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StanceWorks 2014 – My Year in PhotosMike Burroughs
It's all but unbelievable that Andrew and I can say that we've been at this for six full years now. What began as little more than a hobby – a place to share photos taken during our weekends as car enthusiasts – has spiraled into something that stands as a major chapter in each of our lives. Six years of excitement on four wheels has taken us across the globe, given us once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and taught us some valuable lessons as both business partners and friends.
The 2009 StanceWorks Cross-Country Road Trip – Part IMike Burroughs
In 2009, Andrew Sylvia and I set out on a cross-country road trip to end the summer with a grand finale: 7,000 miles of driving spent with friends, car lovers, and family throughout the USA. With Rusty, the now-famous E28 as our chariot, we had planned on a trip that would "redefine epic," as we put it. We were on a quest to create a journey for everyone that wanted to follow our progress, and more importantly, we were on a journey to make life-long friends along the way.
StanceWorks 2013 – My Year in PhotosMike Burroughs
2013 has ended as quickly as it arrived. With 2013 came numerous opportunities: some expected, and others a complete surprise. We've put more under our belt than ever before, and Andrew and I are excited to put our fifth year of StanceWorks in the books. 2014 looks to be a better year than any previous, as we approach it with the same grassroots mentality StanceWorks has become known for.
I had to push my own limits. I had built enough cars that utilized wheels and suspension to achieve the basis of their aesthetic. My E9 was a smash hit and turned what felt like every head it came across. It was easy to revel in the success of the car – the constant kind words and appreciation I received for doing something somewhat "outside the box.
StanceWorks 2012: My Year in PhotosMike Burroughs
With 2013 upon us, and more ahead of us than ever before, Andrew and I have once again taken the chance to look back on the past twelve months to see where we've come from and where the year has taken us. The past year has taken us to places we had previously only dreamed of going, ranging from factories and paddocks to garages and secluded parking lots for the perfect photo shoot location.


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27 year old woman | Fridley, MN, USA | Seeking men 25-32 within 50 miles of Minneapolis, MN
Love always wins.
Well, like most people I thought I'd meet someone in college or at work. Unfortunately for me, I chose a job in HR: aka, few guys in my classes and really not that appropriate to date coworkers. So here I am. Myself? I'm just a normal girl. Grew up in a small town and now live here in the cities. I like going to MN wineries and breweries. I enjoy baking, reading, relaxing, and dancing (hello Zumba!). I love to travel and have a goal to go to one new destination every year. I appreciate Minnesota and its four seasons. I can't imagine living someplace without snow and cold for part of the year! I'm looking for a guy who is laid back. Someone who can enjoy a quiet night in or a fun night out at a new restaurant or bar. Because I come from a tight knit family, I'd like to find a guy who is close to his family as well. Some random facts about me: - I love history. Historical fiction is my favorite genre. - I'm an early bird. I can't sleep past 7:30 on the weekends. - I enjoy photography. While I don't have a nice camera, I try my best with my point and shoot. - I'm a planner and rarely late.
Book club , Coffee and conversation , Cooking , Dining out , Hobbies and crafts , Movies/Videos , Museums and art , Exploring new areas , Playing cards , Travel/Sightseeing , Wine tasting
MN vineyards, local trivia nights, Duluth
University of Minnesota, Twin Cities Campus, Minneapolis, MN
Arrested Development, Parks and Rec, Modern Family, Mad Men, The West Wing, House of Cards, Downton Abbey, Harry Potter, Amazing Race, trying new restaurants, planning exciting vacations
The Bronze Horseman (thanks to that I'm going to be reading a lot of Russia history now)
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|5'10" (177cms) to 8'11" (271cms)
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Keeping Up With Kim
A full two years before they were officially a couple, Kanye dropped in on an episode of Kim's reality show Keeping Up With the Kardashians. In the October 2010 episode, Kim was dating Halle Berry's ex Gabriel Aubry and Kanye had just ended things with Amber Rose. The fact that the notoriously private star was willing to appear on a reality show should have been our first clue that these two were more than just friends.
(Photo: E! Networks)
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Clawing turkeys
November 23, 2012 § 10 Comments
Iron Mike and I knew it was going to be bad, and not just because we made our first pre-ride pee stop at the elegant planter and walkway entrance in front of the Police Department.
"Can we piss here?" I asked, incredulously.
"Sure. Do it all the time."
"What about the cops?"
"You see any cops?"
"I see a big entrance to the police department that we're standing in front of."
"I asked if you see any cops," he said, casually uncoiling the hose and helping spruce up the vegetation.
I had to admit I didn't see any, so I followed suit.
We'd gotten to the start of the Holiday Ride early. It was chilly but the sun had already burned off the mist. It was going to be a perfect day. Every idiot in the South Bay with a bike would be there. Rather than start with the foaming crowd we kept pedaling. After about ten minutes they caught us on Vista del Mar. Rather, they rolled over us like a tsunami.
Did you say THREE HUNDRED?
Remember, this is an unorganized, unsponsored, casual ride that has been happening for years on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Memorial Day, July the Fourth, and Labor Day. But whatever the critical mass was, it somehow got reached. Well over three hundred turkeys strutted out of the woodwork to test their legs in the race up Mandeville Canyon.
And a test it would be. Stathis Sakellariadis, Tony Manzella, Rahsaan Bahati, Diego Binatena, Dan Cobley, Greg Leibert, Cory Williams, Kristabel Doebel-Hickock, and a slew of Helen's strongmen were all there spoiling for a fight.
Which was fine and as it should be.
What was not fine, and what was not as it should have been, was the outright war for position that began the moment the swollen cancer left Manhattan Beach. Going down Mt. Chevron, some idiots braked for the reflector dots and took their feet out of the clips. The idiots following too closely and watching something other than what was in front hit and went down.
