EBBs Vs. Sliders

The other day Colin "I think it is perfectly reasonable to wear a bucket for a helmet" Reuter forwarded me a question regarding EBBs (Eccentric Bottom Brackets) Vs. Slider style rear dropouts on single speeds.

Since the only people who really ponder such matters are Single Speeders (and really only the biggest dorks amongst that contingent) I'll give you a quick rundown on the types of tensioning systems used on Single Speeds. There are a couple other solutions out there, but I'm going to stick to the ones below for now.

Here you've got you Rear-Facing Horizontal. Fine for a fixed gear or a track bike, really lame for a Mountain Bike. Mountain Bikes have Disc Brakes, they just do. Hybrids and Children's bicycles have V-Brakes. This "solution" was used because tensioning the chain with varying gear ratios would cause the relationship between the Disc Rotor and Caliper to change. The easy way out was to run a V-Brake on the rear. Leaving the ass end of your bike firmly planted somewhere in the mid-nineties.

Simple Expander Style EBB, Common on most EBB mountain bikes. This is the type of EBB used on both of my Fisher Rigs and My Ferrous only a bit bulkier. The current Fishers use a model with cut-outs, reducing the weight significantly. I had PVD machine out the EBB on my '07 Rig to save some weight, but that's beside the point...

The Good:
Easy and quick adjustment allows you to swap out gears before rides or races. Rotor and caliper stay in absolute constant relationship. No potential for rear wheel slippage. Certain fit issues can be addressed with fore/aft position of EBB. Very unlikely to slip out of adjustment. Adjustment changes BB height.

The Bad:
Creaky. Must be pulled out and cleaned repeatedly to maintain quiet. Totally screws up your Saddle height and fore aft adjustment. If you are an XC racer-dork or Endurance type bloke, you will probably find having to adjust your fit every time you change out a gear pretty damn annoying. HEAVY. This is by far the most lard-assy system. Adjustment changes BB height.
I've heard people say they like to run their BB in the up or down position (you get the same tension on the chain in either one) depending on the terrain, i.e.; run it low for fast, buff stuff and run it high for "East Coast" technical, rocky stuff. I always keep mine as low as possible. In the "up" position I feel like I'm standing on a skateboard...on stilts. Keep the BB low, keep the center of gravity low, corner better, go faster.



Carver makes a nicer version using a more complex expander wedge system with a nylon sleeve which eliminates the creaking. A good upgrade for a Fisher Rig or any bike with the same BB shell diameter.

Niner Bikes was using a simple Set-Bolt Style EBB, now they have some crazy new deal. They claim it is the holy grail, I really know nothing about it other than that it exists and that it sounds pretty cool. This one is red.

Set Bolt or Pinch Bolt Style EBB. I don't have much experience running one of these but I have seen what happens to the EBB after many adjustments. The Bolts make little divots in the EBB. When you make an adjustment the bolt wants to slide back into that divot. Probably not the best system. I'd take an expander over one of these.

Now to The Sliders. Paragon makes the end all be all of Sliders. Kona has their own version as I'm sure other folks do as well. I used these on my Independent Fabrication Single Speed. I really had no problem with them at the time.

The Good:
Saddle height and fit are obviously not influenced by changes in gear ratio. The relationship between the caliper and the rotor stays constant. They are pretty light.

The Bad: Adjustment requires re-centering wheel. Changes wheel base. Gear changes most time consuming of any system.

Conclusion...er, really depends on your needs. If you change gears a lot and either don't mind monkeying with your fit or could care less about it, go EBB. If you want to save weight and if and when you do change out your gear you don't want to monkey with the fit, go Slider. If faced with the choice between Set-Bolt style EBB and Slider, go slider. Which I think is what I was actually supposed to address here.

Is that really a conclusion?

Big Bikes may have magically re-appeared at the top of the Google search listings (which I will not crow about, I learned my lesson Death-Bots...please don't hurt me Death-bots, have I told you how sexy you look today Death-Bots?) but it is still not a place people generally come for technical advice. Which, of course, won't stop me from speaking of such things in my own special way.

-t

Too Much Riding Not Enough Writing

You're just going to have to keep reading to find out the answer to burning questions like "Why does Rooter have bucket on his head?". I'm sorry.

Last week was a long one. I'd upped my on-bike hours to the longest yet this year. Shot for 18, ended up with 17. My life doesn't really allow for more than that. Not sure that I need more than that either. I primarily race twoish hour events. The benefits of riding 6+ hours per week are lost on me. Mark Weir is faster than I could ever hope to be, and he thinks a 16 hour week is long.
I also worked a lot, sure some of my work involved stuff like this but it still made for long days.

Sleep didn't happen, I predicted a breakdown at work today if I couldn't muster a little Stage 4 sleep. Ten hours in "The Booth" (Hey Adrian, want your old job back?) writing up repairs and dealing with the public. Here, have a taste:

Man walks in dragging (yes dragging, always a bad sign. The guys at the ER probably cringe when someone drags another person in) a Magna mountain bike.
"I would like some air and some grease...and whatever else it needs".
I take a look.
"Yup, it needs a Bronze Tune and a front axle nut, that's $65 plus about a buck for the nut".
Sixty Five bucks? But I only paid one hundred dollars for it on Craigslist, that's ridiculous!".
I bite my tongue because it wants to tell him what is truly ridiculous in this situation.
"OK just check it over and make it safe and give it some air and some grease".
"I'm sorry sir, but the bike needs a lot of work to make it even roll. Unfortunately it is my honest opinion that the bike is unsafe to ride in its current state".
I air up the tires and hold a bottle of Finish Line in close proximity to the black, grease-caked chain while pantomiming the application of lube. I drop the bike off the stand and hand it back to him.
He and his wife walk away, staring at the bike bemusedly wondering why the air and "grease" did not remedy the wobbling wheels, the front brake lever which pulls straight to the bar, the front brake housing that was wrapped around the head tube, the rattling saddle, the fact that while riding this bike it would seem perfectly reasonable to wear a 5 Gallon bucket for a helmet.

It is strange that I don't tell more angsty bike-mechanic stories. I have a lot.

Speaking of not enough time...wait, were we even talking about time? I don't know, but now I'm going to talk about not having enough of it because I do not have enough time to write here, never mind the other places I sometimes try to write. Therefore I wrote a 29er Crew specific post about getting my Bontrager Xr1s mounted up Tubeless over there. It is so exciting. Not exciting enough for exclamation points, but what is!

The Man With Two Helmets

Ya see, I had to get a newer new helmet even though I had bought a new helmet just a few days ago. I will now tell you why in such a convincing manner that you will not think I am King of The Douche Bags. At least for a day. OK, maybe just the morning. My expectations are probably still too high.

