Weekend at Betty's

Condolences for the death of Betty White popped into the mailbag in a comforting, fast way after the grim announcement of her pending demise (and the photo of her crack) aired on this channel on Wednesday.  Aluminum mountain bike frames are dropping like, well, aluminum bike frames these days.  Maybe it's the heat.  But it would seem Old Betty touched a lot of lives in one way or another, and that's all well and good I suppose.  But something was missing, I reckoned, and one email really said it all.
From:  Dangeorus Dan
To:  BRC
RE:  Betty White
"What?  No kiss goodbye?" 

Indeed, Dan, that's a valid point.  Sometimes a man just needs to say goodbye the right way. 

And, given the fact that I've got the next 5 days off from work, the pending 100 degree temperatures that are about to infect the right coast, and the now-voiced demand from the masses (or just Dan) for Betty White to have a proper wake (a slightly dangerous proper wake) and I think I know what's coming: a farewell tour. 

I'm still brainstorming ideas for a slogan:
"Betty White to Black"
"The Golden Girls do Green County"
etcetera.

Big picture - it doesn't matter.  The Betty White Farewell Tour is happening this weekend, loosely defined as:

This Friday, which suddenly has become today, 8 PM: Wind down the Trek demo here at the rancho relaxo, then go see if Betty White can superfly the paranormal loop like the superfly can.  Chances are, probably not. 

Saturday:  A day of rest.  And probably some epoxy.  Even a dead superstar needs a rest day. 

Sunday Morning: Gravel Church.

View Gravel Church in a larger map

Although the route happens to pass adjacent to a few nice churches, I can't claim it's spiritual in the traditional sense of the word.  But there is a bakeshop along the way that might make you think about God, so that's something anyway.    

Monday, 10 AM:  The Tour De Berg rolls from Braley's pond at 10 AM.  Assuming Betty White is still alive and kicking, she'll be rolling Le Rocktown Tour with the best of them, though admittedly far, far behind the best of them. 

Tuesday:  Brokenback to the observatory.  At night, of course, a familiar route for the old girl which could be fortunate if the Tour De Berg has left her further debilitated than she started, which is almost certain. 

Wednesday: Likely crippled well beyond the point of safety by this point, both of us that is, a two-fer is in order.  Some kind of morning loop with the 31 year-old love of my life while our sitter chokes/entertains/chokes the tots, followed by an evening brownie crit that, if Betty ain't dead yet, is certain to finish her off. 

In my head, I liken this effort to a sort of rural, 100 degree, bike personification of Weekend at Bernies. 

Friends of Betty, you're all invited along.  RSVP's welcomed, but not required. 

Say your goodbyes.  Drink a 40 or two.  But, above all else, take the ride.
Like life itself, Betty won't stick around long. 

Up, up, up.

Betty White's Crack

Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a world where Betty White could just die a peaceful, private death away from the prying eyes of the poporatzic media, without grainy pictures of her crack spread all across the Internet like some tramp?


Maybe. But that's not the world we live in.

And what fun would that be anyway?
Technically, Betty White has multiple cracks, that tarty little freakshow. And one of them has gotten obscenely loud, loud enough it has me worried. At this point, for multiple reasons, the Betty White metaphor should probably take a back seat for a moment so I can focus on the matter at hand; my bike is dying.

Handbuilt in Marin, CA in 1998, the original receipt was for a $1200 rigid hardtail with canti's that the buyer UPGRADED with a Mantiou elastomer fork. One of the first machined rear triangle bikes produced in CA for stiffness and weight savings.  100% dotcom, late 90's hot shotedness.  Final price tag was damn near $2k. Worth every penny.

The dotcoms imploded, CA was left for Colorado, and the bike was sold to me in 2001 for pennies on the dollar - renamed, as anyone who has ridden in Golden, CO can appreciate, the silver bullet, I guess you'd have to see a photo or two of the old gal in her finer days to really behold the glory that used to be. 

 



Countless trips to Utah.


A week of singletrack in Crested Butte.


Reconstructed for the 4th and final time.

Betty White and I have spent some great afternoons together, and in a way I think she's a part of me.  Even Sunday, creaking like a bad screen door at a haunted house, Betty set a personal record (for me, not Betty) around the local gravel loop here in Earallysville. 49:27. With the right kind of earplugs and a complete dismissal of ones own safety, it's like she's never been better.