No one cared, apparently because this was a race to the death.
I'm not easily frightened
Well, actually, I am. I'm a cowardly, fearful, trembling wussmaster when it comes to crashing, pain, danger, or getting hurt. And the second we were overtaken by the cancer, my terror level went through the roof.
People who don't race, who have never raced, who have no intention of racing, and who wouldn't know how to pin a number on a mannequin were fighting for position like pros approaching the Tranche d'Fuckenberg. Tiny little space between two bikes? The Turkey Pros shot through.
Both lanes filled, curb to center lane? A Turkey Pro would jump the yellow dots, sprint into oncoming traffic, advance ten positions, and dive back in.
Can't move up by riding in the wrong lane? Watch the Turkey Pros hop the right-hand curb and race up the sidewalk. That nice lady pushing a pram with twins will understand later how important it was for them to be properly positioned, even though she's drizzling terror pee now.
Only a couple of people figured out the solution, one being Miles Irish. Miles bulled to the very front and kept the gas on all the way to San Vicente while Turkey Pros crashed and burned behind him. Downside? The plumes of smoke coming out of his ears once the road tilted up. Upside? He never planned on winning on Mandeville anyway.
Towards the front, but never on it
The main ploy behind the Turkey Pros was to hop, squeeze, slide, and push their way towards the front, but to never actually get into the wind. It's a clever tactic worthy of a protected Euro pro in a big race…but it's a wanker move par excellence for the Holiday Ride.
When we hit the left turn on San Vicente, Hair looked over. "Why the serious face?" he laughed. Dude fucking always laughs, is fearless.
"I'm trying not to crash."
Hair laughed. "Better spend that energy trying to hang on."
And he had a point, because when we hit Mandeville Canyon, Josh Alverson opened up the throttle. Tree Perkins followed, with me glued to Tree's wheel. I held the speed for thirty seconds or so, then swung over. Done.
As the wankoton blew by, I counted. For ten solid minutes riders passed me. I stopped counting at 298, and there were dozens who'd never even turned up Mandeville as well as dozens who had u-turned and gone back before passing me.
Meanwhile, back at the Center of the Known Universe
Long before I reached the summit a cadre of South Bay wankers including Joe, Gus, Marc, and Doug came blasting by. They had made the sensible choice not to wait for the endless stream struggling up the hill, and to ride back in a smaller, safer group.
For some reason, however, the closer they got to CotKU, the more ridiculous things got. Dudes who hadn't been in the same zip code for Mandeville honors were now gunning it, devil-take-the-hindmost, to be first in line for coffee.
The only thing that got in the way of their fun was a Cadillac Escalade, and although they hit it full tilt, the 4,000-pound vehicle amazingly didn't crumple from the impact of the flesh-and-bone-wrapped-around-some-plastic-tubes.
It did lose a tail light, whereas Carey D.'s entire frame broke. Doug busted a brake, and Marc got an ouchy on his saddle bag.
Back at CotKU they compared notes, trying to understand why their forceful bodies hadn't been able to easily thrust aside the Escalade. No one could figure it out until King Harold, who happens to be an engineer, explained it to them.
"Mass times velocity," he began, as the wankers' eyes glazed over at the word "mass."
Then he re-started. "Look here, dorks." Everyone looked at his foot, where a doodlebug was trundling by. He lifted his foot and lowered it quickly on the hapless bug.
"You, dorks, are the bug. The Escalade is the foot. Get it?"
A light went on in the formerly befuddled and confused faces of the crash victims. "You mean…?" said one.
"That if it's a witch…" said another.
"And it's heavier than a duck…" said a third.
"Then we burn it?" said a fourth, as the other three nodded vigorously.
King Harold shook his head. "No, no, no," he said. "I mean that this Holiday Ride thing we just did…"
"Yes?" they asked in a chorus.
"It's perfect for you. Just perfect. See you on Christmas Day."
I used to race
September 6, 2012 § 20 Comments
Yesterday night I was dragging ass through the parking garage and this dude said, "Good ride?"
"Yep. I'm pretty whipped, though."
"Where'd you go?"
"I did the race out at Eldo."
"Oh, a race? I used to race."
"Yeah, back when they had the Olympic village, I was a track monster. Raced the old velodrome."
He didn't look very monsterish. "Ever try the new one in Carson?"
"No, I just lost interest. I used to be an animal, though."
I couldn't help thinking about Paul Ryan and how he, too, had been fast when he was young. Yeah.
The main two reasons people quit racing or never start
Aside from the fact that it's pretty stupid, the main reason is fear of crashing. All it takes is one good crash to make you realize that the risk-benefit analysis is all whomperjawed over on the side of risk, and not much more than $25 or $30 in race "winnings" on the side of benefit.
Crashing and getting hurt is scary, and it's a given that if you race, you're going to crash. So, like, I get that.
The other reason people quit racing is because they are afraid of losing. They've built themselves up so much on Strava, or on their solo rides, or on their beatdowns with their fellow wankers, that it's too intimidating to actually go toe-to-toe with people who don't give a rat's ass about your motor-assisted KOM and who will happily pound you into oblivion.
It's better to stay comfortable as a coulda-been contender than a real-life lump of pack fodder.
There are a whole bunch of other reasons that people don't race, and they're all valid, but Fear of Crashing and Fear of Losing are far and away the top two.
My best three races of 2012
On the flip side, there is really only one significant reason that people do race: They're idiots.
As my road racing season mercifully came to a close yesterday, I'm happy to say that it couldn't possibly have ended any better. On Sunday I raced the 45+ Elderly Gentlemen's Tender Prostate Category at Dominguez Hills. The field of 54 riders was greatly reduced from the first crits of the year, which were often at or near the 100-idiot limit. Many of the heaviest hitters were out replenishing the Depends, or getting their dentures refitted, but a healthy contingent including national and state champion Rich Meeker showed up to fight for the day's honors.