I bought the new helmet because my old one met an untimely demise. Note to self: Do not check your helmet in a soft bag at the airport. I'm sorry, but the folks who tell you that wearing cracked helmets is A-OK and that the malevolent helmet companies (who put addicting drugs in their products to make you crave them fortnightly) tell you not to because they want to sell more helmets are probably the same people who don't wear their seat belt because they are afraid of getting trapped in burning car because they couldn't release the belt. I saw that episode of Chips too. However, it did not influence my motoring safety habits.

Are they locking antlers like two Elk vying for dominance.
Or are they going SMOOCH! You decide.
The comments on the photo up top there are just too damn obvious, I'd probably just leave that one alone.

After the Hop Brook Dam race I got several comments regarding my lack of a pink helmet. How I was virtually unrecognizable without it. Thing is, I didn't know I could get a Trek Sonic in Pink...until it was too late...not to spend more money on a helmet I don't need. I hadn't clicked on the link to the proper Thom P. helmet because it was listed under "WSD" helmets. I'm going to let you in on a little secret here; the only thing WSD about these helmets is the pink paint. They measure the same 56-60cm as the MSD helmets. They don't have pink straps like my old Atmos and the box doesn't even have a butterfly on it. Quite manly. Chuck Norris would wear one. At least if Glen Beck told him to.

Part of my justification was that I am going to be leading kids rides for NEMBA soon (maybe this Saturday if we can pull it together. Sorry, don't know what's with the extreme linky-ness today). Sometimes pink helmets are confusing for kids and (ignorant) parents alike. I want to spend time teaching kids Mountain Bike skills, not forcing a discussion on tolerance of people of alternate sexual persuasions, or people who appear to be of alternate sexual persuasions (because they wear pink helmets...and have streamers on their bikes...and listen to Bronski Beat).

I want to explain how to wheel-to-wheel logs without hitting your chainring, and avoid having to explain why implying that someone is gay is not inherently funny. Next time you hear someone make a joke like that, change the word "Gay" to "Black" and see how it sounds. And if you don't get it then, you are beyond help.

Oops, actually got serious for a second there. Won't let it happen again.

I was going to talk about how I got my XR-1's mounted up Tubeless and the P.O.W. like weight it has brought the Superfly called Precious Thing down to, but it's late and I've yammered enough tonight. See you tomorrow.

-t

Epic Thursday

Last season I had Sundays and Mondays off from work. Which was great, it allowed me to do a race or a hard ride on Sunday, then basically sit on my ass all day Monday and recover. This season I've had Sundays and Thursdays off, allowing me to race or do a long ride Sunday and do an epic mountain bike ride Thursday.

Recover when you're dead I always say. Or when you're broke, busted, and burnt out.

The Fells opened last Wednesday, so I wanted to get in there. I also wanted to get up to Lynn Woods and check out all the craziness the kids have been building there. And I wanted to ride the Remedy. The Remedy is not a fast and light XC bike, it drags on the road, but it is really, really fun once you are in the woods.


Riding out my front door and down the stairs is not how I generally start my rides on The Superfly...or the road bike. Right off the bat, the ante is upped. Another difference between the Superfly and The Remedy is the tinkering, the adjusting. I hadn't ridden the bike since late last season, so a good portion of the beginning of the ride was spent playing with air pressure in the fork and shock. It's worth the trouble. The second I got into to The Fells I was pulling off stuff I wouldn't even dream of doing on my other bikes. The 60mm stem and 67° head angle say "Go jump off that shit". And I say "OK - Aah!".

I rode up through just about every section of The Fells to the tip top and hopped on the road over to Breakheart Reservation. I was looking for a cut through over to Lynn. All I found was some pretty thankless powerlines and a paved bike path. I guess it beat riding on The Lynn/Fells Parkway or whatever, but it dumped me out well south of where I usually hit Lynn Woods, causing me to have to ride up Route 1 through a series of parking lots until I got to the overpass which takes you to Walden St.. I couldn't resist a last minute stop at a Starbucks for a little liquid motivation before I hit the dirt.


When I got into the woods I was standing there, looking at my map trying to figure out where I was going to go. I don't actually know Lynn that well. I haven't been up there in about four years, and when I did go it was more to do Trials type stuff up on the now developed Bow Ridge. Serendipitously enough two dudes, I think their names were Nick and Joel, I suck with names, so it could have been Nort and Jubsy, anyway they rolled up, asked if I needed help, then offered to show me around. So much better to just follow someone seamlessly through a place without having to stop and figure out where you're going. Of course you end up no wiser for it really. I couldn't retrace the ride we did if you told me I could have free Butternut Donuts (and I do mean "Donuts" ) for life.


We never did find the "Crazy Crap" but we did ride miles of super-rocky, technical terrain for about an hour and a half. Lots of steep ups and roll ins, no eight foot drops or anything, but enough excitement for an XC Dork like myself.

With about and hour of daylight left and the hunger knock firmly setting in, I began the rumbling grind home on my 2.35 tires jacked up to 28Psi. Back in the, as we say, day I wouldn't have had the juice left after four and a half hours on the mountain bike to hit up more trail on the way home but I guess the boring road miles have paid off. I ripped through every section of The Fells on the way back as well and didn't come home drooling and draped over my bars, spinning my granny gear on flat ground.

It was a good week for the riding of the mountain bicycles. Got out on Wednesday night as well. We'll be out there this Wednesday, 5:45PM, at The Shop.

On the D List

I don't know this for a fact, but after consulting with my guy who I consult with when technological matters cause me confusion, it seems that my "crowing" over the fact that Big Bikes had come to occupy the top Google spot for the keyword search "Big Bikes" may have caused the Google Death-Bots to de-list my site. You can't be serious Death Bots.

Have a heart death bots, don't be as cold and uncompromising as WADA. Guys who forgot to get a Doctor's note for their Asthma medication shouldn't have to miss The Le Tour De France and guys who ride their bikes a lot and like to talk crazy about stuff on their blog shouldn't have their site blocked from keyword searches.

Jeez Death Bots, can't you take a freakin' joke? Like anything I do over here effects The Leading Designer & Distributor of Cruising & Touring Accessories in any way.

Yes, most people who Google my site find it by way of "Big Bikes", but you can keep it Big Bike Parts Inc., you and your little buddy with the laser-beam-shooting eyes, Ted The Google Death-Bot. People can still find my site with othe popular searches like "Bigbikes", "Thom Parsons", and "Bikes for fat people".

