Stump Jumper Comp and the old Rockhopper became my loaner bike. Eventually my Dad took full time procession of it. The bike went back and forth between he and my brother. Both men espouse a sort of John Deere tractor mentality when it comes to machines. If it don't shift... stomp the hell out of it!
Well I reacquired the old Rochhopper recently and my God, she is much the worse for wear! I cannot believe that the old girl was still ridable. Virtually every moving part was either worn out or damaged. I planned on doing a restoration but when I found the cracked rear drop out I changed my plan. With the help of Nick (welder/fabricator) from bikes Etc. I am making it a dedicated one speed. Stay tuned for photos.

Low Tech

I went out for a quick little, hour-long ride (I thought the rain was supposed to hold off 'till noon!) during which I could not help but think about the boys at this year's Tour of California, stage four. On Thursday they set off on the longest stage of this year's Tour, 135 miles from Seaside down the coast to San Luis Obispo in absolutely abominable conditions. Strong winds, rain and 45 degree temps made the going extra miserable. They were out there for 7 hours and averaged only 18 m.p.h. , almost unheard of for the Pro's.
As I made my way to Keswick dam I encounted some heavy showers, but the key to my relative comfort was the fact that my bike has fenders and mud flaps. So the leeward side o' me (aarr, I had me directions fuddled up!) stayed quite dry. Which started my thinking about how light fenders could be made (from carbon fiber) and why in the world don't the Pro teams have purpose built "Rain Bikes". They use special bikes for time-trial and mountain stages, why not Storm bikes?

I saw a picture of me...

Someone took a picture of me standing near the finish line of the Boom Town CX Mudfest. It is readily apparent that the man in the photo is in serious pain. The pain that I felt at that moment was not really due to the pulled calf muscle that I sustained, but had more to do with the absolute ragged edge of survival that competitive cycling demands. And By Gum, if'n you aint pukin' when you hit that finish line, well you didn't give 'er yer all!
Which brings me to my point in question. How the Hell do those Pro riders look so good immediately after a long 1000 meter sprint, after a four hour freakin' mountain stage!? I've heard that in big league baseball if a batter is hit by a pitch he will never touch or rub the area hit, simply because of some unwritten macho-psychotic tradition. Rarely will you see a pro rider show any pain as the result of his effort. I've noticed that they also don't seem to breath very hard.
What is this strange game we play wherein we know, before we start, that it's gonna hurt, even if we don't get injured. And why does it keep us coming back for more?

Return of the two-headed Monster?

The annual Shasta Lemurian race is not that far away and rumors of a green, two-headed monster, Tandem team are starting to circulate. Here is what I've heard. Michael Ball, of Rock Racing, was interested in entering Tyler Hamilton and Mario Ciopolini as a tandem team in this years Lemurian. But, due to late developing commitments, has had to bail, leaving it up to Shasta county's equivalent team, Randy and Jimbo to fill in for them. It is estimated that the money that Michael will save in this move will be enough to pay for one of the 6, black, Cadillac Escalades that they use as team support vehicles.

Tank Slapper

Fixed gear bicycles are dangerous. They incorperate a direct drive system that does not allow the rider to coast. When the wheels are turning, the pedals are spinning. These bikes come in a wide variety of interpretation. From the retro-fixed old schwinn clunker to the high end modern track-bike ($20,000). Many of them are so stripped of components ie; derailuers, brakes, cables levers, that control of them can become a real issue. I had the priviledge of "being along for the ride" last year, on a Fixie that (unbeknownst to me) had picked up a goathead sticker in it's rear tire. I was moving along at a good clip on a slightly downhill section of road, entering a right hand curve.
Suddenly, without any warning what so ever, I felt the rear of the bike try to go straight while the rest of the bike was turning right. My rear tire was going down fast (flat). The pedals kept churning away as the bike squished and squirmed beneath me. Then in a terrifiing split second known to motorcycle road-racers as a "tank-slapper", I felt the the rear tire fold under the rim and my handle bars crossed up. I somehow, miraculously saved it and reached ever so gingerly for the tiny little front brake lever that I had decided might be prudent to run on the bike (not included). Ever so carefully I applied the brake and thankfully came to a stop by the side of the road.
My heart was beating about 200 times a minute. Then I realized It was OK to start breathing again. Later I was relating the story to a buddy of mine who lives and rides fixies in Arcada. He just shook his head and said, "Jim, the reason you didn't go down is because fixed gears are like gyroscopes Man! You're just lucky you didn't kill yourself with that damned brake!"
What ever Peter.