In typical fashion, a few laps into the race the winning break rolled up the road. I was mid-pack, marveling at all the bicycles and how they never seemed to crash even though they were all so close together. I think about this often. All those moving parts! Each bike guided by a separate idiot of highly questionable handling skills! Yet through each turn they swoop and swerve and curve and slow and speed, always within a few inches, and hardly ever bounce along the pavement in a shower of carbon scraps and shredded skin.
It's generally at these times, when I'm wondering if this kind of mass communication is what happens when flocks of shorebirds fly in tight formation at astounding speeds on moonlit nights, that something significant in the race happens, like a break, which it did. Of course, I had no idea, because what goes on "Up there" has nothing in common with what's happening "Back here."
When the lead shorebird squawks
As I was wondering about Western Sandpipers, a dude in a SPY-Blue kit came whizzing up on the left. It was my teammate, Johnny Walsh. "C'mon, Zeth!" he yelled.
"Wonder why he's yelling at me? And 'come on' where? And why?" It was quite cozy back there in mid-shorebirdville, and the nasty pace at which he passed me suggested lots of un-shorebirdy pain.
Then I noted that on his wheel was Alan Flores, our team leader and Dude Who Doesn't Do Stupid Shit in Races. I'm still unsure why, but I hopped on his wheel. The next time I looked back, we were clear of the field. "Where are we going?" I wondered. Then I looked up. Around the bend was a break. "Wow!" I thought. "I wonder if we'll bridge?"
Johnny just went harder, and my legs just hurt more. When he sat up, we were on the back of the break. He nodded, legs blown, and drifted back to the field. "Wow!" I thought. "So that's how you do it! What happens now?"
What's with all these colorful sleeves?
My temporary joy at being in the break was immediately muted as I took roll. There was a dude with a stars-and-stripes thingy on his sleeve. That meant he was a national champion in something; probably not chess. There was another dude with a stars-and-stripes thingy…another non-chess national champion. There was a dude who looked a hell of a lot like Brett Clare, the dude who passed me in San Marcos like he was a Ferrari and I was a lamppost. Out of us eleven, there was only one complete flailer, and it was me. Everyone else looked pissed off and ready to go even faster.
Despite trying a series of moves that would later be described as "the silliest in the 2012 annals of SoCal crit racing," I miraculously didn't get dropped from the break and finished eleventh, my best placing of the year by far. Was it worth the $1,590.33 in entry fees? Yes. The $527.12 in gas? Yes. The risk to life and limb? Yes. The $15,982.12 in equipment/clothing/accessory purchases? Yes. The admission of personal failure every night when I looked in the mirror and said to myself, "Self, you're almost fifty but are still fascinated by riding a bicycle." Ummm, well, mostly yes.
Awesome race result #2
The following morning I celebrated Labor Day with two hundred other cyclists, many of whom appeared to be be on what was at least their second or even third full day after having learned how to ride. If this ride didn't frighten you, you were beyond hope, because it was terrifying.
Usually, in order to steer clear of the fat dude with the dangling buttcrack, or to avoid the yackety chick who thinks that the center of a fast-moving foolfest is the perfect place to turn her head to the side for minutes at a time, or to keep from getting rear-ended by the neo-neo-neo racer pro kid who's picked today to show off the $10k wheels with lightly glued tubulars, usually, I say, in order to avoid the certain death and injury resulting from riding near these knuckleheads and their next of kin, you have to get up to the top 20 or 30 riders and stay there.
Not on Monday.
No, sir, on Monday, the crazies had all gotten the Wankmeister memo that said, "Go to the Front!" and so, like crazies, they all went to the front. At the same time. Constantly.
The wankoton looked like the beach on a huge surf day, with massive swirls of raging dorkbreak foaming up to the front, followed by another series of churning idiots pushing up behind them, but the bozos in front, unable to drift back, created a fredtide, which ripped backwards through the wankoton, sucking the unwary back with them into the deathly perilous undertow, where victims such as Old George were crashed out and run over by people who didn't even know the thing they were rolling over was a live person.
Don't they know they belong in back?
I got to the front, the absolute front, and ran as many lights as I could, hoping that the bait of a speeding leader would draw at least a few of the worst wankers out into the intersection where they would be crushed and mutilated by speeding cross-traffic.
It didn't work, however, as the number of idiots careening down Mt. Chevron on Vista del Mar was so great that it clogged both lanes and spilled out into opposing traffic as well. Drivers were petrified and simply stopped, and who wouldn't if your windshield suddenly filled with a bearded, pony-tailed idiot wearing a vomit-spray jersey, gangly hairy legs poking out at right angles from the bike, spit and snot spewing from his face, and a barely-in-control-bike swerving crazily in and out of the lane?
This, of course, is the huge difference between racing and dorking: In a race, we wankers know that we belong in back. Our chance of winning isn't even mathematical, so the only reason to be in front is to either suffer more (not good), crash out the dudes who can actually ride (worse), or have one of the ride bosses push us into the curb (worst).
On a fredfest, without this natural policing of the weak and feeble, those who don't belong don't know that they don't belong, so they charge pell-mell to the front and create unforgettable mental tableaux such as when Ponytail Boy whipped a 30mph beeline for the curb at the bridge for the Marina bike path with Eddie W. on his wheel, only to decide at the very last second that nah, that ol' curb is too big to hop, so he veered off to the right, braking hard, and sending Eddie into one of his finest string of oaths, a string so foul that even the wankers fishing off the bridge were taken aback at the new and inventive string of expletives.
They mysteries of the universe
It was at San Vicente that Chaos Theory gave way to Hammer Theory. Somehow, the freaks and freds who laboriously pounded all the way to San Vicente began to thin out as the road, like the pace, tilted up. By the end of the first mile we had lost between fifty and a hundred idiots.