I guess what I'm trying to say, in so many words is...
suck it!

The week actually ended with a surlpus of bike-related material, but I have to be up extra early tomorrow so I'll have to space all those amazing stories and photos out over next week. That and there's a shiny-metal-dude with glowing red eyes knocking on the door. Gotta go.

-t

Bad Food/Writing Day

Some days you go out hard and the next day you pay for it, it's recovery time. Yesterday I went out too hard, today I have nothing left. In the morning I rode an hour of trail on the way to work with IBC teammate Kevin. Commuted to work on the Superfly. Then rode some more trail post-work with a few people. But all that may be a story sandwiched between way too many photos to distract you from the fact that sleep deprivation has turned my brain into an object that resembles petrified dachshund poop and that I cannot put two words together, um...for another day. That sentence plummeted to destruction faster than a drunk college kid on a brakeless fixed gear with a snapped chain going down Mission Hill at 3AM. That one wasn't much better. I give up. See you tomorrow.

Oh yes, the photos.
I started off the day with a large Dunkin Donuts coffee with a shot. I was sweating from my Superflyin' Commute, so the woman behind the counter easily convinced me to go iced. First time this year. Must be summer already. The coffee did the trick, kick starting my brain enough for it to provide a bare minimum of functions. This is the part where my brain should be telling me the funny functions it did actually perform...nothing.

Ok...still nothing.

Never mind.

Word on the Needham Streets was that McDonalds was giving you a second Big Mac for a penny when you bought the first one at full price. I offered to split the deal with someone...if they bought the first one! Ha! So funny, get it? Because they would pay the FULL price and I would pay a penny. That is so funny. I am peeing myself. Wait, I do that when I'm scared and when someone says "Thom Pee!". It sounds the same as "Thom P.!". Honest mistake.

Truth is everyone I tried to convince to do this thing with me wanted both Big Macs for themselves. Bastards. Then it was coffee time. Bryan and I went on our daily Man-date to Starbucks. He went for the much more reasonable prospect of Fresh City, but for some reason retreated, coming back into Starbucks to tell me he would enter into the heart attack pact with me.

I did it, got the two. All with the idea that I would give my "extra Big Mac" away. But it went horribly awry. After one Big Mac I felt fine, it was delicious. Bryan sat to my left, looking at naked pictures of Abe Vigoda on the computer, he told me to stop being a pussy and eat my second one. He told me he was feeling fine. I did it. I Quickly did not feel fine. Far from it. Bryan wasn't far behind, he too was feeling the awful sugar headache thing, the gurgling tumult in the gut.

Why? Because it was there. And so was the other one.

The one-two punch to the stomach the 540* calorie a piece sandwiches delivered sent me into a comatose state. I shambled around the shop like and extra from The Thriller Video until I offset the fat and sodium tsunami with a Venti Coffee (with a shot) from Starbucks.

Crap food, crap post, I'll have photos and stories of all the crazy trail riding up tomorrow.

-t

* I posted this originally last night, for some reason the clock for my blogger posts is screwed up, and I realized today that it looked like I double posted for Wednesday (isn't this fascinating?). So I re-posted, losing Zencycle's comment about the fact that the Big Mac has 540, not 450 calories. That was actually me doing the thing I do where I transpose numbers. And yes Zen, I felt pretty much like I was going to puke.

Re-Direct

Been doing a bit off cross-posting. Putting stuff up over on the 29er Crew site that is basically a re-hashing of stuff I've already done over here at The Big Bikes. Not the case today. I actually wrote something wicked awesome specifically for that site. It is a re-telling of events at The Hop Brook race only with more of a Thom-is-smoking-tons-of-crack-cocaine-feel to it. Haven't piqued your interest yet? I'll just say that it involves Sasquatch suits, me getting kicked in the nuts, and is almost 100% made up. OK it is 100% made up.

So go check it out. That way when Fisher 29er Crew Team Manager Travis Ott looks at the site stats he'll be all like "Whoah, that cat Thom P. sent us four referrals! We should tell him to quit his job at The Bike Shop and pay him a six figure salary to travel the world doing bike races, eating weird food, and generally being a raving dumb-ass".

Help me realize my dream, go read my post over on the 29er Crew Site. It's what Jesus would do (if he worked a desk job and had low standards and lots and lots of time on his hands). It's what Gewilli would do any way.

-t

Uncharacteristic

I know that some days you must stop by here and say to yourself "Man, I wish Thom P. would stop talking so much and posting so many narcissistic (sweet, spelled it right the second time!) self-portraits. Can't he just tell me what he ate for breakfast and how many watts he put out during his commute?".

Egg & Cheese from Dunkin Donuts (we were out of eggs and spinach at home) and not too many on my recovery ride into a brutal headwind.

Wind, I do hate it. Yesterday I tried to do a little endurancy spin up to Concord on the way to my sister's for Easter dinner. I basically did three-quarters of the ride into a headwind and the last quarter with a ripping tailwind. Then I ate John Goodman's weight in Mac & Cheese and Ham and lay about sweating and groaning for the remainder of the day. I love Mac & Cheese as much as I hate wind. If the wind blew Mac & Cheese into my mouth while I rode, I might reconsider. Until then wind can take a flying f#%*! at a rolling doughnut.

You know that I can't even spell "Doughnut" right thanks to Dunkin Donuts? I imagine many children in Massachusetts grow up with this handicap.

So ya, I'm going to sleep now, I will tell you a couple more fascinating things and then good night.

Wednesday April 15th, IBC MTB ride in Cutler Park, out of the Newton Shop, as in meet at the shop, 71 Needham St., 6PM, no lights required. We'll ride at whatever pace the group dictates until it begins to get dusky out and the Coyotes begin circling. Call over the shop if you have any questions - 617-527-0967.

Saturday, NEMBA Fells opening day. IBC 'll be there, leading rides, doing tech support, giving away popcorn. It's the first weekend you can legally have fun in The Fells. I personally cannot wait.

That's all I got for now.
Oh, I just got clued into how awesomely Cyclingdirt is covering The Root 66 Series. I grabbed the below video from their site. Watch for the guy with purple sleeves (I forgot my arm warmers) in 20th place at the start. I use The Jefferson's model when it comes to mountain bike racing - Movin' On Up.

Hop Brook...Damn

That's right, Big Bikes has toppled Big Bikes Parts Inc. from the top Google spot when you search "Big Bikes". Of course by the time you read this they will have knocked me back down where I belong. That didn't stop me from doing an obnoxious-logo-altering-victory-dance. In your face Big Bikes Parts Inc!