Weird Dreams

I stood there in the street, in the dark of a 7 A.M. winter's morn, shrugged my shoulders, unlocked the car door and headed to work. It was a Monday, January the second. The holidays were now just a vague blur of strange places, blinding headlights, bad food, excessive drink, conversations held at levels approaching screaming and images of children's faces, pouting their disappointment, smeared with chocolate and turkey grease, their hair matted with candy canes and mashed potatoes, looking at me with their teary eyes, trying to communicate, "It's not enough, Daddy! It's not enough!"

"Sometimes I want to pull my brain stem out!" My car radio blasted out one of my favorite Henry Rollins songs. Who's life am I living? A woman's voice is haunting me. "Maybe we should just get burgers for dinner, Honey!" I scream aloud, Tourette's style, "Burgers?! I've got your burgers right freakin' here!" I am morphing into a strange cross between Jack Nicholson in The Shining and Chris Farley as Matt Foley, motivational speaker.

"Let the shovel do the work!" The red-faced know-it-all said and flashed his tiny corn teeth at me, then went back into the house. "I've got your shovel right here, pal!" I said, then spinning like a dervish, I released it right into and through the bastard's front window. I casually picked up my jacket and started walking. I will walk until I reach the ocean and then I will just keep on walking. Somewhere around day 33 I finally fell to the ground.

Herman

The wizened old man (actually only 58) stood before me gasping for breath, his emphyzemic lungs barely keepin the lights on. He had made the daily, arduous trek from his house (a block away) to the liquor store where I worked as a clerk when I was a wee lad of 28. He steadied himself, hauled in one last feeble breath, licked his lips and pronounced the words,"Pall Mall Reds and a bottle o' Hiram." Then he placed both hands on the counter and resumed the monumental task of getting oxygen and staying upright, like a mountain climber in the 8,000 meter death zone leaning on his ice axe. "I'm sorry Herman, we're still out of Pall Malls!" I said reaching for the whisky. Herman then appeared to crumble and he stammered out the pathetic reproach, "Am I gonna have to take my business elsewhere?" I placed the bottle in front of him then offered him a choice of Luckie Strikes, Camels or Phylip Morris Commanders all filterless cigarettes. The poor old sot just stood there gasping like a fish out of water, looking at me like I was reason for all his pain and suffering, then he lowered his gaze and said, "Give me the Commanders." We both new he couldn't make it to the Safeway a further 3 blocks away and we both knew how screwed he really was. He died in his sleep as his house burned, a few months later.

Ash Wednesday

A series of semi miraculous happenings befell me yesterday, but I suppose that may have to do with a magic mind and an easily entertained heart. My old friend Ken Hood dropped in to say howdy. Then I saw Randy Thompson and his beautiful new BMW motorcycle. Then I found a bicycle tire that is no longer available, way back in the deepest recesses of Bikes Etc.'s tire room. It is the exact tire that I have on the front of my latest CX project. I was saddened to hear that although I could get the same tire brand new, it would only be available in a black wall. But alas! There it was, a matching gum wall, now I'm stylin' !!

Finally, I went to Mass with my Father-in-Law and we had a nice time. Although I do not concieve of myself as a particularly sinful person, perhaps no more than any ordinary man, I was touched and moved by the angelic antiphonic singing, so beautiful and soothing that I had to really fight back some serious eye watering. It was special.

Embrace Your Inner Basket Case.