But eventually you gotta get out while the gettins still good (and your nads are still intact). 

Mountain bikers and our bikes, we're sort of like lizards and their tails.  Yes, we're connected.  But fortunately the connection isn't permanent.  They break, we get another.   Betty White, I'll miss her, but she's heading to the big scrap pile in the sky and I've got my eye on the next 10 years.

Trek Demo. Friday, 5 - 8 PM at the BRC test track.
http://www.trekfactorydemo.com/region.php?region_id=1


Where one idol falls, erect another.
If you can, eradicate all traces of the first.
Keep moving.
-Wiggins

Thanks for your patience.  Dr. Crackframe will see you now.
Up, up, up. 

Two Man Time Trial. Hashtags not permitted.

As a new policy, I hereby refuse to race any event that appears hashtagged in any public media outlet.  Not that I don't dig technology, or that I don't love surfing the twitters late into the evening when I should be riding the trainer, but for the purposes of getting away from it all a bit, I'm going to prefer my racing be done with a little less public gusto.  I'm thinking the public will probably be fine with this decision. 
 

Appropriately in that same spirit, The TwoManTimeTrial is Sunday, 10 AM, leaving from BRC, and entirely free of hashtags at this moment.  So count me in.  From Shawn at the Shop:

The training ride is Sunday 1/22 from the shop. 
The course may be amended for weather and trail conditions though to remove the section along the RTF.
10am from BRC, 2 man/woman teams will go at 2 minute intervals from the shop front doors.
totally not for real race, this is a hard training ride only, plan on stopping for lights, signs, traffic, etc.  There will be no on course road closures or traffic control, so ride is totally at your own risk.

Naked, hashtagless racing.  No Map.  Raw, much in the same way professional wrestling was back in the 70's. 






What to ride, what to ride?  I'm told that this is a gravel (non)race that includes the RT, which, of course, isn't very gravelly at all.  Any race that "may" have a segment that rails the Rivanna from the shop to Ivy rd probably deserves fat tires.  But a long gravel route out into the "freeness" of Free Union seems to say Cross bike.  It also says, "we could use a map", but that's neither here nor there.  A safe bet - generally speaking, it's hard to go wrong with those Nevegal 2.5's. What the hell, run what you brung and Betty White and I will see you at the start line on Sunday. 





Still cracked, still rolling.   I just can't bring myself to put the old girl down.  That's the thing about euthanasia - a word that I thought, as a child, referred to kids in Tibet and what not - she's really got to be in pain or a significant danger to the people around her to warrant Dr. K getting involved, were he available, which he is not.  And from what I can tell, Betty White isn't hurting anybody right now.  So Catlett will have to tolerate her creaks and her aches and pains on Sunday.  And try to keep his frat-fro on my wheel.  We've got a (non)race to win, Booger, and all these Belgians and Italians aren't hanging around for a warmup.  Hydrate with something besides miller lite. 



And on the subject of iconic women in Hollywood and bikes that I ride, I was gifted a little piece of history a short while back.  And, while she's not quite as tired as Betty White, she is nearly as beat up, and quite possibly with many, many more miles on her hubs. 

I present to you, Madonna. 

The Dragonlady has risen.



8 speed.  Steel.  Rigid.  While Madonna is not necessarily as talented as Betty White was in her day, she is resourceful in ways that Betty was not.  I like her.    The rear wheel, appropriately, is an old race disc bontrager that I've hucked the living bejseus out of, ridden through epic mud, and generally mistreated like you might mistreat a musician whom, though you adore her, you are a little ashamed that she authored a photographic sex book so close  to her 50th birthday.  I'm getting off track.  Anyway, one new freewheel, courtesty of Ian at the shop (and by courtesy, I mean I still need to pay for this item, otherwise that's called "stealing") and it's rolling freakishly well for such an old creation - much like Madonna herself. 



Steel is real scary. 



Still, I'm pretty sure Betty White could kick Madonna's ass. 

We'll settle this on the BRC test track, ladies. 



90 years young



Until that time, keep your knobbies buzzing about, and I'll see you on the line on Sunday.  

Up, up, up.   

Things to do in Tucson when you're still alive.