I've been doing this thing lately where I wake up way before I need to be up. When I awoke Saturday AM I felt like I was doing that thing, mainly because I felt like crap. I looked at my phone , it read 8:03. Huh? My alarm was set for 7:15, my IBC Teammate Kevin Sweeney was picking me up at 8, I was confused. It was either a.) Kevin never got my last email and he wasn't showing up at all, or b.) he had come and gone, or c.) he was running slightly late. Lucky for me it was C. I filled a coffee mug, threw my clothes on, Kevin knocked on the door, I handed him bike, and by the time he had it ready to put in the car I was ready to go. Eight minutes from the time I got out of bed, we were rolling. I hadn't brushed my teeth or "done my work" but we were rolling.

No work. I hate leaving the house without having done "My Work". The other day, I'm not kidding, I suited about, bibs, sweater, jacket, helmet on, ear buds in, glasses on, then I had to go back to do more work...three times. The suit up, un-suit-up process taking three minutes each time. Fucking Chipotle.

Hey! I'm talking about poop here, don't rush me. Do you actually think this post will get better than this? Keep smokin' kid, keep smokin'.

As much as I talk about my love of Dunkin Donuts, I nearly never eat the stuff before a race. I wasn't close to having enough time to make my oatmeal, so it was Egg & Cheese on an everything Bagel for breakfast. I'm definitely not complaining about that.

I've made a huge mistake. That's what I was thinking when Kevin and I headed out for a "warm up" lap on the course. No way to warm up really when it's sub-50° and pissing rain. The only purpose this pre-ride served was to strike terror into my legs as they backfired and sputtered while attempting to turn over my one dumb gear.

The first time I did this race was last year. It was a freakishly warm day, I got sun-burned. The course was fast and dry and lead me to believe that running a 34 X 17 this year would be a great freakin' idea. Oh what a difference 365 days make. I decided to go back to my single speedy roots and show up to the race with no box of tricks. No chain whip. No arsenal of cogs. Just show up and ride what I've got. Thing is, in the past I was perpetually under-geared. That was not my problem in Middlebury Saturday. I ran a 58" gear. A gear that has been fine in training for the past few weeks. But I haven't been training in greasy-ass mud. "Hey rear tire, what the hell's going on back there?". "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just slipping out with every over-torqued rotation of the cranks". "That's just great buddy, this is gonna be fun, can't wait".

Note: I'm trying to multi-task, watching Paris-Roubaix and writing. It's not working, this race is just too good.

OK, I'm back, you have my undivided attention. You and The Office.
Hey you guys want to hear about Hop Brook?
It was indescribable.
Actually it was describable.
I will now attempt to describable it. And I will try to make it short. Like Danny Devito. But I will try to make it less fat and hairy than Danny Devito.

There were a lot of guys in the field, I guess the whole category change thing is working. The start was muddy mayhem, my glasses useless within seconds. Being tired and utterly lacking high-end capabilities right now, I just let things sort themselves out. I wound up in a group with a guy on an IF 29er and the only other Pro, single-speedin' guy present, James Harmon. I would pull ahead here and there and then James would spin up the hills as I got bogged down and struggled. He was running a much more intelligent gear, a 34 X 19 on a 26er. Until half way through the race he was even keeping up on the flats. You know you've selected the wrong gear when you're running up the hills, attacking geared riders on the flats, and only getting spun out on paved downhills.

The course was slick, a whole lot more fun than last year. Lots of high-speed double-track, broken up by little technical sections which were sketchy if taken at full throttle. I was cold, wet, generally hurtin', but I was really having a great time. Eventually I found myself in no man's land, a couple riders shadowing me from behind, Mike Rowell ahead, dangling just out of reach, opening gaps imperceptibly. I've been spending a lot of time on the Mountain Bike, the skills are good, I was confident that I was closing through anything remotely hairy or technical, but Mike is a powerhouse and was laying it down through the open stuff. At one point I thought I had magically decimated the gap on the last steep pitch of the one major climb. But no, I had caught Cathy Rowell in her NEBC kit. I tried to get her to chase Mike with me, but when you have a Teammate/Husband in the break, you can't be expected to do any work.

After the first lap I was pretty much running all of the climbs. As conditions deteriorated, the geared guys were slipping and sliding so much that I was actually gaining ground in some spots. God, I hate running though.

Last lap, going into the final singletrack section I saw Mike closing on Nate Ringquist who was, in turn, closing on Gunther Hofer. That flipped the switch. I was looking right through Mike at Gunther, probably forty seconds ahead. I caught Mike, then dragged him up to Nate as we entered the last substantial climb, the kind of grassy thing, that turned into a mud-fest by the top. I went into the gravel road stuff alone, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Mike and Nate closed down the gap. I blasted up the pitch on the gravel road, coming up on Gunther.

Nate, Mike, and Gunther closed the gap on the pavement just before the entrance into the small, penultimate climb. Nate got the hole shot, Mike countered with a Jens Voigt-like attack of incredibly ferocity. "I do NOT have that!" I said to Nate. Nate chased, I followed, Gunther was still right there. Mike faded, I came around Nate and gasped my way to the top, pretty sure that if I got to the last stretch of rocky, muddy singletrack first, no matter how much I was vomitting on myself, I would likely hold it to the line. It's nice when you think about doing a thing and you can actually pull off the thing you are thinking of doing the way you imagined it. It was an awesome finish, like something out of a spring classic. Like we were duking it out on The Koppenberg.

I landed myself in 7th place. Behind 29er Crew Teammates Andrew Freye and John Foley (1st and 5th respectively), the always fast Matt O'keefe, Mike "I arrived ten minutes before the start and whupped major ass with no warm up whatsoever" Mooradian, an uncharacteristically geared Mike Montalbano, oh ya, and Tim Johnson (Andrew actually beat him...sick).

IBC Super Army Soldiers Colin and Kevin (hey, Kevin, start a blog!) ripped it with matching 3rd places in the 19-29 and 30-39 Cat 1 races. And George Shaw pulled off a top ten in the Sport 30-39 race. It was also good to see IF rider Mark Elsasser out there. Hopefully I'll be visiting his neck of the woods for some Michaux stuff this summer.

OK, gotta crash. A wee bit too much celebrating last night with The Leg and The Todd Downs who (gasp!) updated his blog.

-t

New Lid

Man, I thought I had something to say tonight. Now I'm pretty sure I'm going to blurt out a couple random things then trail off and fall asleep on the couch. First random thing, I got a new helmet. My old Giro Atmos had developed three defined cracks, rendering it beyond useless. If I had taken a direct hit, I would have been dead or worse. I could have spent the rest of my days with the intellectual capacity of a Brussels Sprout (but how would we know the difference?) Hey! Save it, I'm making fun of myself here, no need for you to chime in.