It's one thing to be mad as a Hatter, quite another to be blind to it while everyone around you sees it. Now those of you who have read any of these filterlings know that I am a huge proponent of the REINVENT YOURSELF axiom. Take my man Will Shatner. The, "Old Will" just wasn't working anymore. So being the true genius that he is, he embraces his fat, bloated self and adopts the character of a 60 something lawyer. That's GOLD BABY! So remember, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Socrates

Meat the Puppets

She's a large woman who walks about 10 to 15 feet behind her husband(?) and her big yapper is always working. I have seen them walking the streets of Redding for at least 10 years. Up until rescently I've only caught their act from the windshield of my car as I drive to and from work. But the other day the little circus rolled right up to Carpet Mart's parking lot (my job) and within one minute of watching and listening to them the missing pieces (actually I knew it all along) fell into place and the whole ugly puzzle was complete. She is running an unrelenting tirade/assault on the man's character in what she judges to be his complete ineptness and general, utter failure as such. All the while the little man just ambles along in a kind of permanent cringing posture, like a taunted boy being shot with a pea shooter over and over.

Now I'm not sure what kind of archtypal/metaphor these two are the unwitting, puppet-show actors of but I will say this: watching their dynamic reminds me that at some level we all subscribe to the lables others put on us, as well as the ones we put on ourselves. The trick is to reinvent ourselves when things aren't working and regularly reviewing where we are honestly coming from. I just hope that some day that little man spins on his heels and says to her, "You know what Bee-auch! You get on the point and let me draft offa you for awhile!"

Killed me a Bar, when I was only three.

I swear! Sometimes I feel like I was born on a mountain top, Tennessee. The results of the Record Searchlight's "Best of the North State" are in. And a better barometer of the area's demographic would be hard to find. Chrikie! I am shocked...no, not really. This place is a time warp my friends. A place where real life Davy Crocketts and John Denvers still not only exist, but flourish and thrive. Best sandwich...SUBWAY! Best coffee...Starbucks! But the best, Best seafood...RED FARGIN' LOBSTER!!! I'm done!

It was 30 Years Ago Today!

January 1978, I am the last one left here at the at experimental living situation here in Dairyville, Cal. A commune known as The Orange Toad. Mathew scrambled his brains in a motorcycle crash high on 'Shrooms, Michael is getting really weird on a new drug called Crank (he has left for Sac.), Bart has moved to Oregon to live at an Ashram with a guru named Bhaghan Sri Rashneesh and I am here in the paper thin walled shack, burning furniture and boiling seed corn in stove ashes to make HOMINY! If I can get Franks old Schwinn Varsity bicycle rollin', I will load up my back pack, toss a match into the middle of this flea bitten hut, cut the goat loose and head to Redding.

Another Bicycle, A new flag.

Another old bike found me this week. A 1988(?) Bianchi Axis. Nice Tange steel frame with cantilever brakes, 700c wheels; Mavic hoops, Specialized hubs, Wheelsmith spokes. Suntour dérailleurs, 7 speed freewheel, shifters are bar top mounted. She's cleaning up nicely and with the bottom bracket overhauled (thanks randy!) and a new chain and some cables we'll be rollin' some cross terrain!
After a year of conspicuous absence, a brand new flag has been hoisted to the top of the USA gas station flag pole on E. Cypress. The absence of the flag has impacted me not in a patriotic way so much as in an orientational sense. You see I depend on it as my personal wind guage. And a fine, brightly colored one she is!

L.A. Velodrome. Jan. 17, 2008

Feels like Community.

So that's it for cyclocross this season. Wait a minute---That's it!? So many wonderful people, so many stories, Such a good BBQ. Wow! Is it November yet? Thank You Brian, Noel, Randy, Nick, All the Ladies and all the Gentlemen who make these CX's so special. So local. So much fun! P.S. Turtle Bay East rocks! We should try to get it established as the Shasta race series home track. And don't be surprised if some of us continue to show up out there for informal, "Out-Law" events!

A strong wind is freshenin' outta t' North!

I am getting ready to fly to L.A. tomorrow with my Boss. We going to attend a floor covering convention (OBOY!) and then we will mill around Disneyland awhile. Chrikie, two old farts skulking around kiddie land, wonder how they'll profile us! The good news is that on Friday we are going to go over to the L.A. Velodrome to watch abit of track racing, UCI World's Cup. 35 countries will be represented there. Then it's home on Saturday morning. Cyclo Cross Sunday is up in the air for me as I seem to have residual pain from a calf muscle pull I sustained at the last race. We'll see.