Three-fer-Thursday out here in Earallysville. You heard me; three.

Those of you already familiar with the now-notorious (or at least, gaining notoriety) two-fer-Tuesday training regimen that Kev 29er has adopted, you probably know what I'm referencing. For those who don't, Two-fer-Tuesday represents the two hard workouts that Kev29er does every Tuesday in January and February to be stronger than the rest of us when March rolls around.

you don't just inherit a body like this. you build it. the rig frame though?much easier to come by .

Three-fer-Thursday is the natural progression of that discipline, pushing the boundaries of reasonable training methods in an effort to not only OVER-train but also embody the great spirit of cramming that, for example, makes our public universities so prestigious. Welcome to the United States of America.

And, let's transport ourselves for a moment back in time; welcome to Target. This is a real conversation I overheard between two Target employees last week:

Dude #1: Come on dude, seriously? Betty White instead of Katy Perry?
Dude # 2: Yeah, dude, Betty White is beautiful.
Dude#1: But she's like 100 years old. You can't mean that.
Dude#2: Doesn't matter. She's timeless.
Dude#1: Seriously?
Dude#2: Think about it. You get with Katy Perry, and 50 years from now, what have you got? Nothing. No one will remember who she is. But Betty White is forever.

Set aside for a moment what this says about Target's level of customer service (all good things, of course.) The personal significance here for me is that conversation became my inspiration for building back up the silver bullet.

the last time the silver bullet rolled. Pantani Ride 2010.

There's just something about old bikes that I can't get enough of. Additional inspiration? The 5,000 feet of climbing on the Pantani Ride between the base of Fox mtn and the final rally back down Simmons gap - rare moments that I'd rather not have a full suspension behind me.

So I've set about cleaning her up and getting the stuck bits spinning again. And wouldn't you know it, I wish I'd actually cleaned some of this grime off a year ago. The good news is that things are coming into focus, an old friend with an even older fork has come through in a big way, and I will soon be able to present to you the bike formerly known as the Silver Bullet but now called...Mrs. Betty White.

for the sake of proper build-up and tension in the plot, I will withhold the picture of my Pantani Day ride until February 12th.

Let's move on. I've got news, much of it out of date or rapidly becoming so.

With a return trip to the penultimate sections of the Pantani Ride today at 11 AM to train and strategize, Erico Moortani has established himself as the man to beat on February 13th. If you want any chance in hell of getting around that loop in front of him, I recommend you either join him at 11AM today or schedule some time of your own to grunt and suffer up there in the cold.

Oh, and even bigger news. Last night was a 54 degree full moon in January. Around here, that's like seeing Bigfoot - rare, but not altogether unexpected. Anyway, we had sticky singletrack, a big silver dome going in and out of the clouds, short sleeves, disconcerted skunks and possums, the whole wonderful experience. That made night ride #2 of the week for me, but when the sky is like that and your dad says rally, you rally. Some things, well most things, are more important than rest days.

Saturday plans? I know I promised. Let me under-deliver in the most brief, unapologetic way: I don't know. Looks like snow tonight, and then freezingfreakingcold. Those conditions are not conducive to the plans I previously made but didn't disclose. So we'll see.

To close on a somber note, I probably don't have to tell you about Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, US Congresswoman and all around nice lady, being shot down in Tucson last week by some lunatic who probably doesn't get out and ride much. I also probably don't have to rattle off the countless ways that sucks for her, for her family, for Arizona, and for our country and world in general. But I feel I should ADD one more way that it sucks so we all know what's at stake here.

Gabrielle Giffords rallies.

singlespeeds are cool. Congresswomen who RIDE singlespeeds? Off the charts.

It's easy to sit back a bit on our haunches here on the right coast and carry on - that shooting took place a long way from here in a world we don't often see. But Mrs. Giffords is one of our own.

On an enormously positive note, Mrs. Giffords is doing her best to persevere, and yesterday she stood up and looked out the window.

Not really sure why, but I thought I'd hijack some pictures of me and my old crew from my buddy's website (hi Kirk) on a road trip we took down to Tucson in 2004. It's an amazing place. Lots of laughs to be had down there, and it's not so far away.