Now I don't remember taking a hit that would have cracked it like that. There was that time I woke up next to a parked car wearing lipstick and Lederhosen while I was on my way home from Redbones though.

So I ordered a new Team helmet. It's a Trek Sonic Helmet. Which is just as light, or lighter, and every bit as ventilated as the much more expensive Atmos. I'm a good salesman huh? And, as you can see form the above photograph of my very scientific testing process, it is actually much stronger. "Sonic smash Atmos - Smash!".

Got my hours in today on the bike, which cut into my writing hour(s). Went out on a shop ride with some of the boys from The IF Elite Team. They're doing these rides every Thursday night out of our Newton shop at 5:30. The pace is brisk and steady, but not brutal. Maybe 20-24MPH and not very hilly at all. Check the Event Calendar for details. It was nice for me to ride with these guys. They made me realize I'd been neglecting my spin. Being surrounded by five Cat 1's who can pedal a bike way the hell better than you'll do that to an octagon pedaling clod like myself.

After we looped back to the shop I threw my pack and lights on and kept on rolling out to Weston, Lincoln and Lexington. As I turned down Trapelo road the moon was huge and orange and hanging low in the sky over the city. You never know when you're gonna see something so god damn beautiful, it'll blow your silly, little cycling socks off. Guess you just have to keep getting out there and pedaling until it comes along.

Ok, what really happened to the Atmos. The Sonic didn't smash it. It carried it off while I wasn't looking, wrestled it under the hydraulic lift, and crushed it alive while it laughed maniacally. I'm hoping I can harness the evil power of the helmet and wield it against my enemies.

Racing Saturday down in Connecticut (one of those words I'm always psyched to spell correctly the first time, I usually want to double the n and the t's, like Mississippi, Connectticutt) at The Hopbrook Dam. I'll have my race report on your desktop first thing Monday. See you then.

-t

Photo Cred: Jason WG

It Will all Make Sense in Time,
Just Keep Reading

This is totally un-bike-related, but it's the funniest thing I can think of right now. On second thought, it is bike related because it occurred in a bike store. So never mind.

The other night M and I had my niece and nephew in for their first sleep over in The Big City of Somerville. They live in the Burbs and wonder why we park our car on the street. "Where's your driveway Uncle Thom?". That's right, Uncle Thom. And I used to live in a cabin, I'm not kidding, I really did. It was full of spiders. One bit me on the face while I was sleeping. I respect spiders, but I hate them...because I fear them. They probably fear me too, until I'm sleeping, then they crawl up and bite me on the fucking face. "Not so scary now, are ya puffy face?".


Quick sleep over synopsis:

we went to the park up on Eastern Ave. where I sometimes do hill repeats, the guys did slide repeats, then we went to Spike's for hot dogs, then we went to the video store where we debated getting The Wizard of Oz or some random, crappy,made for T.V. Xmas movie my Nephew grabbed off the shelf and insisted vehemently was better than The Wizard of Oz, with a surreptitious cue from me the clerk informed Noah that the DVD he had selected was actually broken, it worked, we picked up some ice cream and popcorn and lit out for the house where we stayed up too late and ate too much junk food, perfect, after a couple stories the guys were out, no problem, in the AM Noah woke up at, in his words
"Six-Zero -Four", I woke up at Seven-Zero-Zero, so he had time to open up Miriam's lap top and Google "Noah" and "AAA", apparently he's a budding narcissist who might require road-side assistance, of course I told his mother he Googled "Boobies" and "Bum Bums", we had some pancakes at Soundbites, then went to the shop. We were the first ones there (I know I said this would be quick, doesn't using commas as the only punctuation make it seem quick? Alright, I'll knock it off.).

The kids ran amok, riding every bike in the store, I thought they might get a kick out of our massive hydraulic lift (which oddly enough factors into tomorrow's post as well)we use to take bikes up to the warehouse, Lyla was with me, but Noah wanted to do his own thing. He was not to be swayed. I had to get creative. "Hey Noah, the lights are still out, that means that the dogs might still be loose". "What dogs?". "At night, when we close the doors, we let the dogs out. They're these two HUGE Doberman Pinschers with big teeth and glowing red eyes". Lyla piped in "What're their names?". "Siegfried and Roy".

Noah fell in line, right on my heels as we went over to the lift.

I was going to tell you some other stuff but I ran into Big Dan B. on the way home tonight, and after chasing him up the Arlington Water Tower a couple times, I am shattered. That guy can spin out some watts so smoothly, it looks like he ain't workin' at all. If he hadn't snapped his seatpost, he would be The King Of Burlingame, without a doubt.

-t

Slump Day

Last Thursday I went out for another Solo Epic. Yes Epic. I said it, I'll say it again EPIC. We just don't use that word enough anymore. We also don't chest bump as a greeting enough anymore. "Hi Gramma" - Bump! "Oh God, someone call the paramedics". Maybe four and a half hours on The Superfly. Thursdays were my long road ride day, but since I got the Superfly set up and the trails have cleared, I haven't been able to help myself. Every chance I get, I'm out on that bike, riding all over the place just to ride. Training-wise I'm not sure if it makes sense. I don't really care. Enough road already, I want to play bikes.

This ride was another of those over the river and through the woods to god freakin' knows where rides. I had to get to the shop to attend to some very serious business. That leg of the ride was primarily road, although I did throw in some urban trials. There will possibly be a video to accompany this post sometime in the (probably distant) future showcasing how awesomely I suck at trials. I spent far too long messing around at the shop, leaving with about two hours of daylight remaining.

I talk a lot about all the music I listen to to keep me sane on long road rides but I on the mountain bike I almost can't tolerate music at all. I knew I'd be out for a long time and a good amount of that time would be spent spinning my brains out (Shut up, it's all relative, some of us just have less brains to spin out. Don't make fun of me just because I have a placard on my bike that allows me to park closer to the coffee shop than you) on the road. I was in a hurry so I even loaded up my ipod with my all time favorite, 150 song, nearly five hour comp, No Thanks! the '70s punk Rebellion. And even that couldn't keep me happy. For whatever reason, I prefer silence on the knobby bike.

From there I explored some trails along The Charles River around Hemlock Gorge and down Quinobequin Road. Nothing to write home about, but something to write on the blog about how they aren't something to write home about. Yes, that sentence doesn't quite work, does it?

I picked up some Fisherman's trails along The Charles in Waltham. These trails don't really go anywhere and no discerning mountain bike rider would ever consider them a destination, but string 'em together with some other stuff and you're a stoked puppy.