At the turn onto Mandeville, another huge contingent had vanished, and by the end of the climb it was a small group of fifty or so out of the original 200+ horde.
Where did they all go? Did they fall by the wayside, dead? Did they drag themselves, mostly lifeless, to the doors of the angry, cyclist-hating Mandeville residents, and beg for shelter or for a quick gunshot to the head to end their misery? Did they swerve into a bike shop and sell all their gear? Or were they simply vaporized by the pace?
In any event, on the non-race race to the top of Mandeville Canyon, I got fourth going up the climb, which is almost a best ever, and even managed to get it on video. Once this gets published, Jonathan Vaughters will likely be sending me my contract.
The lost city of El Dorado
After this signal accomplishment, on Tuesday I went over to Long Beach for the year's final running of the El Dorado crit series, which was held in honor of Mark Whitehead, the legendary Olympian, keirin pro, and track coach who died last summer at nationals in Frisco. Anything done in honor of "Meathead" is required to have, whatever else is on offer, the following three items:
- Cash prizes (to fight over in the parking lot after the race)
- Beer (to quickly stimulate the fighting)
- Controversy (to justfy #1 and #2)
A four-man breakaway left early in the race and collected the $100 cash primes on offer, cleverly working a combine to work together and share the loot. It would later turn out that in the chaos of the post-race awards ceremony someone claimed the money who allegedly wasn't in the break, a perfect controversy that Meathead would have met with both fists and a gang fistfight.
With three laps to go, Rahsaan Bahati took the reins in hand and closed down the 30-second gap in half a lap, bringing the bunch together for the finale.
Throughout the race there was a dude without a number who was constantly pissing me off with his numberlessness. He sure as hell could ride a bike, though, and each time the pack surged he easily kept the pace. The longer the race lasted, and the longer he lasted, the more pissed off I got. "Who does he think he is, crashing our race?"
Each time I thought that, he would put on another display of bike magic, squelching my urge to ride up and say something to him. "Dude can fucking ride a bike, sure enough."
With half a lap to go, all hell broke loose, with the wheelsuckers charging freshly to the fore, the fried wankers giving it their all to keep from getting dropped, the canny sprinters slotting into position, and the handful of spectators screaming what sounded like "Ugghhgooattlexphlllmzxooooo!" as we shot by at warp speed.
The magical moment when the wheels come off the cart
It's in these final moments of a bike race that you are living on the razor's edge of insanity, alone, but separated from the idiots all 'round you by nothing more than chance. It's shorebirdy, almost, with nothing making sense, yelling, grunting, hands pushing people out of the way, hunched shoulders squeezing wide bars between too-narrow gaps, narrow rubber strips of rubber slinging from side to side, and everyone thinking the same thing: "Don't fucking crash, but for fuck's sake hold the wheel, don't gap out, and go faster!"
The union of opposites, where the fear of catastrophe is perfectly blended with the thirst for meaningless glory, cancels out the risk of death with the benefit of knowing you've gone as hard as your spindly legs will carry you.
Then it was over, like sex, and I was shuddering across the line, cruising along as my lungs and legs and brain caught up with my heart, eventually pointing my bike into the parking lot where the banter had already begun: Who did what when to whom and man, that was HARD.
The dude without the number was laughing and backslapping with Steve Hegg and Johnny Walsh and Suze Sonye and Rahsaan, and I felt pretty stupid when I realized it, and felt even happier at having kept my stupid mouth shut: Nelson Vails don't need no fucking number.
A 15-minute video is worth an hour of excusifying
May 28, 2012 § 15 Comments
It's hard to explain to people what it's like riding with the leaders up the climb on the Holiday Ride. "Um, it's hard," or "Well, you see I was gassed and then Billy Boozles made a sweep up the right-side gutter while Arnie Aspartame swung off and then…"
Thanks to my new GoPro helmet cam, I got the chance to video the thing and let you see for yourself. Click here to watch the Mandeville Canyon climb all the way to the top with the leaders. Don't tell me that it's "blurry" or "fuzzy" or "dogshit quality video, dude."
It seems that I stuck my finger on the lens cover and smudged it. Still, remind me again, how much did you pay for this? Exactly.
My ride commentary, with video documentation, is below.
#1. The video don't lie
It's amazing how much people lie about what they did during a ride. By the time they get done, they've fabricated a narrative that is so distorted that you wonder if the dude telling you the story was in the same century as you, much less in the same breakaway.
This video quickly punctures some of the biggest whoppers that bubbled up immediately after the climb. G3 complained, after getting caught and dropped, that his teammates had chased him down.
They all denied it. Vehemently. "We wuz riding tempo so you could stay away!" "I'd never chase down a teammate!" "Some dudes from another team reeled you in, dude, I swear!"
G3 was brought back by a well-oiled machine consisting exclusively of his own teammates. I know it won't make you feel any better, Greg, but this is exactly how I feel when you chase me down on the Wheatgrass Ride, or when you chase me down at TELO, or when you drop me going up to the Domes. The only difference is that we're not teammates. On the other hand, I know you'd do it to me even if we were.
Plus, there was no way in hell you were going to solo the canyon vee. Unless, of course, your teammates hadn't chased you down, in which case, well, who knows?
#2. The dude taking the video is a wheelsuck deluxe
Yep. I sat on the whole way. Never took a pull. You'll see Surfer Dan look back a couple of times and invite me to take a turn. You'll see me refuse.
"Wow," you're thinking. "This is the guy who's always telling everyone to take a pull? What a douche."
As I like to say, "If the nozzle fits…"
I was gassed and too afraid of Surfer Dan to do anything other than suck wheel and pray that no one attacked hard enough to drop me, which is what usually happens. That's how it is when you're a wanker.