To us, he is Jude Monoco Ortiz. But he is known to the Navajos as "crashes in parking lot"


Sedona, AZ


Ocatillo forest gun show, Tucson AZ


buddha beach, Sedona, AZ


Damifiknow, a terrible trail choice in the Spring.


maggie eventually married her titus.


still haven't seen anyone else who can ride like that.


tucson, AZ


Get well, Mrs. Giffords. We're with you.

Betty White won't be attending snotcycle

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.

Everything from Snotcycle to dangerous quadcycles.

So late last week, the weatherfellas were giddy with the idea of a big storm tomorrow, Tuesday. Scenarios were hashed, models were drawn, and plans were made to hide in the holes for a few days because it was going to be frozen hell on earth. Appropriately, this might have made snotcycle a test of misery, further validating my decision to go skiing in PA for the weekend instead.


skiing on skis, that is. not bikes.

The forecast for tomorrow at this very moment: 54 and sunshine.

Waking up this morning and having a look at the new forecast, it occurred to me that this level of inconsistency could be produced in a far more entertaining way. Think about it - NBC 29 has 4 weatherfellas. Clayton Stiver. Norm Sprouse. Eric Pritchett. David Rogers. Right now they all give the same, inaccurate forecast at different times throughout the day. Then the next day, they switch it up, and collectively give a new forecast as our "dedicated weather team."

Why not just give each one his own bit, have him independently pick a forecast, and then present that in juxtaposition with the other three so that we can see just how little certainty there really is in their predictions. Plus, this would open up a sort of "league" mentality. They could track wins and losses based upon who was actually right any given day. And fans could get on board, sort of like how we pick a rider to follow in the Tour De France based upon their race, demeanor, good looks, and other mostly irrelevant differentiators.

The real entertainment would be the presentation of the forecast itself, with Eric Pritchett giving a forecast like, "Sunny and 54 on Thursday" only to be immediately followed by Norm Sprouse saying something like, "oh HELLLLL no. Cloudy, 30% chance of some drizzle. And how could you trust a guy like Eric after last week when he said ice storm and we just had a cloudy day. Plus, he pays for his spray tan. Screw that guy."


Anyway, here's how we look right this very instant:

As you can see, in the 7 minutes it took me to write that, the forecast for tomorrow has changed. Brilliance at work. But that's enough talk about the weather, because let's face it, you'll be riding anyway. Good luck up there with your snot and all that. The first race of the season is seldom a time that I don't cramp, so if you lock up something important early, I'm there with you in spirit.

Moving on, forkage finally arrived from the West on Saturday, presumably on a wagon train that was harassed the whole way by marauding natives given the timeframe it took to actually arrive. But arrive it did and Betty White in bike form was one step closer to realization.

a little piece of history. the Z2 superfly. the first air fork marzocchi ever produced.
not the first air fork that Jude Monaco Ortiz threw off a cliff in frustration, however.

Betty White then, regrettably, took two steps further away from real completion as it seems her bottom bracket threads have dried out a touch and the decrepit bottom bracket within is stuck solid. With force, you can turn the axle and hear ovalized, rusty bearings grinding. So, like your liver someday, that's gonna have to come out. And it's going to take some real elbow grease to get 'er done, but rest assured I'll get 'er done.

In related velo-assembly/velo-disassembly news, I'm making a modest effort to sell the Palomino. Damn, I love that maverick design, but I've gotta be out with the old to be in with the new. And I LOVE the new. So she's on ebay, but if you're locally interested let me know.

1 X 9. Single. Clean. Sagittarius. I get told I look like Jessica Alba pretty often. Enjoy candlelit dinners and love dogs. And I rally like nobody's business. Looking for my soul mate. or companionship. or even just a fling. for God's sake, LOOK at me. I'm crying out here.

And why not wrap this up with some fun. Because what the hell, it might be Monday, but the $199 dollar quad-cycles that are on sales right this very second at Tractor Supply Company can be hucked, skidded, and ridden to your death on any day. Even a weekday.

please, sir, we ask that you remove our extension cord-powered security system before rally-hucking yourself into oblivion on a product you haven't paid for.

Wear your helmets, kids.
Keep arms and feet inside the car at all times.
And try not to eat the yellow snow.

"Toph looks like Chris Horner. There I said it."