And Here's the funny thing. Half way through the latter part of this ride I bonked terribly. I had the camera on so whenever I had the thing running and some tasty single-track was thrown in front of me I started riding like a freakin' idiot. No one wants to watch a helmet cam video of someone poking along the trail. Except maybe my Mom...because it wouldn't make her quite so nervous. This practice quickly sapped my stores. The amount of food I'd normally ingest on a steady road endurance ride was nowhere near adequate.

I still had a Metric Butt-Load of trail to cover before I could hang my helmet so I veered about a mile off course in either direction to scare up some supplies. A little Liquor store on Trapelo road was the best I could do. So I drank a Forty of Old E and ate some Beef Jerky and Hot Fries and I was on my way.

No. I'm not quite that fucked in the head, nor I am I that dietarily punk rock. That set up makes the fact that my emergency meal consisted of Coke and Cream Filled Chocolate Easter Eggs seem pretty reasonable. Hey, they did the trick, I went from being useless, to being able to pedal my bike with some feeling, to kind of rockin' it again. So much so that given the choice between turning for home as the sun set or taking on more trail, I opted for the latter.

That went well...for a minute. Then I took a left when I should have taken a right and found myself over a half an hour from home, half an hour after sunset, with no lights. Dur. Here I chose to ride down the powerlines toward Horn Pond in Woburn, figuring it was safer than riding the road in the pitch dark. As I rolled down the powerlines I caught something out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was a Red-Tailed Hawk. Which would have been cool. Common...but cool. It was, in fact, a Great Horned Owl. It came to a perch on a leafless tree, staring right at me, it did that head thing, the pivoting in circles thing, it didn't make a sound, I did, I let out a hoot, not like and Owl, like an imbecile who was really, really stoked to see and Owl. Then it flew away.

After that I picked my way blindly through the Forest, spun home down the Mystic Lakes, and came home to find Mountains of Indian Food awaiting me. Such a perfect day.

Trek Rep Bill dropped these by the shop today. I quietly slunk back outside and removed the Banana I had just put in his tailpipe.

Weird, Barbaric Polish Duke
(Who no one in their right mind would marry their Princess-daughter off to)
of Burlingame

It's alright, I'm partly Polish. I can make jokes like that, but because I'm only partly Polish I have to leave out part of the joke...in this case, the funny part.

Where was I? Something about terrifying driving and not warming up. Sound about right? So we actually got there pretty quick (flashback to two sentences ago when I was talking about terrifying driving). Not enough time to pre-ride, but time enough to put our clothes on at a full sprint, number up, and check out the first part of the course. Looked good, very fun and techy. Boded well for an out of shape (I'm just going to weave my excuses for why I sucked like a big sucking suck into this post in a sort of subliminal way, therefore you will come away from this story saying "Well, that douche bag Thom P. did pretty well...considering he had more chips stacked against him than that guy on the news who got killed by that overturned Pringles truck". What's that? That's the wrong kind of chip? Well then a joke about an overturned Pringles truck wouldn't make much sense now would it. Way to parade on my piss.) dude with some rusty Bike-Ninja skills.

I seriously almost forgot to finish that sentence after the parentheses.

As I was saying, before I so rudely interrupted myself, Dan B., Linnea, and I rode the first section of the course. By the time we got back it was nearly go time. I decided to roll to the car which was a mile from the start to ditch my wind-vest and extra tube and to put some warm up balm on my butt-ass-white legs. Mike said I didn't have enough time. He was right. I slept maybe seven hours in the two days leading up to the race combined. I sprinted back from the car, missing my start time by two minutes. And I didn't get to race. The End.

Lies and craziness. They were running late and I had time to spare. No problem. Except for the fact that my legs were torn to shreds from the four hour ride I did Thursday, where I bonked and had to eat cream filled chocolate easter eggs and drink Coke until I regained stasis. The guy doing the starts, where he actually held your saddle while you clipped in, was hilarious. Hamming it up and taking the piss out of everyone in his pronounced Gaelic lilt. "Aye, Thommy Parsons, everyone's favorite bike rider...Thommy, I love them wee pink tassels you have on yer bike there lad". And I was off.


The big (to my legs) gear of 34 X 17 felt good to me through the tech stuff. But soon I ran out of tech stuff and entered the drag strip straightaways which would typify the remainder of the course with a few exceptions. I knew Johnny Bold and Kevin Hines were out there behind me somewhere, lighting those sections ablaze as they searched for more gears on their bikes. Super gears.

Quickly I began picking off the riders ahead of me. Which surprised me because the way I was feeling saturday afternoon, after the NEMBA trail day at The Fells, I was pretty sure I had The Black Plague. False Alarm! I had this insane idea that I would see Rooter. I wouldn't even end up putting a minute into him in the end. Remember how much faster the kid got between the 07 and 08 'Cross seasons? Watch out Root 66 Series, IBC has him on a doping regime you wouldn't believe. We first created an actual Centaur by combining the preserved DNA of the deceased race horse, Secretariat and the DNA of Eddy Merckx. Over the past few months we have been blood doping Reuter with the super-blood of this creature. I told you you wouldn't believe it.

I'm lost. I forgot that race reports are actually really, really boring. Triple arrow fast-forward, no, f-that, quintuple arrow fast forward...and I'm standing at the finish line with Colin and IBC's Dan B., who'd ridden the whole dam race, just about, with his seatpost snapped off, on a single speed. He stood for twenty five minutes. And he beat lots and lots of people. It was cold, so we rolled back to the parking lot where we tried to lay plans for a post race ride with the the likes of Chris Gagnon, Kurt Johnson, and Rob Stine. People I had different time lines so Colin, Linnea, and I ended up rolling to Arcadia where Mr. Stine showed us his personal playground. Those trails are sweet! It is no wonder the guy is a Technical-Gorilla-Jedi-Wizard. Most XC courses don't let a guy show off the fact he can cleanly J-hop a two foot high log in his sleep.

In summary: Great race, I'll do it again next year, especially with the added bonus of Rob's trails being nearby, Tim Horton's is better than Dunkin Donuts, getting a doughnut as part of your sandwich combo is awesome, I ate bacon with every meal Sunday, I drank, perhaps a record amount of coffee that day, in possibly related news I also peed more times throughout the course of the day than the word "Fuck" is used in the film Scarface and Goodfellas - combined, The Superfly was wicked! When you haven't breathed really f-in hard for months and months and months and then you go out and breath really f-in hard for half an hour you don't feel too too good, you can do anything for ten minutes but you can't do some things for more than twenty minutes, I got second in my age class and won a sweet full face Bell helmet which I will wear to Highland when I go up there with my Remedy, and...what else? Oh, I saw Gewilli stopped on the side of the trail during the race updating his blog. Now that's commitment.