#3 The dude who won the hill is an even bigger wanker
Yeah. Sitting on your teammate for the entire canyon climb and then blasting by him with totally fresh legs after assisting with the earlier chase, catch, and drop of G3, who is also your teammate? What's up with that?
Answer, and I quote: "That's MY wall."
Those who don't know Tree well will know this much after watching this video: It's all about Strava. He will sit, chill, and torch anyone, teammates included, if it gets him closer to a Strava record. In this case, he didn't get the KOM, but he moved up the leaderboard to fourth. And he got the KOM for something called "Westridge to White Picket Fence." So there's that.
Attacking and dropping your teammate who tows you all the way to the end and being labeled a wanker is a small price to pay for an incremental gain on Strava.
Those of you who think this is just sour grapes because he blasted by me so fast and hard I couldn't have hung on with a tow rope…you're right! Of course, if I have to get my ass handed to me on a plate, Tree's my first choice as server, because even after I called out his wankage he smiled back and said, "Good effort out there, Wanky!" Some people are nice no matter what. Go figure.
#4. Dave Jaeger is a total badass
The dude is 51 years old. Remembers Armistice Day. Helped Caesar cross the Rubicon. Was one of the first users of the new invention, dirt. Nonetheless, he attacks the breakaway. Gets reeled in by Surfer Dan. Attacks again and dusts off the remaining hangers-on. Gets reeled in.
Still finishes with the break for fifth. Tells me after the ride, "You rode smart for once."
Me: "I wasn't riding. I was holding on for dear life."
#5. The real artillery was either home getting oiled or out doing a real race at CBR
Kalashnikov and G$ started the ride, which was about 150 strong, but parted company in Marina del Rey to go and do a real bike race instead of a kit parade w/15-minute hillclimb effort + frappucino at CotKU. Roadchamp was home, resting after a hard weekend of riding and putting the finishing touches on his afterburners for the state road race next weekend in Bakersfield. King Harold, Launch, Vapor, Critchamp, et al. were racing, placing, or winning.
#6. Tink is amazing
Check out the first part of the video where she winds up the pace and keeps the gas on. You can't see the wreckage in the rear because I'm too busy sucking wheel to look back and catch it with my helmet cam, but she's causing mayhem and destruction behind her. She sheared three minutes off her Mandeville PR and finished just after the first chase group. She now holds the QOM for Mandeville and sits 20th on the men's leaderboard. This girl is simply incredible.
#7. The camera makes your butt look fat
It's a 170-degree wide angle, and my nose is pretty much stuffed up your rear end, further magnifying the ginormousness of your hindquarters. Trust me, in real life your derriere is svelte, lean, muscled, and the stuff of magazine covers. It's the fault of the camera that we all look like candidates for a bovine butt porn shoot.
#8. Surfer Dan is a total badass
Yesterday he went up to NorCal and got 8th in the state road race. This morning he turned on the jets going up San Vicente and kicked most of the holidayers out the back. On Mandeville he ramped it up, led the vicious chase to reel in his teammate, chased down Jaeger twice, shrugged his shoulders when Wankmeister cowered in the rear, and drilled it all the way to the top. He was gracious and not in the least bit miffed by Tree's finish line antics or by my wheelsuckage, proving that the really good guys just go do their ride and never bitch about the result, while we wankers run home to our keyboard, uncork and savor a vintage 1876 whine.
South Bay Rides
May 10, 2012 § 2 Comments
So you're in the South Bay. Lucky dog! And you've got your bike…luckier dog! Here's a list of the standard rides, including a couple of the "top-secret don't fucking show up here" ones, which are, of course, the ones you should make a priority.
- Dearly Beloved Clusterfuck Of The Ages: The Donut Ride
Begun a long time ago in front of a Winchell's Donut Shop far, far away, the Donut Ride goes off every Saturday at 8:00 AM in the Riviera Village of Redondo Beach. 8:00 AM means "8:05 or 8:10 or whenever the group rolls out." It NEVER means "8:00 AM."
You have your own Donut Ride wherever you live, and this one is no different. Slow start, hammer up a hill, hammer on some flats, hammer along some some rollers, hammer up a hardass motherfucking 8-minute climb ("The Switchbacks"), stop, preen, let the wankers catch up, roll down the hill and then either climb back up from the other side or call it a day and hit the coffee shop.
This super-rad video was taken by local hammer Derek Brauch, beginning near Trump National and going all the way to the top of the Switchbacks. Watch 'em pop and fry!
- It can be an absolute beatdown, especially when local pros Sergio Hernandez, Rudy Napolitano, or visiting beasts like Mike Friedman or Tyler Hamilton show up.
- In good weather, which is most of the time, it's a huge group with lots of places to suck wheel and cower from the front.
- After ascending the Switchbacks, there are numerous ride variations tailored to your level of wankerdom, including a hard climb up from the Reservoir + Homes & Domes + Glass Church hammer & sprint + Via Zumaya. You'll be crushed if you eat the whole Donut. It's never sugar-coated.
- Best scenery of any Saturday ride, anywhere.
- It can be a total wankfest if the fast dudes are all off racing somewhere and nobody wants to pull.
- Stopping and preening is pretty stupid and cools you down prematurely.
- The LA Sheriff's Dept. and PV cops sometimes harass and endanger the group in the name of "safety."
- It's no fun getting kicked out of the back at Trump and flailing all the way to the top by yourself with some fat dude wearing sneakers and carrying a floor pump.
- If you're one of those people who thinks that everyone's shit smells bad except your own, it can be a real downer riding with ordinary humans, sitting as you are atop UCI world rankings.
- Twice-Weekly Ballbuster Before Work: New Pier Ride a/k/a NPR
This was originally the worst ride in the South Bay. It went along the bike path, meandered through parking lots, wandered over narrow bridges, perambulated along jogger trails, then turned into a series of mad, pell-mell dashes through a deadly gauntlet of traffic lights, stop signs, destroyed roads, and horrific morning traffic. That was the Old Pier Ride.
