Three-fer Thursday out here at the Rancho Relaxo, and who is up to bat?
Mrs. Betty White, that's who.
Well, well, well.
well, well, well, well, well, well.
On a personal note, Betty White (known at the time as The Silver Bullet) was the first bike I ever raced. 2002, I think it was, in Fruita, CO at the fat tire festival. I took a single 12 ounce bottle of water on a 30 mile race through the desert in mid April, got dehydrated, got smoked, and I was hooked and I haven't stopped racing since.
So yeah, here we are 9 years later, and she has risen from the dead. A little cracked, a small dent here or there, but otherwise this is excellence in full effect. It's a hoot when things come full circle and you can see it from the other side.
Some highlights - 1.6 inch teal tires. Full length housing for some cross nastiness when the time is right. And the smoothest 60 mm fork that Jude Monaco Ortiz ever threw around the trail in frustration. Thanks again, Jude.
Interestingly, when I was setting the v-brakes up, I discovered a not-insignificant amount of blood on the right brake lever.
No idea where that came from, but perhaps that's why I don't usually ride v-brakes. Will test more.
The very real possibility of total implosion aside (me OR the bike), Betty will be near the front at game time on February 13th.
But back to the matter at hand, Three-Fer Thursday and the Snotcycle. I don't appear to be participating in either one in any significant way. We did, naturally, only get about 2 inches of slush yesterday when the final prediction as of game time was 9 inches, so that works out in favor of a 3-a-day rally and a race on Saturday. But I'm a little too busy working, taking pictures of my bloody brake lever, and going skiing this weekend to otherwise participate.
But someone out there is likely giving workout number two hell right about now, possibly with plans for a third. I won't name names, but I will, sometime in the next month, post video documentation of him 360ing a BMX bike off a homemade wooden ramp when he was an over-developed 16-year old hoodlum. smoking cigarettes. with a blond mullet.
So good luck up there. And remember, kids: pain is temporary.
But one-geared, blond-mulleted glory is forever.