The new Big Bikes is officially live at BigBikesMedia.com! We're kickin' things off with a GoPro Helmet Hero video taken from the perspective of USA Cycling Cyclocross National Champion Jeremy Power's personal mechanic: Tom Hopper during the Elite Men's race. CHECK IT.

BigBikes p/b Cyclingdirt Is Live (ish)

It's still under construction, the banner images look like they were designed by a drunk eight-year-old, and the blog doesn't work yet, but still...it looks and works a whole lot better than Facebook's new Timeline system. Oh, and the URL will likely be changing, but here it is...

The new Big Bikes p/b Cyclingdirt!

Got a bunch of Pro Bike vids up there and a nice thing about Boyd Cycling's affordable carbon CX wheels. I'll be heading to CX Nationals where I will be shooting TONS of material, so get really excited about that, because it is totally happening.

If you'd like to suggest content — shop visits, factory tours, interviews, or other weirdness...hit the contact button (upper right, under 'Tell me why I'm a big, fat jerk). Or, screw it, hit me at this email address: wellonabigbikeya at gmail.

Hang on, this is gonna be fun.

Something Wicked Awesome This Way Comes

"If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine."

OK fine, Big Bikes is not being struck down, it is just being re-invented. I just really, really like that quote from Star Wars.

Listen!

Big Bikes is about to be reborn with the help of the good folks at an evil umbrella corporation called Flocasts. (As a former bike messenger I think that all umbrellas are evil — all they do is get caught by the wind, fly into the street, and poke your eyes out with their pointy, pointy spines.) You may be familiar with some of the sites that take shelter under their evil umbrella — sites like Cyclingdirt, Flowrestling, Gymnastike, and FloFerret-Legging (last one...totally made up). What's that? You're not familiar with the latter (not made up) two. Well, I guess you've been living under a rock and not hanging out under the same evil umbrellas I have.

The new site will use all the tools in the Cyclingdirt arsenal but it will have a distinctly Big Bikes flavor — heavy overtones of coffee, notes of hops, and a bitter, perhaps, Red Bully finish. Altogether a BIG taste.

Big Bikes 2.0

First thing we're going to do at Big Bikes 2.0 is stop calling it "Big Bikes 2.0." Basically because I have no clue what placing "2.0" after things means. Maybe we'll call it Big Bikes Too, like Teen Wolf Too. But probably not. Big Bikes Not-2.0 is going to be all about exploration. In the future, when I'm sent to do a race coverage by Cyclingdirt, the area of the race will be explored, sort of like the classic E! show Wild On with Brooke Burke, with less bikinis and more Lycra.

 Or not.

Maybe more like Anthony Bourdain's The Layover. 

Although that may be too sophisticated a comparison. Perhaps Man Vs. Food...but with bikes would be more accurate.

Damn, it's gonna be really hard to eat all those freakin' bikes.

You're going to see classic Big Bikes stuff on the new site, all sorts of goofy blog posts and weirdness, PLUS, you are going to see race coverages, gear reviews, shop visits, factory tours, interviews, Pro Bikes, and god knows what else. We're going to make it up as we go along. And while I can't promise the content will always be accurate or at all good, it will be constant and somewhat entertaining.

The new site will also be a collaborative type thing, so if you want to suggest content, request a tour or a race coverage...do it!

The launch of this alleged new site is imminent...don't touch that browsah baah!

Not That Strong A Planner

There are stories clogging up the pipes here at The BigBikes, blocking other, better stories from coming out. Story-constipation. It's a real problem. Time to put on the arm's length latex glove and reach up the story pipe's ass and pull that shit out. 

What a charming image. 

I'm not that strong a planner. I don't plan. I bought a plane ticket, one way, to Bend...Redmond actually, for the High Cascades 100, which I was covering for Cyclingdirt. The idea was to make my way over to Missoula, MT sometime after the race. The race was covered. Tons of sweet helmet cam "footie" was taken of fast riders on amazing Oregon trails. Then my favorite Ozzie, this side of Nick Cave showed up after the race with a friend of hers. Beers were left unfinished that night as Deschutes Public House. My excuse? The 3:30AM wake up call for the 5:30AM race start (ya, the one I missed. Suck it.) 

But the next day, Sunday, we did (eventually, after way too much coffee at Thump) make it to the Niner demo not far from downtown Bend. There we met up with a most majestic Fuzzy John Mylne. One of the most terrifying single speeders on the planet. He doesn't shave his legs...or his chin. I think it's a religious thing. 

I opted for the R.I.P 9, a 4.5" bike. Unfortunately, the trails near the demo were smoother than Massachusetts pavement, so they were unable to put the R.I.P. to the test. I could feel it chomping at the bit, talking to me, going "Mommy, can I go out and kill tonight?" but I couldn't offer up any victims. 

It looked good though. Even if it was a gun at a pillow-fight. 

CGW really putting the Jet 9 through its paces on the road back to the demo spot. We got a little turned around. The road was not in the plan. Only bad plans involve roads. I'm finished with drop bars, did I mention that? 