The New Pier Ride starts at the same place, the Manhattan Beach Pier (a/k/a Center of the Known Universe, "CotKU"), every Tuesday and Thursday, and rolls out promptly at 6:40 AM. "6:40 AM" may mean "6:38″ or "6:39." If you show up at 6:41, be prepared to chase and chase hard. The ride now skips the bike path, rolls through an alley of death for a mile or so, pops out onto Vista del Mar, keeps a fast tempo all the way to Pershing, and then is a complete hammerfest with four laps around Westchester Parkway. Don't ever do this ride and say "It wasn't very hard." That will prove you were nowhere near the front.
- Distinguish yourself here, and you'll likely get mentioned on the most influential bike blog in the universe.
- Guaranteed to get your heart rate up, and then some, before work.
- Huge group on most days, 70-80 riders, so lots of places to suck wheel and cower.
- No big hills, just one small bump on Pershing and on the Parkway.
- If you get dropped you can pick up the pack when they come by in the other direction. And get dropped again.
- Pros like Rahsaan Bahati, and local beatdown artists like Greg Leibert, Harold Martinez, Eric Anderson, John Tomlinson, Aaron Wimberly, and others will usually show up wearing their best pair of stomp boots.
- The post-coital coffee chill at the Center of the Known Universe, a/k/a the Starbucks at Manhattan Beach, is the apogee of all that is fun about being a marginally employed bike wanker. We sit. We joke. We check FB updates. We delay going to work. We soak in the sun. We slobber as the local talent slinks by. What's not to like?
- Distinguish yourself here, and you'll likely get mentioned on the universe's most influential bike blog.
- Too many places for the frail and the infirm to suck wheel and cower.
- Too many sprunters sit in and do nothing the entire time, then spank everyone in the sprunt.
- Unclear finishing line. Is it the beginning of the third traffic island? No one really knows, so it's usually a case of "raise your hands and declare victory wherever your legs give out."
- If you break free, there are numerous riders who never seem strong enough to go with you, but are always strong enough to chase you down.
- Occasional near-death traffic experiences.
- If You Show Up Uninvited You Will Be Crushed And Destroyed: The REMR (pronounced "reamer," a/k/a Really Early Morning Ride)
This ride leaves every Thursday from the Center of the Known Universe at either 5:30 or 5:45. No one will tell you when. It will be dark. The other riders will materialize out of the shadows and grimly nod to one another. No one looks happy. That's because no one is.
The best reason to crash this ride is that, even though you'll be squished like a bug, you'll be squished like a bug even if you are invited. It's hosted by the South Bay Royalty, presided over mainly by Jeff Konsmo and Dave Jaeger. Unless they tell you before the ride that they're going easy, they will crush you like a tin can. The ride rolls crisply out to PV, buries it up the Reservoir climb, crushes it up Better Homes, then squelches the life out of you up to the radar domes on Crest. When the king and queen are preparing for states/nationals, they throw in a handful of additional brutal climbs at race pace. No matter how good you think you are, you're not.
- None.
- Pain beyond your wildest fears.
- Darkness.
- Being dismembered by the fang and claw of nature.
- Failure.
- Collapse.
- Doom.
- Defeat.
- Once in the office you will stare at your computer screen with a befuddled gaze until it's time to go home.
- The Biggest Wankfest Of The South Bay: The Kettle Ride
Ride leaves every Sunday at 7:00 AM, or 7:05, or whenever, from the Center of the Known Universe, across from the Kettle Restaurant from which the ride got its name. It is the United Nations of South Bay Cycling, attracting all manner of biker. It can be a big ol' group when the weather's nice and junior's Little League games are done for the year, or it can be tiny when it's a horribly frigid SoCal winter day, which can mean an unendurably cold 63 degrees and a light drizzle. As C.U. Tomorrow says, speaking for thousands of South Bay cyclists, "I don't touch my helmet 'til the thermo hits 75."
The group stops at the "Knoll Loading and Unloading/Pick-up Party Area," or KLAUPUPA [Pronunciation key: "Clow-poopa"], a/k/a public toilets at Ocean Park on the bike path in Santa Monica. Aged prostates are relieved and the group continues on to PCH, where all heck breaks loose. There is a mad slugfest for 6 or 7 miles to Cross Creek in Malibu; midway some riders turn right to climb Topanga or choose a hillier route. Huge sprunt finish at the bridge in Malibu. Most riders turn around and go home, others continue up PCH for more Sunday frolic.
- Big ol' group of wankers, and wankers are fun.
- Nice warm up and chance to chat with friends if you're planning on doing one of the hillier routes.
- Great ride if you just want a brief paceline interval.
- Beautiful scenery.
- Excellent beach talent on the bike path return; most sightings of the first thong of spring occur here.
- The ride's too easy, especially since MMX moved off to North County San Diego.
- PCH can be hairy and dangerous.
- The non-climbing route is pancake flat and boring.
- That fat dude with the sheer, all-white kit two sizes too small sometimes shows up, and you can wind up having to stare down the hairy brown eye of death if you're inadvertently on his wheel.
- Shakes the Clown makes this a regular ride of his.
- The Secret Saturday Ride For The Anointed: The Nameless Ride
The Nameless Ride is the Saturday alternative to the Donut. It leaves CotKU at 6:00 AM and comprises the aforementioned royalty along with their retinue. No fucking around. The ride goes north and does a handful of hard climbs. Wankers will be ostracized and dropped. All participants required to know the secret handshake. No one will wait for you after you've been cracked on some lonely canyon in the Santa Monica Mountains, as vultures circle above and hungry coyotes eye your wretched, stringy body as you lie writhing in the ditch. The ride is as short as 70 miles and as long as 100; 120+ if you're coming from Pedro or PV.
