TdF time

good times

To define the term "screwing off" you should have been with us ALL DAY Saturday, taking notes armed with a pad and pen. Thom P, Jeff W and myself held class on blowing off steam, taking no prisoners, riding lots, staying out way late, eating red meat and not flossing. Well, maybe the flossing part was just me. Happy (almost) bygone-bachelorhood to my friend Thom P.
After an epic mid-day ride, in deep blue sky with warm sunshine. And after CVS Pharmacy saved our (my) tired and cramped legs with a red bull and can of pringel's, we met up with an enthusiastic crew at Red Bones. Led by (non other than) the man with a plan to visit every bar in Boston, Mr. Greg the leg. A brief conversation with Skip Brown over Alabama hot ribs got me fired up. Man I am now thinking my mountain bike racing life was far too short. I digress...Thanks for a great weekend. It's doubtful that any of us will ever grow up...and why should we?

Oslo, Norway

One O’clock on Tuesday. A quick trip home to gather an over night pack, snatch my passport, forgot my razor, a stop at Boarders for a lonely Planet guide to Oslo. The seven hour envoy flight was more like dinner and a movie at a four star bistro. I had the salmon, best meal I’ve had aboard a plane yet. The three drinks, Clint Eastwoods's "Gran Torino" and four hours of shut eye. This impromptu trip, resulting from a one line email from my director; need help in OSL…you game? A one word answer; YES.
Now sitting aboard an 8:21 train, but we are still in the station at 8:44. Heading back to OSL Gardermoen Airport for my first day of work in Norway. I’ve been dispatched to relocate two offices for the company. I feel it’s a reward for 8 months of work, really. But wasn’t I rewarded two weeks ago as Lesli and I lounged on the beaches of Kaua’I Hawaii for ten days. Man, when it rains it pours I guess.
This was my first trip to Europe. My first experience of the attitudes, broad mindedness, foreign customs, excessive cigarette smoke, Norwegian food, Viking architecture, hundreds of nude sculpture, ridiculous prices, apparent wealth, exceptional public transportation, impeccably dressed individuals, wide range of language spoken, day light until eleven pm and dawn at 4am. Who ever said that NYC was the city that never sleeps hasn’t been to Oslo in the summer..

But, be forewarned for pick-pockets on the streets at night. Grab them by the shirt collar and give them the crazy eye, they'll drop your shit if your lucky.

Thanks to Ray and he extensive knowledge of Oslo, among every other city in Europe. I didn't use my Lonely Planet once! And to Mui Mui, see you in Munich for Oct'Fest 2009!

Picture Show

t

Just some of my favorites from
Belinky's divorced recumbent up high,
Naked goes for the popular vote again
A frame that doubles as a canvas

Calfee's interpretation of a mangrove
Belinky's whole lotta work

Black Sheep's 36'er

complete with a sheep in wolf's clothing

guitar hero

old school

Peacock Groove honors "Kill Bill".

Check out 156 pictures of NAHBS here.

And check out Igleheart news on his Blog.

What would Michael Stipe do?

Choosing a super power is tough... I mean, IF you could choose one that is. When I was a kid with a paper route I wished daily for the ability to bounce with a twenty foot stride from house to house to deliver papers. Not because I wanted to deliver great service, I just wanted to be done so I could go play. Omni-linguism would be a good and responsible adult type superpower. The ability to understand any form of language. How great would that be! Would that include computer language? Animal language? French?? Yesterday I wished for a super power. The ability to transform my early season fitness (or lack there of) to a much less painful level. My lungs are working and my legs feel good, it's just the extra 15 pounds of spare tire I'm hauling around is weighing me down (quite literally). Time to skip the deserts and pass on the french fries. - That would require another super power for me. I need to get back to where climbing hills on a single speed feels good. "Are you supposed to taste blood during a ride?" Hey, at least I can still jump off rocks.