YouTube - Ferrari F355 Kreissieg F1 Sound Exhaust

YouTube - Ferrari F355 Kreissieg F1 Sound Exhaust
This is one of Italy's most beautiful voices!

Who's counting?

It was the late eighties, I was in my mid-thirties, on a cold night in the low forties. I was dressed to the nines!

A game of Fox and Hound

I joined the Gazzigli group for a beautiful Sunday ride yesterday. I was on my Redline 925, one speed with a freewheel. It's a 34x18 gear, so it's a real spinner! I got off the front immediately going up the Gold St. hill to St. Joesph's then out Placer St. when I suddenly realized, hey this ain't a gad dern'd cyclo-cross race! But then, since I knew where they were going, (the gate, out on Iron Mt.) I decided that since I was riding the CX tires why not cross country over hill and dale and see if I can rejoin them out there . So I spun and tucked and spun and tucked and I worked my way out to the Keswick boat ramp. The Redding Marathon was in full progress so I saw many runners pounding and limping their way along. I stopped to see the bicycles coming up the road behind me so I waved adieu to them, then dropped down to the Rail Trail below and took the Dirt Shunt over to Keswick Dam. Then it was a simple roll in on the River Trail. Along the way I saw the broken and twisted bodies of runners at their sport and I thought to myself, Thank God I'm Cyclin' Boy!

Where are you coming from?

I mean, what is your personal agenda? What ghost is running your machine? I'm not talking about how you portray yourself to society, I'm talking about the underpinnings of your psyche, man! Now I'm not advocating an assault upon your mind with the kind of high powered nuclear devices that my colleagues and I (see; Merry Pranksters) so casually tossed on our tongues like so many Tic Tacs back in the '70's. But I will say this, when the detonations were complete and nothing but a mushroom cloud (tinged purple with oxides of atmospheric nitrogen) towered 50,000 feet high into the sky, we just sat there at ground zero (on white sands that had been fused into glass) and felt as if a gigantic chalkboard had been wiped clean of volumes of internalized data that had never been seriously questioned before. Then a fresh stick of chalk was handed to each of us and we were told to write our own stories, to choose the books we read wisely, to listen with the heart and to Know Thyself !

Happy Thanksgiving O Canada! (previously lost )

I am not interested in producing some idealistically embellished recap of the years events or recording my loved one's doings. Suffice it to say that we are all still here plugging away, at least semi conscious of our good fortune here in the great crap shoot of the universe.

I am extremely thankful for the hours of of free time that living in such close proximity to my job affords me. The thought of spending 2 or 3 hours a day just to get to and from work is never far from my mind as I make my 6 to 10 minute jaunt to work. Instead I spend my mornings musing over little thoughts and ideas, toying with subjects ranging from physics to philosophy to food. I hold court on issues with a jury of my own emotions, studying thoughts in the palm of my mind, holding them up to strong light, subjecting them to examination with powerful lenses, dissecting with utmost care their grainy, subconscious constituents.

I leisurely brew a pint of tea while perusing the limitless vocabularic buffet searching for choice morsels to add to my journalistic salads. Here a bit of spice, here a splash of colour. Cracking open the dictionary or thesaurus like some literary monk in a cloistered cell with his bibles, lounging on my pallet as the smell of morning dews waft through my open window. The unobtrusive OM of wheels on the interstate is shattered by the 7 a.m. flyby of a flock of local Canadian geese only 20 feet above our house.

Yes, I am truly thankful that my station in life (for now) does not necessitate daily runs (crawls?) down the eight lane, meat grinder-conveyor belt, freeways that most of my fellow American, workaday-stiffs must. And a very merry stiffmust to you!

Feels like I'm steppin' into the Twilight Zone!

Even at the tender young age of 15, I suspected that I was the unwilling participant in some kind of sociogenetic experiment. Of course, I must try to keep things in perspective. My ridiculous decision to "blow the cover" of one of "Them" (back in the days of my employment at Raley's) nearly netted me a net over my head and a stay at the Shasta County rubber room hotel. How was I to know that the thinly disguised "Agent" was actually a "Secret Shopper" as Raley's likes to call them, who was simply trying to catch me doing something right so that they could give me a customer service award. ARRGH!