- None.
- Feeling inadequate.
- Being ignored.
- Getting dropped.
- Crying.
- Death.
- All of the above.
- The Best Ride In America: The Wheatgrass Ride
The Wheatgrass Ride rolls out from Malaga Cove Plaza on Sundays just after 8:00 AM. It's a short, 1.5 hour romp around the PV Peninsula that goes up the Reservoir hill, Homes & Domes, Glass Church, long climb up Hawthorne to PV Mall, and a post-coital discussion of various things while quaffing coffee, Jamba Juice, and wheatgrass. The ride was started by Iron Mike Norris, a/k/a the Mayor of the Hill, or just plain "Dad." He provides wheatgrass for all participants at the end as punishment for not going to church.
The scenery is spectacularful. There's regrouping at the radar domes. The pace is only as hard as you want to make it. The group is very welcoming. No one gets snobbed on or ostracized, even Bike Toss Mike when his lechery gets the better of him. If you want to race like a madman with Stathis the Wily Greek or G3 the Mad Scientist, you can. If you want to test your mettle against Tink (and have your mettle wilt like a butter pat in the sun), you can.
Best of all, Wheatgrass is the ideal place to make your blogging debut. Something funny's sure to happen, and you'll be surrounded by the legends of the Hill. Iron Mike, Sunshine Rich, Big Bowles, Junkyard, New Girl, Pilot, Canyon Bob, Carlos, the Godfather, Vince di Draftlio…they're all there. Most awesomely, you'll get to meet Fussy, the human encyclopedia on everything that has ever happened in the South Bay. You'll hear about the dude who used to take a mannikin to all the races and dress it with his jersey so his number would be pinned on perfectly, and that's just the beginning. More funny stories per minute will be told than anywhere since Abe Lincoln was a circuit lawyer.
- The ride is short.
- No matter how hard you go, it's not that hard.
- Tink will drop you and step on your manhood.
- You'll be forced to drink wheatgrass at the end. Unless you're Pretty Boy.
- You won't be able to brag to your SO that you "did a hundred."
- The ride is pure fun.
- People treat you like a real person.
- Everyone's welcome, even Crazy George with the gym shorts, the saggy socks, and the rock collection he carries in his backpack.
- Someone will always stop and help you change your flat. Or your diaper.
- You'll feel like one of the group your first time out.
- Nothing is as much fun as a sunny Sunday morning catching some rays, spreading some manure, and enjoying some post-coital smack talk with like-minded friends.
- Doin' The Double: TELO Tuesday Training Race
After doing the NPR on Tuesday morning, you have the evening option of the TELO Training Race, which goes off every Tuesday at 6:00 PM from the spring time change to the fall time change. It is named after Telo Street in Torrance, a feeder road that leads into a lovely little office park.
The first lap is neutral, and the race lasts for an hour or until an errant vehicle takes out the field, whichever comes first. Packs are as small as 30 and as large as 60. As recently as a couple of years ago the pattern was this: Fast pace for a few laps, slow down, hard attack establishes break, pack chills for the rest of the race, breakaway hammers it out for the win. This rarely if ever happens anymore. The pace is so fast that breaks just can't make it. There's almost always a bitter headwind on the back half of the course, which is two long sides with a chicane and two short sides. Sprinter wheelsucks are always waiting in the wings.
- Super fast, super hard way to end your Tuesday.
- Close to South Bayers and free.
- Great way to get in a double workout if you do the NPR in the morning.
- Generally very safe racing. Crashes are rare, traffic knows about the race and is generally very considerate.
- It's a crit. Yawn.
- If it comes down to a sprint between you, Aaron Wimberly, Paul Che, and Christian Cognigni, there's no fucking way in hell you're going to win.
- Wheelsuck sprinters who treat training races like the real thing. Yawn.
No, Virginia, Halloween isn't a holiday: The Holiday Ride
When there is a national holiday, whichever day it falls on is the Holiday Ride. This often creates confusion on the part of most people in Manhattan Beach, and quite a few others in the South Bay who don't really have jobs, and for whom every day is a holiday. So I get emails and texts from them like, "Hey, is there a Holiday Ride tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," of course, is usually Halloween, or Gothic Rune Day, or National Prayer in School Day, or the day We Honor Our Teachers but Still Pay Them Shit Day. These are not national holidays, however much you like to use them as an excuse not to finish those three shaping orders that have been 80% completed for the last six months, and therefore, no, there won't be a Holiday Ride.
If it's Christmas, New Year's Day, Thanksgiving, MLK Day, 4th of July, etc., everyone meets at CotKU at 8:00 AM and leaves super promptly at 7:59. You'll never catch if you show up late. If the weather's sunny expect 200+ idiots.
The ride goes north to Santa Monica, turns right on San Vicente Blvd., makes another turn or two and then hits Mandeville Canyon. From the light at Mandeville, it's game fucking on. The speed instantly snaps the mob into a single file line of death. If you think you're a contender (you aren't), don't be more than ten wheels back.
People begin frying and charring immediately. It's an endless climb, never very steep except at the last few hundred yards, where it turns into a wall. The finish rarely includes more than two or three people. The remaining 200 or so are flogging the little meat in ones and twos all the way back down the hill.
- It's the ultimate "see and be seen" ride
- You get to see all the rich folks' houses in Brentwood, or at least the ones you can see with your fucking face plastered to the stem, your eyes watering like a firehose, and sheet snot pouring out all over your face
- The climb up the canyon is intense and humbling
- It's always a full-on beatdown
- Too many idiots
- Angry canyon residents have tried to kill cyclists using "their" road
- It's always a full-on beatdown
The B Team
December 26, 2011 § 4 Comments
No Sergio. No Rahsaan. No G$. No Fukdude. No Jdawg. No Brauch. No DJ. No King Harold. No Charon. No Brian-guy-from-Helen's who beat Talking Legs for second on Thanksgiving. No Talking Legs. MMX made an appearance, but it was with a fractured vertebrae, so he was only good for about half the climb.