Those interested in how Betty White's farewell tour turned out will likely be disappointed to hear that, after a lot of talk about her toughness, Betty went to the bench early on Friday evening with a cut sidewall, among other age-related challenges, and she never bounced back. Sad, really; it felt a smidge like a bride getting shitfaced at her own rehearsal dinner, then failing to turn up for the rest of the weekend.

Is she dead? Did she just get cold feet? Hard to say. Maybe we'll see her again someday, maybe not.

Fortuitously, however, Betty's no-show left me a very brief moment on Friday eve aboard a Trek Scratch. Easy to ride, difficult to define. Think of it as an anti-depressant you can get over the counter, but you can also jump it over the counter. Convenient in all kinds of ways.

Speaking of going to the bench, Monday's stage at the Tour de Berg damn near killed me. The southern traverse, in particular, had something like 100 downed trees along its otherwise magnificent length. Braleys to road hollow to the breastworks and all the way down the southern traverse and back - 9 hours of riding and scrambling through the carnage left by our friend, derecho.

But I didn't get the worst of it - so I snapped a few photos to vouch for the necessary carnage when it's "the only race that matters".

100 degree temps and deadfall-gridlocked trails, seemed to me to be the perfect chance to sneak north.

This just in: New Hampshire kicks ass.

Up.
Downdowndowndowndown...

Thursdays are for Thirsty

Over the hump, into the downhill side of the week, hit the weekend with a little zip in your step.  It's Pantani week, and Sunday at 10 AM the mayhem goes live. 

Well, around 10 AM that is.  Likely a few minutes after. To be perfectly concise, whenever Quadsworth is done stretching his gigantic, creamy hamstrings, we will roll.  And if you're into all of that on the weekends, then Thursdays are for thirsty.  Hydrate, bitches. 

Also, given that it's Thursday, it's safe to say that the weather forecast for Sunday is at least 25% accurate by now, and she's showing 49 and sunshine.  Not a bad day to go ride in the mountains. Not a bad weekend to not be in New England. 

the little fish that could cripple Boston but has little to no relevance down thisaway.

So then, the official Pantani Course Weather forecast: A few flurries tonight, some rain tomorrow to soak it in proper, sunshine Saturday, and pain on Sunday.  Dress accordingly.


And as long as we're making last minute preparations, let me post up those maps again.

Never a bad idea to print those, put them in a waterproof container of some kind so they won't be rendered soppy and useless by your sweat and tears.  Although I've had some feedback that there's a turn somewhere around Nortonsville that isn't accounted for on the queue sheet, in which case just point it downstream to where civilization usually exists and hope for the best. 

Also important at this, the 11th hour, it's a good time to change your bike set up.  Maybe even wait until Saturday for that.  But a really last-minute, hurried attempt to a) change your wheels and cranks b) pull a proper cross bike together c) rethink gearing and install new cables and housing, etc is always, always the right call.  In fact, what the hell, Shawn owns a bike shop, and the race starts in his yard.  Might as well just show up 15 minutes early with a box full of shambled parts and have him put it together for you.  No time like the present. 


As for me, it's with a heavy heart that I have to say this is the first Pantani ride in quite some time that Betty White won't be making it around the course.  No indeed, Betty's days out there at the top of Brokenback are behind her, and she's been given a soft desk job with the occasional responsibility to pull the kiddie trailer around the block.  What can I say - even the Mona Lisa's falling apart. 
 
Madonna, on the other hand, is lean, mean, and more ripped now than she was in her, ummm, prime?
 



Steel is real scary

That's about all I've got for you.  I'd summarize in some way, but I didn't really have that much to say in the first place anyway.  Show up before 10 AM, dress warm, pack a lunch.  The rest is up to Pantani.  

 "Looking back, there was always a fatalism in Marco's riding. He won or lost through foolish, inspired deeds with little sense of strategic calculation. The tangible holding-at-bay of the night in those unforgettable late-afternoon victories at Montecampione and Les Deux Alpes was always there. For others, stage-racing has always meant weighing up the potential of stages to come, and riding accordingly - riding, it might be said, in the future tense. Marco had no future tense. His style, in life, like his cocaine use and death, was lyrical, not narrative - a losing himself in time - and, in time (or outside it), the forces that had allowed him to live, consumed him as they consume us all." - Matt Rendell, The Death of Marco Pantani



 Up, up, up.