New twist on an old game

My idea goes like this. I would like to become the biggest loser on Jeopardy EVER! But to pull it off I would need the presence of a stage actor, the timing of a comedian, and the mind of a chess champion. I'll need to be first to buzz in every time. My answers will need to be (at least) plausible and my reaction to the pronouncement of INCORRECT, believable. I reckon that by the end of the Double Jeopardy round I can easily dig myself into a $30,000 hole. What the Hell! I've seen contestants who were not invited back to Final Jeopardy for being a measly $200 in debt. I have been practicing a sort off Bizzaro World version of Jeopardy at home wherein I try to come up with the nearest solutions, without actually being right. Example; Also known as the Fab Four, this rock and roll band swept the nation in 1964 with the help of the Ed Sullivan Show. BANG, I hit the buzzer and scream,"Who were the Rolling Stones!" WRONG! "DOH! (also something I am considering.) When I sense that the studio is starting to suspect that I am up to something, I'll get all sincere and start proffering up my solutions with the ever popular, "What is blah, blah, blah... ALEX! Surely a guy who is on a first name basis with Big Al has to be sincere.

Communal Mud Bath

Once again I would like to thank all the wonderful people who made the first annual, "Bicycle Mud Bath" such a success. My skin is refreshed by the mineral emollients found only in the native soils of Shasta Lake (Summit City) and after a good soaking in a wash tub, my clothes all washed out good as new. Funny thing though, this morning upon wheeling my trusty Stumpjumper to the shed (after drying over night in my house) I noticed a scraping sound emanating from both front and rear wheel axles. I stood the bike up on it's rear wheel and discovered that the headset also has a gritty, kind o' scratchy feel to it. I spun the cranks... same deal! What is up here! Why is my bike making such strange sounds? I guess I need to buy a new bicycle!

Big Ben

Imagine if you will, the plight of my buddy Ben Johnson. Ben is a big man! No really, I mean big! Ben weighs 525 lbs. He played high school football at 340 in Oakland and they went all state in the Fall of '79. Ben won a scholarship to a minor college to play but he soon realized that though he was big and strong, he was not very fast or quick. He got beat by little (260lbs.) guys all the time. By the time Ben hit 30 years old he was washed up and weighed 400 lbs. He started hanging out at his favorite BBQ joint on a very regular basis. One day the owner of the business said, "Ben you here alla time!" "You ought just buy my place, that way you can eat all you want and make a livin'!" Ben took over the business and for awhile he did real well. But after about four years the numbers started falling. His book keeper was puzzled and showed him the balance sheets. "Ben, according to this inventory sheet we are losing about a ton of meat a year, that's over 5 lbs. a day!" "I think that meat company's rippin' you off!" she scowled. But only Ben knew the truth about the missing meat. Now age 40 and 500 lbs, he happened to see a contest on T.V. that he knew he could win, hot dog eating. So he took his meager savings and flew to the Nathan's World Championships. He paid the entry fees and lined up with the others. The gun fired and they were off. Ben tucked into a mountain o' dogs and then another. At 31 down, he mis-swallowed and refunded all his hard work... automatic disqualification! He got owned by an Asian boy who stripped like a boxer and ate like a robot.

It's really quite simple captain...

"Please tell me how many lights you see." " I see three!" Picard Say's with a beautiful roll of the R. "Wrong!" " There are four lights!" Whoops, did I just say that out loud? "They're here Honey!" "Who are, THEY?" I yell, my tongue like Play Dough. "Your tickets to the L.A. Velodrome." Holy mackerel Catfish, we're going to the World's Cup Jan. 18Th!!!

Strange encounter with an ancient cougar!

