I've cried about Wouter two or three times. Real actual tears.

----------

A Small Voice From The Living Room: "Hey, Dad?"

Me, tired: "Yeah, bud?"

Little Voice: "When you finish with your mise en place, will you read me a story?"

Me, laughing: "Sure, bud."

-----------

Everything is really great, and really hard.

I bought some new Jack Purcells today. And they are white.

I'll need them. Summer is threatening.

She threatens and threatens, but the bitch never seems to make a move.

-------------

I'm out of restaurants for good. For now.

Who can really complain about the bar? The nights are late, but there's only three of them and the rest of the time is the bike. The mise en place. The kids.

We'll pull the car out onto the grass on wednesday nights this summer and walk around drinking beer out of plastic cups and smelling race gas. Horrible old rock-a-billy bands. Biker chicks.
It's good to get down. Boogie. Yeah.

this little taste of blood in your mouth

JVA.

1972

My Old Man and his buddies hanging out in the woods way back when.

I'm sorry I played your piano

Stoneskinksvanmorrisonoverload. I can't get enough of these kids.


I drink beer again, and that's allright.

de Ronde, pdx. 2011

There isn't much to say about it, and I don't have any photos.

Let's just round up and call it 8000' of climbing in a little less than 50 miles.

The Colnago is perfectly suited for a pleasurable day in hell.

We busted in a new team member. That makes me happy.

I simply can't carry enough food to fuel me. I took in probably 3000 calories, and still couldn't stave off an horrific bonk in the last 5 miles. I got all disoriented, went down too far, and had to re-climb a long, brutal section to get back to the turn I missed.

SeanBobs wife was at the top with a picnic spread. Soft cheese, bread, fruit, and beer.

The longest 5 hours on the bike I've ever spent.

Best part of the day:

A double Red Bull and whiskey shots in front of a Plaid Pantry. The clerk laughing at us so hard. Video of this exists and I will post it here when it surfaces.

I hope the sun is shining wherever you are. Today is going to be a good one.

ronde pdx

I quit my job. I quit drinking beer, for now.

I'm going to California in a month to climb Mt. Tam and eat fried pescado with our old friends.

The boys will be meeting some of their contemporaries, and mine. Important people, all.

In three days I will be doing this:



I rode about 60% of it a couple of weeks ago and nearly fucking died.

It's as bad as it looks, plus a bushel.

3eanuts

Sad.

strange love

It's still raining some and the cherry blossoms are out. It hails and the hail falls sideways and fifteen minutes later the streets are steaming and the daffodills are erect as spring.

I say we put down the books. Walk away from the sewing. Wake up the kids.

Let's just go for a drive.

... and all the shit you missed in '67

Dance slowly, you bastards.

I bet you didn't know how cool this band actually was.

Rapha is hosting rides all over the world this weekend to collect money to benefit the victims of the disater(s) in Japan.

Today it didn't rain. I put $20 in the jar, and that will be turned into $40 by Rapha, and they will give it to the Japanese Red Cross.

I'm thinking about all those families.
------------------------------------

And I'm thinking about those families here going through trouble. Our friend has a big tumor in his brain and they're going to try to cut it out on Tuesday. The C.S. family is leaving today for a long drive to go help out.

You guys are doing the right thing with this. We love you so much and are sending all the good vibes we have.

See you when you get home. Stay positive.

xoxoxox

Easy, Peasy, Japanesey

edit: I posted this the day before the tragedy in Japan. No disrespect meant. Big love going out to all and hoping you and yours are safe.






"Master" tasting of the barrel components of some Japanese whiskey today. I'm drunk.

It's 5 pm, and I have to be at work in 3 hours.

Rad.

Valparaíso Cerro Abajo 2011 from Toño on Vimeo.

allez

This is the guy behind me. He drowns out all the other voices in my head.


This is a weak post, I know. And it's been weeks since I posted. Coincidence?

okay, a run-down.

SRAM Force comes in white boxes with greasy fingerprints all over them. Warehouse pickers, and then the shop guys (Amanda refuses to wear gloves), and then me.

I spent my retirement and the kids' college fund on new bike kit. See also: "voices in my head, 2011".

What began as a kick-ass early training regimen, has devolved into a bare frame on the stand, and so many packages of Belgian suds.

