Thursday, April 26, 2012

Wolfpack goes to Douthat

"You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when I met Chris at BRS, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack... it grew by one. So there... there were two of us in the wolf pack... I was alone first in the pack, and then Dave joined in later. And six months ago, when Dave introduced me to you guys, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, running around the desert together, in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast!"

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The word for the day...


Use it in a sentence.
Get 22 points in scrabble, knowledge I would not have easy access to without this handy tool.  Not an App, better, a Module.  And, as long as you're judging me and my reference to Scrabble technology, "Geek" gets me 9 points.

Ride it while it's short.
Ride it while it's cool.

Unearth yourselves, good people of Fooftown, skyward.

Up, up, buttercup. 

Friday, April 20, 2012

6WC results and other outdated news tidbits

Some folks spring into spring, energetic, well-prepared, and sometimes even victorious in their efforts. Hats off and mad congrats to Zach Morrey and Gordon Wadsworth for early season victories here, there, and everywhere.  

Officially the unofficial official team shorts.  Sunscreen not included. 

At BRC racing headquarters, we pride ourselves on finding and roping in such talent and vigor early in their careers, signing them to tawdry contracts, claiming their results as our own and garnishing their winnings while offering little to no financial support, and then cutting them loose on the backside of their career when tendinitis and assrash set in and no one else will have them.  At least I do.  So, don't fall in love with these two titans of the east coast amateur circuit anytime soon, lest you be faced with the same sort of broken heart that befalls farm girls around these parts when they finally come to the awful, truthful conclusion about why Bessie the cow is missing and why they've been having burgers every night recently. 

In short, enjoy the ride while it lasts.  But the minute Qwadsworth falters, we're eating him.  Get used to the idea. 

Rather than spring into anything these days, I tend to plod, somehow lazy, frantic, and distracted all at once.  Simultaneously caring for twins, taking a new job, and building a house will do that, apparently.  But, if riding the dragon were a podium worthy feat, I'd be the next big thing.  It's not.  Nor should it be.  But 25 dragon rides into the year at this point, which I'll unapologetically brag about to anyone who will listen, feels like a real accomplishment, and what the hell, one must celebrate ones triumphs regardless of how little fanfare might be paid by the world at large.  It's mountain biking after all.  Big picture, there's just not that much fanfare to go around anyway. 

And, call me nuts, I just love how this thing rides.

As a follow up to a previously undisclosed thought that I never finished or started to write about herein anyway, people who link to their blog within their own blog should be dragged out into the streets, admonished heavily, and eaten.  Especially when linking to the blogpost immediately prior to the current frame of reference.  I'll try harder. I promise.  No promises. 

It's Friday, 4/20, and the sun is shining and the flowers are blooming.  Might be about time to put the doobie down and go ride your bike.  Or maybe sit tight and then do BOTH tomorrow. 

Your call. 

Up, up, up. 

Sunday, April 15, 2012


I stand by a conclusion I made long ago, that as a species we should do our best to pretend plain yellow mustard never existed, bury all evidence to the contrary, and move forward into the great, limitless world of possibilities and spicy brown mustard.

About the hardtail, on the other hand, I take back the ugly things I once said. It is not dead.

Connecticut kicks ass.