My little Eve ( mother of our teenager/adults...teendults?) and I were at Safeway the other day when we had one of those rare, chance encounters with that remarkable creature known as the human cougar. You know, the 40 + woman who is still operating at a purely sexual level who's only real objective is to get in the check out with the "Hot" guy who'll play along with her (who's actually younger than her son!). YIKES! We had the privilege of observing an extremely rare, Octogenarian version of the cougar. Replete with the garish, fire engine red dyed hair, the orange rouged cheeks, twin penciled-on eyebrows that resembled a pair of St Louis, Gateway arches and of course the perfunctory "Bit o' cleavage" low cut top. To consummate the package, she was either completely 'toons or (more likely) senile. For you see, when I discreetly signaled Eve's attention to the phenomenal-freak show-twleve'o'clock-in front of the deli case, she spun on her heels and glowered at us, then mumbled something foul. We both responded with beaming smiles and hearty waves to which she then grabbed an innocent, woman by-standers arm and began pointing us out and telling the bewildered lady God knows what about the menace that was us! As we left the store still smiling, I casually mentioned to Eve. Honey, this is why we live in the North State. The wildlife and closeness to nature is truly second to none!

Don't forget to eat your Black Eyed Peas!

A wonderful New Year's tradition 'round yere... as well as millions of other California/Okie homesteads is a big ol' messa Black Eyed Peas! I buy the fresh one's at Raley's or Safeway. Rinse them very well, then blanche them in boiling water. Now you have a wonderful start to a virtually limitless number of healthy dishes. Ma allus cooked 'em up with a few scraps o' white bacon, but se'ens how I went Kosher back in the 70's (Damn those Hassidic Hippies!) I caint eat 'em that aways enna more. Happy New Year!!! Be Safe! Peace out, Shalom!

More Deep Thoughts

I think it would be a really good idea to sentence convicts to breaking large rocks into usable gravels and landscape size pieces, just like in the old days! What could possibly happen by putting nine pound hammers and softball size pieces of granite in murderers' hands?

The Hippo sings tonight!

So by now y'all have heard about the dang old hippopotamus communication system. What's that, you say it's news to you? Well check this out! Hippos make sounds in both air and under water, and, with their heads in an amphibious position (eyes and nostril above the water but mouth and throat below), are able to transmit sounds in both media simultaneously. The whale, as we all know, is a mammal. Mammals (as a whole) did not evolve in water. At one time or another the ancestors of the whale lived on land, probably much like the dang ol' hippo. Give it a couple o' 10 million years and who knows where ol' hippo gonna be. I'm thinkin' Planet of the Hippos?

Happy New Year 1987

I got my first "real" Mt. bike in 1986 for my birthday. A beautiful Skyway Sherpa Scout. I rode it with the Gang (chain that is) on many a Klickapudi, Boulder Creek and South Fork mile. As the year grew long, someone asked if I was gonna ride the New Year's Day, "Eye Opener" with John Stein. I had not heard of it so I got the details. Crack o' dawn, Jones Valley boat ramp, rain, sleet, snow... we ride. I shook my head in disbelief as I arrived at the parking lot in the pitch black night of that 6:30 A.M., January First hang over. I had only slept about 3 hours. A small snow was falling. I had been duped! I imagined them all snug and warm in their beds, laughing their asses off at me. I stood there blowing smoke rings, hopping around in a futile attempt to get warm when suddenly, I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. It was Mike McHenry. He jumped out of his bus and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Happy New Year!" Soon another vehicle arrived, then another. Then Donnie Ferguson arrived, on his bicycle, having ridden in from Central Valley. Within 15 Min's. the parking lot was cluttered with cars and bikes and lots of people. Around 7 A.M. John gave a little welcome speech to approximately 30 riders and then we were off on the barely discernible, but lightening, trail. What happy memories!

Blown like Hindenburg.

Chrikee! I got home after CX yesterday and was like some kind of zombie death camp ghost. I really wonder what those A-Class studs feel like later in the day. I felt like all I could do was sit there slack jawed, staring at nothing, like I could not uncross my eyes. As a survivor of a life style that was on par with that of Ozzy Osbourne's (15 years ago) I honestly can say that if I had known that physical exertion could induce these kind of sensations... I'd a probably been one fit dope fiend! What the Hell is Randy putting in my Garden Burgers?

I've gotta have more Hominy!

