Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I'm no Weatherman but...

I don't think they should ever forecast a 0% chance of rain.

Ever.

This insight came to me this morning, as I was about to leave for work. I had finished my shower and walked into the other room to continue my beauty regimen (oh yeah). It sounded like my shower spontaneously came back on, but it was really the sudden deluge outside.

Great, I thought, the Taco Ride is toast.



I didn't think it was supposed to rain, so I pulled up Weather.com. They said there was a 0% chance of rain, which was as a matter of fact 100% wrong.

Don't you think there should be a minimum of at least 5% chance rain to account for the i-dunno factor?

This uncertainty principal is depicted here by the Underpants Gnomes of South Park



(sometimes its odd the things you talk about after a Taco Ride)

Speaking of Gnomes...Gnomefest is quickly approaching. It looks like a pretty good contingent of Iowa freaks will be headed north to the Land of Delicious Cheese (you might call it Wisconsin) to camp, ride, party, ride, party and repeat over a two day hippie dippy lovefest (not like-that, ya pervert).

I believe veteran of last year Billy "the stolen" Gnome will be making another run. Last time he had a bit of a rough go, so hopefully things work out better for him this time around.



I hear Gnomefest is a "singlespeed celebration" meaning if you bring a geared bike it might have something, like a peddle or a grip or a wheel, go temporarily missing overnight as Gnomes do not like gears (or gnears) at their Fest.

It is not wise to anger the Gnomes.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I took that Boom Boom Pow

Funny how you come to think you're bullet proof on your home trail.

I was showing Nick my old stomping ground at Easter, including one of the downhill runs where you can get a little air off of some embedded roots in the trail. Sounds innocent enough...
_____________________________________________________________

I was going fast,

caught some good air...just like I said I would,

landed a little crooked,

felt the front tire flex....then pop of the rim,

Nothing to do now but hit the ground...hard.

The ground didn't move (funny that) but I bounced, rolled and skidded to a stop.

My water bottle flew 10 feet past me down the trail.

It hurt my:

hip,
shoulder,
knee
(in rank order of ouchiness)

Inertia is stupid.

My helmet that was only slightly cracked is now...

C-r*A~c+K^e;D.

It rang my bell.

Ding, ding, time to come in from recess. What's a matter Brian? "Oh, Ms. Whatsyername, I seem to have lost my mittens." "My mom said not to lose them". "Can you help me find my mittens?" "I have to be in when the street lights come on."

My mojo, Fez, said he was "sawright", which was nice for him.

I thought about keeping it my little secret from wife und kids, but ultimately knew my hobble would betray me.

I fessed up, showed her my shoulder which is missing some epidermis. She said, "and this is fun?"

She's used that line before, so I had a witty retort ready. I said,

"No."

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Fez and the Purple Unit

Rigid single speed mountain biking is a subculture of a subculture. I mean, mountain biking itself is off the beaten path (by definition) but singlespeeding leaves any remaining path and dives headlong into the underbrush. You're damn-near Rambo. You and one cog against the cold world and its backward hillbilly police force.



"Nothing is over! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war! You asked me I didn't ask you!

It’s an enclave, a brother(and sister)hood who seek a return to the minimalistic approach of tires on the ground, grips in the hand and a solitary gear v the wild. The burning in your legs and lungs, along with the throbbing in your hands and shoulders is your tuition to the eldest of skools.

My entry into this not-so secret society comes in the form of this beauty. A Kona Unit 2-9. I built her up custom with a White Brothers Rock Solid carbon fork, Easton carbon riser bars, Bontrager Duster Rims set up tubeless with Panaracer Rampage 2.35 tires. Thomson post and stem, Avid BB 7 brakes, Bontrager Race Lite 32t crankset and a Surly 18t cog. You can't tell from the picture but yes its even blinged with a PURPLE KMC chain. Oh yeah.



A couple of quick clarifications before we proceed:

1.No, a purple bike is not girly. Purple is the color of kings, of Gods, of the artist known, then formerly known, the re-known as Prince…..ok, forget that last one. Hey, what color is the medal they give to wounded soldiers?



I rest my case.

2.No, that is not a stuffed animal. It is a Mojo, a commonly used trail guide and karma protector of mountain bikers everywhere. Every Mojo is unique but this one, I feel, is exemplary. His name is Fez and he is both Co-Pilot and Cosmic Advisor. Our dynamic duo began when I noted that McDonalds Happy Meals were coming with Beenie Baby toys. I had one in particular in mind so off we went to Mickey D's. I asked the pimpley young man at the counter if I could "choose my toy." He had a puzzled looked but ultimately confirmed I could pick from their roster of plushness. Eagerly I said "I'll take Grimace." He's a fat, purple blob that likes cheeseburgers too much, it just seemed appropriate. Imagine my dismay when moments later he said, "We're out of the Grimace." Seeing my disappointment another lady behind the counter quickly said, "We have a purple monkey." After an extraordinarily brief comtemplation I said, "I'll take 'em" and our Butch and Sundance partnership was formed. In our few rides together I will check in with Fez periodically.



“Hey Fez, How ya doin’ down there?”
“Sawright” is all he ever says.

So far, he’s been right, it has been “sawright” but I am waiting for the day he answers, “Uh, not-so-gude”. In that event, we will stop immediately to rest and reassess. A canary in the coalmine is he.

3.Yes, technically it is my purple unit and it is a 9er. Ok ladies, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

4.Yes, if you ask me and Fez nicely chances are good that you can touch my monkey.

I have exactly 9 rides on the Grape Ape for which to contemplate this new uno gearo, no squishy shock thing. Its been to local haunts the Center

Peterson Pitts



McFarland Park



Manawa



Lewis and Clark



and a little place I like to call The Stash.



The first thing you notice is the TOTAL POWER TRANSFER. If you put it into the peddles, you get it back out of the bike, there’s nothing lost in the bob of shocks or clicking of maladjusted gears. The second noticeable thing is what Nick calls IMMEDIATE FEEDBACK. That means when you jam into a corner or over a rise there isn’t any wondering what the shock will do. Unfortunately, it also means you hit it, you feel it – ALL of it. I do like the straightforwardness of it all. You either make it up that hill or you don’t, you pick the right line or you pay.



Fez and I ran into a ton of those pesky little green sticker bushes at Manawa....We'll be sawright.

As for my new singlespeed life, my back and neck is taking awhile to adjust to the beating I'm giving it, but I'll be sawright.