Simone was too fast to keep in the frame. Seconds after this photo was taken, frustrated with our road grind, she rolled right the fuck over that loader. That's what happens when you put an Ozzie on a 29er. "This thing would be great faah runnin' ovah wallabies!" she concluded at the end of the ride. Then she chugged a can of Foster's and let a Vegemite burp go in my face. (I have known Simone for almost a day...we can joke like that). 

Not a strong planner...right. So I thought I had booked a flight through Travelocity just before we left Thump for the Niner demo. I hadn't. When I called (while we were already en route to the airport) to confirm, they told me that my transaction had been canceled three minutes after I made the reservation. WTF? I would have said, if I said such things. "OK, well book me another seat on that flight please." "Nope, all the seats are taken." "All right, the next flight then." "At 11AM?" (it was 5PM). "What's another word for WTF?" At that point I told the Ozzies to turn the car around and that I'd spring for tubes and beers so we could float the Deschutes in style. Of course the tube rental place closed at five (Planning! Yes!) and we were left to drink really cheap, really good beer at a party attended by kayakers and stand up paddlers and their ripped abs. It wasn't too too bad. 

Plan...where were we? B? (I don't know) was devised: I would rent a car at Redmond Airport and drive it to Missoula (10 hours according to Googly Maps). And...go! One problem — I didn't pass the credit check. What can I say? I'm a fucking mess. And none of the sketchy companies I normally rent from would do a point to point from that location. But that was when CGW stepped up and overtook Nick Cave for the title of "Thom P.'s favorite Australian." She offered to put the car on her card if I promised not to get in a drunk-texting accident or hit a bull elk on purpose. I also took back everything I ever said about Cadel Evans being a hobgoblin with the voice of a little girl. 

It's 581 miles to Missoula, I got a full iced coffee, a half a night's sleep, it's dark...and I'm wearing flip flops. 

Hit it!

Just after I saw what I am almost positive was a wolf, I nearly ran out of gas. I'm not afraid of wolves. I'm not afraid of anything. (Except for great white sharks in fresh water rivers and lakes and C.H.U.D.s under the stairs.)

The cruise control was set at 83 for about 7 hours. I hardly stopped to pee (which is a great sign after exerting yourself in the heat for two days), but, when I was within less than an hour of Missoula, at 6AM, I hit construction. It was almost more than I could handle. I pulled off for a coffee, pulled back on and was promptly instructed to stop. "We got a wide load comin' through...gonna be a while." "About how long?" "Oh, about a half hour." "Just take that stop sign and beat me to death with it please. Seriously" I proceeded to turn off the car and fall asleep, waking up to the stop sign being tapped on my window. Shaking off the drool and cobwebs, I saw that two large pick up trucks were waiting patiently behind me, not honking. That never would have happened in Boston. I mean, Missoula is the town where I saw a meter-maid approach a guy at a cafe: "John, is that your truck?" "Yes, yes it is." "Meter's up. Didn't wanna just nail ya." "Why thank you, can I buy you a cup of coffee?" 

Absolutely surreal. 

We'll get down to talking about the riding in Missoula and Bozeman soon...

Bend Dude...Bend (High Cascades 100)

First off, let's get one thing perfectly straight, I did NOT do this race, I merely covered it for Cyclingdirt. I have determined that both racing and covering a hundred miler is...fucking stupid. Or, if you want the PG version, not feasible. Several people have said "Aw come on! You gotta race it." None, I say none of those people have ever ridden a  hundred miles on their mountain bikes, never mind raced a hundred miles and then had to stay up all night editing "sweet footie." What I did do was hop on a demo Niner Jet 9 furnished by the awesome guys at WebCyclery and chase the leaders on different, generally pretty exciting sections of the course. It was, in a word, rad. This method of coverage left me with plenty of energy left over for post race interviews. (Check out the coverage page on Cyclingdirt for that stuff.) 

Out of Re-Missing In Action (We Think)

I have been remiss. Maybe re-missing in action. I've been doing too much stuff, crazy stuff, to be blogging it up all the time. But balance must be found. 

Thursday Night Championships of The MTB Universe

What can I say? There's been more doing things than talking about doing things here at The Big Bikes lately. For instance, the NEMBA Burlington Landlocked ride has been GOING OFF. It has effectively become the Thursday Night Championships of the MTB Universe, with local killers, assassins, and smooth criminals coming out of the woodwork to blaze watts and crush souls. 

Last week we had Colin Eggleton from Wheelworks leading it out. Resultsboy was there, as was Pete "Mad Alchemy/Dad-Power" Smith. Kevin "K-Sweat/Squirtgunshow/I blog less than BigBikes Thom" Sweeney graced us with his presence yet again. GTL (Greg "The Leg," not "gym, tanning, laundry") came out to kick ass and take names, but his plan was derailed by a SRAM XX malfunction...his chain became a work of modern art for seemingly no reason. MKR, who has been our guest local ride leader/torture artist missed this ride unfortunately. Here's his take on these rides. Steve "Party At The Back" Hopengarten was doing just that, playing caboose with an exhausted-from-his-mega-commute Harry Precourt. Marty "TorolocoCycling" Allen was a little too comfortable going balls to the wall for what felt like way too long. He may be the silent killer in the bunch. He's like radon gas on a bike. (Ooh, that sounds wicked scary!)

I'm just playing rope-a-dope here...things are about to pick up.