After the barrage of comments on Meat Eating Robot's article about hominy----wait a minute, it wasn't all about hominy, oh well irrespective of that, I can't help but feel that we could all use a little more hominy "Corn-sideration", sorry Phil! (God I love compound sentences!) From recipes to bad puns (hominy roads must a man walk down...) Hominy, that rich source of moderately complex carbohydrate, deserves a place in our beloved game of Cyclo-Cross, right along side the venerated Cow Bell. Perhaps, someday, throngs of hyper enthusiastic, cow bell ringing CX aficionados will simultaneously shower their beloved gladiators with hominy as they pass by and the heads of those who ascend to the lofty podiums will be festooned not with wreathes of Laurels but with rings of hominy!

Solstice Cross A.K.A. Cyclo-Solstice

I am here to tell y'all about the wonder and joy that is known as Turtle Bay East. You may think you've been there and done that but if you have not ridden it since last week end you are in for a big surprise! There is a new geo/aquatic feature there, a bloody LAKE! I hit that baby at top speed, hydro planed out about 15 feet and sank to the axles. Which made the rest of my hour practice out there last night around 4 P.M. extra challenging. But by Gaw, my thermos fulla Chai/Rice Dream/Honey so hot it'll singe your tonsils was Fine!

Fish out of water

So tonight we are going to Cattlemen's steakhouse for the company Christmas dinner. My only "good" clothes are articles of cycle gear. If you're also there tonight, be on the look out for a guy in a hot pink and charcoal Lycra skin suit. I may wear my bullet helmet to complete the ensemble. Does Cattlemen's have much of a vegan menu?

The Running of the Bulls

So I Re-conned the Enterprise CX area and am definitely not taking my little city/cross bike, one speeder. I want gears and grouser tires. I want rain and mud. I want a driving wind that'll scare the well diggers of acidosia. I do not wish to be owned for Christmas. I will drink off my magic potion and transform into that troglodytic aberration I call Hardwick and hammer me noggin' off. Coincidently, the preceding paragraph can be sung to the tune of "Bulls on Parade" by Rage Against The Machine.

The Yaqui Soldiers are coming!

Picture yourself with a Southern fried turkey, with Hamburger gravy and kidney steak pie! Actually Sir, we're hoping you may offer something for the Kosher Vegan here. Imagine a web blog so chock fulla meaty richness, yet is actually digestible. A blog that is nourishing and enlightening. One that doesn't try to run the show, one that let's you get off the pony when your brain's butt gets sore. You mean to tell me those soldiers are powered by beans and rice? That's exactly what "we" are saying Mr. Seaweed and in the future "we" trust that such a travesty will not occur again! Now return to your post and resume your sun staring.

Thursday Night Cross

I was back at Turtle Bay East last night (afternoon) for another gorgeous session of CX practise. Hard to believe but on the last of my six laps , I got a flat. It was the first time I've flatted there this year. Let me rephrase that. It is the first time my slime tubes could not heal themselves adequately to enable me to continue riding. I have at least 400 goathead stingers in my tires. I just leave them alone, don't pull 'em, and the slime takes care of the rest. I'll try the old pump it up to 60 psi and bounce the wheel like a basketball trick. We'll see! Crikee! There was a little hawk down there last night that I just kept flushing out of the trees over and over. I'd see him on the north end and then on the south end, over and over. Cool!

Don't barf into the wind!

So I talked Randy at Bikes Etc. into racing his beautiful CoMotion tandem bike at the Anderson Park cyclocross. We set the bike up Friday night, took a one mile road ride on it Saturday and raced it on Sunday. I am amazed at how nice our barrier crossings were and how well we worked together. Randy was killing me in the sections that we decided to just run and he told me to chill a bit during parts of the ride. All and all I can see how with some work a tandem team could really do quite well. Just be sure that the captain doesn't barf while you're at speed!

Smashing, Bashing and Smooth

So here I am, one race into the new cyclo-cross season and my volumes of rich, sighing commentary are but wistful fragments of incomplete thoughts and ill conceived false starts. I will share only a very brief observation from Race 1, Elite class. Steve Tam is a flippin' Maestro at this game! I sat and watched him come through the rocky section down by the river (with the annoying little run up) and all I can say is Smooth Baby! Smooth! Compared to me out there, like some kind of Cave Man clubbing, clawing and grunting out there.