1.)Rob shows us the way 2.) Collum searches for the precious 3.) "There can be no question, my dear Watson, of the value of exercise before breakfast."

I'm pretty sure Sherlock Holmes was talking about racing your bike before going to Tim Horton's.

Oh ya, oops! Cutler Park doesn't open officially until NEXT WEEK. So yes, big , I say BIG Cutler Park ride, on the actual opening day, Wednesday April 15th 6 PM, 71 Needham St. Newton. No ride this Wednesday though.

(Not The) King of Burlingame

First race of the season, time to work the bugs out in more ways than one. I think that's all I've got. I'm attempting to write in the morning here, not normal, maybe I need to wait for the coffee to kick in. Alright, I'll begin doing a "and then...and then" race report and see if something happens. I've got less than an hour to do this too, also not normal. And...go!

During the off-season, Sundays have been a day of partial rest for me. At least I get to sleep in, working off the huge sleep debt I have amassed over the week. It was tough to break out of that and wake up at 4:45AM, in the dark, to go to a race which was two hours away and would likely last a mere half hour. We did plan on riding with some people afterward to make it worth the trip. 4:45, I wish I'd slept that "late". I was up at 2:45. When sleep-deprived my math skills are the first to go, this includes being able to tell time apparently. I looked at the clock, it said 2:45, I was supposed to get up at 4:45, I "did the math" and figured I was only up an hour early and began drinking coffee. Once the coffee started to do its thing I realized I was up a solid two hours early. Oops. So I watched an episode of Angel and drank the first three cups of what would amount to about a gallon of coffee that day.

Then I went to pick up Reuters and Linnea. Cary Fridrich had bailed on us, he sent his cancellation email as I was waking up, it was this drunken slur of an email too, "Sozzle, blozzle, flozzum, I'm tired, I don't wanna ride in a car for two hours to race my bike for a half hour, burp! Hic!". He was obviously hammered but he was making a whole lot sense.

"He's using every bit of the road Paul. Well, that was a bit too close for comfort!"

Then we were driving down the highway, we were about half an hour into our trip, cutting it close for getting a pre-ride in anyway when Colin realized that he had left his bag of EVERYTHING in the house...or his car...or on the sidewalk. So I turned the family fun wagon around and began driving against traffic down 128 back to Somerville at 85 MPH. This blew our chance of a pre-ride but with a little more focus behind the wheel and a little more pressure on the gas pedal, we arrived in time for something that resembled a warm up if you tilted your head slightly and squinted your eyes enough.

Alright, this is uncharacteristically ridiculous of me but I am out of writing time for today and I must got to work, therefore I absolutely must do this:

To be continued...

Oh wait, before I go. We're doing Cutler Park rides out of the Newton shop now, all NEMBA sanctioned and everything, 6PM Wednesday night, no lights required, we'll just ride until we run out of daylight. Check the IBC event calendar for details and come on out!

Hey Race of Truth,
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ready to kick—your—freakin—ass

EFTA's King of Burlingame Time Trial is this Sunday. It is an off-road time trial but like Greg Lemond before me, I am an innovator, an early-adopter of controversial technologies. I will likely be the only rider at the event utilizing Aerodynamic equipment heretofore unseen in the realm of mountain bike racing.

Photo Cred: Jason WG

I went over to The Shop today for a fitting on my Superfly, which has been adapted into a mean Time Trial Machine. Master bicycle fitter, Craig Gaulzetti worked with me. We came to the conclusion that for my purposes running the TT helmet in reverse was actually much more effective.

Photo Cred: Jason WG

The IBC wind tunnel came in handy today. Kind of a bold move, buying a quarter million dollar wind tunnel in this economic climate but I believe it will pay off. I also believe in Yetis and Zombies.

Photo Cred: Jason WG

The Bontrager Aeolus wheels coupled with Mud-X tires. A winning combination. The Mud-X is my, as they say, "Go to tire". It doesn't roll too bad on hard pack or tarmac and when the going gets gnarly it hooks up better than anything.

Meanwhile back in reality...

Got a package in the mail from Endless Bikes, the official cog sponsor of Big Bikes. Hey, Lance Armstrong doesn't even have a cog sponsor. Make that two things I have that he doesn't. The new Kick Ass Cog design looks great. I threw a new 17t on the back, on the ride after my Tri-fitting it felt great too.

Left to right, top to bottom:

a.) with theses new additions to my Russian-Nuclear-Weapons-stockpile-during-the-cold-war-esque arsenal of cogs, I now have an array ranging from 15 up to 22t. As I'm sure you'll be hearing a lot more about in the future. b.) I was all suited up and ready to go when I remembered I had to swap out my cog and spacers. I'm like a Golden Retriever after it's already seen you grab the leash off the coat rack once my bibs are on. Just working on my bike my heart rate's at 150BPM. c.) Endless Bikes also sent along their Fibonacci Spacer Kit. The old, very, very pro set up of mis-matched 9 and 10 speed cassette spacers, rescued from customers discarded drivetrains was pretty sweet, but these things are a whole lot sweeter. And lighter. And they look really nice and clean. d.) That's them, the old spacers. Nice eh? You can have them for one can of Dale's Pale Ale. OK, half a can, but nobackwashsies.

By the way (Longhand for BTW) more people tuned into Big Bikes than ever before yesterday. I guess I should have horribly traumatic, emotionally scarring pranks pulled on me more often. Can somebody say "Schadenfreude"? Because I can't. My German pronunciation is scheisse.

April Fools!

Ha, ha very funny. Jesus...ugh...this was a good one.

Last year Miriam (my fiance) tried to get me with a bike related April Fools joke. There were holes in her plot, and I went from skeptically intrigued to outright dubious within minutes. This was the email she hit me with:

Dear valued customer:

To kick off the 2008 road/mountain bike season we are starting our 1st annual bike giveaway. Your name was selected as one of the last 5,000 people to contact Trek Bikes. To win your 2008 Madone 5.2 Pro (road bike) or Top Fuel 9.8 (mountain bike), you must be one of the first 5 people to respond to this email. This is no gimmick. The only "string attached" is that the winners of this prize must commit to 4 public appearances (in your region) and participate on our Trek Blog,writing about your adventures on the bike. Please do not respond if a) you don't want either of the 2 bikes offered OR b) if you are unwilling to make the public appearances and blog entries.

Reply Quick and Good Luck!