10 pounds down, and 10 pounds up. No worries, it's only March. The bike is back together. Still waiting on the rear deramarialister. I robbed one off the cross weapon to get me rolling. Supposed to rain for the rest of the week, but I ain't afeard. Wednesday will see me back on the snowy peaks. Maybe dancing. Maybe dragging the poor legs around.

Yesterday was sixty miles out to Crown Point. There are some fast guys and some guys who puke. I am both, and sometimes neither. Totally depends.

There has been some debate here, mostly internal, concerning the upcoming (as in, happening right now) road-racing season, and whether we shall undertake such pursuits. The resounding murmur has been darkly negative. I treasure my collarbones, and as Mr. Chris so succinctly put it today, "I'd rather spend the money on bike parts".

No shit, man. There's enough for me in our weekly team rides, the occasional Rapha jaunt, some light touring once the weather turns fair, and mine own, gut-wrenching sojurns up Le Col de Rocky.

Cyclocross starts in September, which is just around the corner, really, and at which time I may begin the wholly selfish three-month endeavor of the drenched, bloody, and drunk weekly racer.




Embro

Guy le Tatooer

There isn't much to say about tattoos that hasn't been said. So I won't.

However, this very much makes me wish I had a plane ticket, a bunch of cash, and bare arms.











Guy le Tatooer

Dennis

Take the time to watch this. It's important.

transmission

hell of the north portland

There was some exitement about the footballs today. I looked at it, beer in hand and my aching legs propped up on the coffee table.

I liked it okay. The little boys were interested. So yeah. I watched the fuckin superbowl with my sons.

It was boring as shit. More boring than baseball, which is really boring. I love baseball. But it's pretty dull.

Not dull: Fast, trading pulls pacelines along the river with a bunch of hard-charging bastards. Like nails. Like railroad spikes. Numb hands and shoe covers.

Try to think about anything but holding on. Taking your bit. Falling to the back and looking for your pace in the awful wind. Awful.





pics by Jose. Thank you, Cthulu.

Muck Bike

It has just finally become what it should always have been.

No telling how a thing is going to be without you giving it some time. Lay some years on it. Let it be active in your mind and under you. Like knowing anybody, you can count on knowing anything in the same ways. Understand each other's weaknesses, and never push there. Hurt together. Want better for each other.

Push away and come back.

$

Rapha tries to kill me.

There come a point when it were just the sound of yr bones grinding together. A song repeating in your head. Crunch of gravel. I can taste the last cig I smoked from 5 years ago.

They, that group ahead of us. One lagging a bit and then, head down pulling back in tight to the tail of it. All grey jackets. A bit of shine and dirt, and then a blur.

Top of the hill. man, what a slog. And they're having their bite. No laughing now. Tall one holds a hand up and says the sun's going down. Three fingers is a hour at most.

I grew up in the country and never heard such as that, but it makes sense. We measuring all things.
Call goes up and then down and down.

We try to hang on but the legs wont move. Hungry. out of water. Chattering. Pedal squares to a cross and look about. It would seem that left is the way back, recognizing this from hours before.

A little nervous for one's safety. Them hills are treacherous in the day and it's just dusking. Little ribbons of red out over the west. Maybe 40 degrees and falling.

We know to be better prepared than this, but it was a long night and morning gets away from us.

I don't have to tell you how it ends because I'm here telling.

funday

Pink dinosaur rides homemade skateboard.



Doppelbock Freakout. Hops are dead.



If a Box Head slaps the shit out of you, you probably deserved it.

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsor.

21st Avenue Bicycles - Family Fun Bike Build! from James Wilson on Vimeo.

It's Wednesday

Oakshire Ill Tempered Gnome at The Clyde

It's Tuesday.

Kulmbacher Eisbock.



Kapuziner Weissbier.

PROST!



Kulmbacher Monschof Schwarz Bier.

Gruner.

Barton Park

I'm getting fatter. Belgian beers, frites, Singapore chile crab, like, erryday.

My last race was the hell-pit of Barton. I hurt my knee, and may have permanently damaged my sawdust.

It was a game-changer for me for sure.





Photos by J. Bacon

Roy

Favorite Jeans through a toy microscope.

Run Free

4

These are an exact sequence about 3 minutes before Cal went outside, stepped in dogshit, and spilled gasoline all over his coat (don't ask).







Happy Birthday, Tiger Boys.