Nahbs closing in

Large wet flakes covered my head as I stepped the short distance from my car to Chris' shop door. My head white with snowflakes and my boots brown and sinking in deep mud. I round the back corner and duck as I open the shop door. This winter can't end soon enough. The shop is small, warm, and lit, a sharp contrast to what is outside. Stuffed with milling machines, a lathe, welders, tables, vices, jigs, tool boxes, and Igleheart's precious bridgeport machine. An eclectic folksy tune on the radio and the smell - part pine tar, part burned metal, part machine oil.
The first time I'd entered one of Christopher's shops I thought he was in the midst of reorganizing. But, the longer I know Chris the more I come to realize he is a systematic person caught in a whirlwind of current projects and others on the horizon. I just accept the piles of supplies and mountains of machinery as a shop in constant transition. My trained eye can now identify progression amidst jumbled confusion.
Igleheart has put many hours and weeks into this years' pilgrimage to NAHBS and last night it became evident.
Chris' friend Jim came up from Chinatown to assemble show bikes as Chris welded forks on the other side of the small shop. Jim's attention to detail and his knowledge of bikes surpasses mine by far, I was there to watch and drink beer.
As I enter the shop and shake off the snow Igle is lathing down shims for an odd-sized brakelever. "Everyone should have a lathe!" - I tend to agree with Chris. Jim's laugh is contagious as he proclaims "good job on the custom hinged shims!"
I crack a beer and inspect a showbike carefully clenched in the stand. John the painter rolls in and parks on the snow covered driveway. Jim and I go out to grab the freshly painted bikes, I hustle to the rear of Jon's truck and see how gently he is handling the candy-coated frames and forks. I pause and carefully pluck two forks from John's grasp, he gives a sobering look while hesitantly giving them over, one fire red and one lotus green. I hold them far apart, not to clang them together and carefully trudge through the mud back to warmth of the shop.
After a few trips three freshly painted frames and forks hung securely from the shop ceiling. We admired Johns handy work and complimented on precise masking and just the right amount of metallic dust. The bikes look da bomb.
Jim and Igle worked well into the night. I'll stop back by to see what they put together.

Someone had alot of time...

97% of the machines components came from Deere Industries and
Irrigation Equipment of Bancroft,
Iowa , yes farm equipment!

It took the team a combined 13,029 hours of set-up, alignment,
calibration, and tuning before filming this
video but as you can see it was well worth the effort.

It is now on display in the Matthew Gerhard Alumni Hall at the
University and is already slated to be donated to the Smithsonian.

Otis

The plan was made to hoof it to the cape for a long awaited first ride on actual dirt. It's been a long winter with loads of snow and too many road riding miles. We landed at our destination an hour delayed due to a closed highway. A three hour one-way drive in order to ride for 90 minutes, you know we were desperate for dirt. Actually it was a 2.5 hour ride but we had to stop at every intersection to read the trail map.
Even if the drive down was four hours it's worth the trip. Matt and I on single speeds and both Jims' and Al on full suspensions. The trails are comprised much of winding single track with small climbs and banked corners. 19.1 mph was top speed on the chute trail. major fun.
We need another try at finding all the trails, we covered only half of what Otis has to offer...we just needed a trail guide but Tom and Reenie were soaking up the rays in Florida with Harvey.
Next week we may take another journey down over the Borne bridge and check out the Trail of tears.

baseline

So today the best possible thing happened; I got my ass kicked. But not just kicked. That's putting it lightly...I got destroyed. It was pretty intense. I did survive. Barely. A smile on my face as I spun slowly home post destruction (the smile detectable somewhere under all the salt and road grime).
Skip and I originally threw together a casual plan to pedal west out toward Boxford... that's where the plan was abandon.
We saw a group of three riders 3 minutes into our ride. "Hey..ah, you.. ah.. wanna catch those guys?" They were moving quick and it took a mile to catch'em. The only road rig I have running is my fixie and I am questioning my rational as we TT up to the trio of guys moving at 24 mph. Having zero time to warm up -my legs are sending messages to the control room.. The conversation goes some'tin like, "hey whats going on on the bridge? - the turbines are billowing, slow the F down!!" The control room ignored the legs pleas, "ah did somebody say something?" "We're too busy being macho and trying to stay out of the wheel in front of us...(make that wheels - plural)- cause now I'm seeing double!" The throttle was firmly pegged like it was July already. That's pretty much how the two hour high interval ride went. I swallowed my pride when forced to walk up the big hill on little neck but whatevea.
Our five man peloton was comprised of Brian Wilichoski, His two buddies Iron-man Dave and Parker, Skip and me. First beat-down of '09.
You just never know what's going to happen - but can only wish for days like this.
Now at least a baseline has been established...no where but up from here.

"hey what's taking you guys just spin faster"

A big shout-out to Harvey Peeet'rsiel. He's my friend and neighbor with a huge passion for cycling. He broke his hip last Sunday While riding. Luckily he had some solid people on site to call for medical aid and help with the transport of his gear.

Five shiny new screws now hold his pelvis together.

- Hey, is a pelvis and a hip the same?

The surgery seemed to be a success...here's to a speedy recovery Harv'e.

Crrrrrrrap