Waterloo, Wisconsin
Trek Bikes
http://www.trekbikes.com/us/en/
801 W Madison St
Waterloo, WI 53594

My reply was:

"Hi, I'd sure love that bike!"

Just on the off chance it wasn't a total load of crap.
She did make it look pretty pro with the official looking Trek Bikes signature, but there was one problem...the email address it emanated from was:
trekbikegiveaway@gmail.com
Made up. Trek doesn't use gmail addresses. That's for sure. The jig was up.

That was then, this is now. She must have spent the year at some sort of Super Secret Ninja-Jedi-Prankster training School. I was wondering what all those late nights were about. This is the email I got just a little earlier tonight from Bill Hand, IBC's Outside Trek Rep:

Hey Thom,

I am writing with some very unfortunate news. There is an impending recall of all 2009 Superflys. We have recently learned of several instances of a catastrophic delamination failures at the head and downtube joint. Obviously due to the seriousness of this type of defect, immediate action is required. We have been advised from Trek to instruct all Superfly owners to not ride this bike under any circumstance. Luckily production was limited, so getting in touch with all current owners should not be too big a problem. This situation just came to my attention earlier today and we have not had a chance to talk with shop management yet. Trek/Gary Fisher is planning an official release of information to all dealers by the end of the week, but as a personal friend, I wanted to get word out to you asap. I know the race season is upon you and I don’t want you suffering the same fate as a couple of other riders. I am hoping that you can keeps this under wraps until we can properly notify Gregg and other shop managers. I will be in later this week to discuss warranty replacement options. We will not be able to provide you with another Superfly as the issue has yet to be resolved, but we will do our best to get you on a ride that makes you almost, if not equally as happy. Look for a new and improved model for 2010! I am in meetings the rest of the day, but shoot me an email so I know you received word. I will sleep better knowing you aren’t out there riding that bike. I will call tomorrow to see when you are in to talk about a replacement bike.

Thanks for your understanding


Bill


Let me try to describe the runaway roller coaster of emotions I went through over the very few minutes Miriam allowed me to swing in the breeze for. I was devastated, honestly. Maybe this will sum it up. After staring glassy eyed at my monitor, my chest tightening, my breath becoming shallow (I'm not exaggerating here) I said to Miriam "I have some really bad news, I mean, no one died...but it's pretty bad". My Superfly being recalled - Someone dying. Scale just ever so slightly tipping toward death.

This line hurt the most:
"we will do our best to get you on a ride that makes you almost, if not equally as happy".

Equally happy? Other ride? There is no other ride! No other ride! BWAAH! Oh, the places my mind went. So dark. I will try to list them.

Shit, what am I going to do? I'm racing Sunday, I have to ride it. No, I'll have to get the Ferrous race ready again. damn. My shoulder's still jacked, the rigid fork will kill me. I'll get a suspension fork, can I get it in time? I really don't want to spend that money. Shit, what bike could replace the Superfly. The Rig is alright, but the Superfly, so light, so stiff, so much better. Argh, I was going to go on a four hour epic and stop by the shop tomorrow and do some silly, crazy crap with the bike,
it was going to be so entertaining for the readers of Big Bikes, it really was, now what? NOW WHAT? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

I'm not kidding, except for kind of with the last part, not the
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!
part, the part before that. But there is still some truth there, you'll have to wait and see. Maybe Monday for that, I have to drink some more red wine and try to get my heart to stop palpitating.

Explanation. Apparently Miriam talked to a few people who helped add credibility to the scenario. These are the folks who were complicit in this crime:

- Jason Paige and Jason Girouard for giving up Bill Hand's email. I hate guys named Jason.
- Pete Verdone for providing the technical sounding jargon. I'm going to start sending people Xmas presents this year. Pete is getting poop.
- Bill Hand for sending the email, which Miriam scripted 100% herself, he just sent it along. Bill, next time you stop by the shop, you're getting a banana in your tailpipe.

Thanks guys, you really got me. How shall I ever repay you (bastards).

I have a feeling this is going to be one of those stream of semi-consciousness nights

A 10 1/2 hour workday coupled with 2 1/2 hours of training'll do that to ya. For some reason I'm not that whupped. Must be all the chocolate milk...or the Larry David sandwich I had for lunch. Pastrami with Swiss, coleslaw, and Russian dressing on Rye. So much for the whole yogurt, apple, banana plan today. Without that sandwich in the tank I don't think I would have gone for the second half of my double-session on the Arlington Water Tower tonight.

Doing reps up the water tower at night is actually pretty cool. You get a killer view of the Boston Skyline as you crest it each time and the traffic is really light. just watch the potholes on the 40MPH descent. I had a thought while I was out there. Yes I'm riding a road bike, but it's a bike and riding a bike is always better than not riding a bike...even if it's a road bike. Riding a road bike up and down hills is really the most compelling thing about road riding to me anyway. Bright side. The soundtrack was good too. Thievery Corporation is excellent to listen to while riding at night. It pays to have hip young friends to tell you about such good musical things.

Ah, another good thing. I cleaned my bike. It was in a sad, sad state. Sandy like a beach and greasy like a bag of onion rings. I threw on some new (to me) parts too. I work at a shop where things like perfectly good 9 Speed (yes, 9 Speed, and eight too many still) Dura Ace cassetttes and chainrings and partially used 10 speed DA chains are discarded. Looking down at the clean space between the cassette cogs and the space between the arms of the crank spider is a happy thing for me. Feeling a less clapped out chain engage less clapped out cogs ain't a bad feeling either.

While I was riding up the hill along route 2, staring at me shiny drivetrain I recalled something Levi Leipheimer said about Alberto Contador's climbing. I won't put it in quotes because it's half-remembered from a T.V. interview but he said something about how Contador is un-effected by gravity, how he pedals uphill with no dead-spot in his stroke. I thought about that while I pedaled but I still felt the gravity and the dead-spot. I'll keep trying.

OK, one more thing, then I go. I was over catching up on The Dickiness this morning, he had a link to Fat Cyclist's "Live blog" building of his Superfly. I was enthralled as it related to Superflies. What I found was that the mechanic he had building up his bike was none other than Troy Michaud. One of the two guys who I would say truly inspired me to dedicate my racing life to single speeding. In fact I wrote about him and some other awesome single-speedin' dudes a while back. Just thought I would mention it here instead of commenting over on Fatty's blog. Who the hell reads all 8 billion comments on his posts anyway? I am so glad I have such an immensely unpopular blog so I don't have to worry about such things.

I am a man of constant sorrow, I've seen trouble all my day...
like having to ride road bikes and not getting as many comments on my blog as Fat Cyclist.