Instead, today's Holiday Ride was populated by the B team: G3, Corncob, Stormin Norman, and JB, as well as Wankmeister, who got a temporary promotion from the B-minus team, or maybe from the C+ team.
For everyone used to the 28mph death roll up San Vicente that happens every time Rahsaan or Sergio shows up, it was a pleasant, chatty cakewalk. Left at the light, down the hill, right turn, and stop at the Mandeville light. Tandem Brad scoots through the yellow and takes off hell for leather. Everyone else patiently waits.
The light turns green, but no massive surge of Freds to the fore, ginning out top speed for a quarter-mile until they blow. Just a moderate pace for the first short bit, almost conversational. G3 takes a hard pull. Boeinboing takes a somewhat hard pull. Wankmeister refuses to pull. Corncob flips the "on" switch and turns on the power drill.
Wanky keeps the pressure on, then falls back a few wheels just in time to hear a shouting match between Saturn and Divepro about which one gets to sit on his wheel. Before they come to blows Wanky hits the gas, and there's Saturn's ponytail, tucked into the slipstream. Divepro is apparently diving down, or back, quickly.
JB throws down and after a few minutes it's just five: Corncob, G3, Stormin Norman, JB, and Wankmeister. Looks like another win for Big Orange, as all but Ironfly Wanky ride for B.O., and a couple of them ride with B.O.
Fully expecting them to take turns attacking, Wankmeister waits for the inevitable beatdown. JB, however, begins laboring like a beached whale as the sound of a collapsed lung and fluid dripping from his ears signal a core meltdown. Not a good sign for an impending attack by JB. G3 spins through, barely, but can't accelerate. Corncob gets dropped on one of Wanky's milquetoast accelerations, but grinds back on. Only Stormin Norman seems to be biding his time.
On his fifth attack Wankmeister gets pulled back, although "attack" is probably not the best word to describe a slow, panting, heaving, mild increase in speed of less than .5mph. Perhaps they were "detacks," or "nontacks," or "flogtacks."
As Wanky slides over to the gutter, Stormin Norman launches what would properly be called an attack. It was 5 mph faster than the current speed of the group. It came out on the far left as Wankmeister was decelerating on the far right. It began three wheels back. It created a small sonic boom. Yep, that was an attack.
Happily, the vacuum created by the sudden jump sucked Wanky into it, kind of like a deep ocean waterspout, and when Wankster finally looked up it was Just the Two of Us (we can make it if we try) Just the Two of Us (you and I).
"Yo, Stormalong," Wank wheezed. "That gap is bigger than Dallas. You've been dicking off the whole climb, I'm gassed like a gasbag, pretty please let me just sit on your nice, cozy wheel and it's all yours, buddy."
He nodded and churned.
However, unbeknownst to him, his team leader, G3, was implementing Big Orange Team Tactic No. 348.9(b)ii. This is a standard part of their manual, and it goes like this: when you have a teammate up the road with someone from another team, and your teammate is stronger, faster, better, handsomer, quicker, jumpyer, sprintyer, climbyer, and younger by 10 years than the elderly, beaten down, achey, dispirited, grindalong, limpalong, wheezealong, C+ upgraded wanker with whom he's away, you should chase down your teammate, drop him on the wall at the end of the climb, and make sure that the win goes to the teammate who got shelled a few miles back.
This teaches several key racing principles. One, you learn that your teammates will shaft you when you're most vulnerable. Two, you'll learn that even when you're in a breakaway with a proven loser like Wanky, you still can't be trusted to pull out the win. Three, you'll learn that life's a bitch. Especially that life's a bitch.
As the final pitch came into view, G3, having successfully chased down his teammate, latched onto Wanky's wheel. Wankmeister spun furiously until the final kick for no good reason, as he should have sat up and grabbed a wheel to recover, however, it's common knowledge that he's an idiot and will churn along pointlessly until he gets bitchslapped by everyone, including the 13 year-old on her fourth bike ride ever, when at that moment Corncob left everyone in his wake, followed by G3, Stormin, and JB.
I suppose you can bitch and moan as much as you want, but when Big O makes it first place, second place, third place, and fourth place…they're doing something right.
Why I sing the blues
November 24, 2011 § 12 Comments
It was Thanksgiving on the Holiday Ride, all right–or, as Jack from Illinois (not his real name) says, "Wanksgiving on the Holidork Ride." Us turkeys had our insides ripped out and then got a few pounds of pain stuffing shoved up the place where the insides came out. Ouch.
My strategy was a bit refined from the night before–sit on Roadchamp's wheel and pray for a miracle. The first part worked out okay, but since he was on or near the point for the first half of the climb up the canyon, when the fast and furious launches came from UCI Pros #1 and #2, followed by the utterly predictable attack of G$, the "pray for a miracle" part only resulted in prayer…no miracle.
My giblets and gravy, smeared all over the roadside, put me about fifteenth at the top of Mandeville. Looking at all the wasted, grimacing, dealing-with-the-reality-of-failure wankers who were leaning on their bikes trying to catch their breath while simultaneously trying to position themselves close enough to G$ so that new arrivals might think they summitted with him, it occurred to me to wonder "Why did I do this?"
No obvious answer presented itself, other than "you're a fucking idiot," so I decided to ask others why they chose the Holiday Ride in lieu of a more traditional Thanksgiving morning. I learned a lot.
Enormous gentleman with no obvious bike handling skills on a $10,000 dollar rig: "Weight loss."
Shakes the Clown: "What's the Holiday Ride?"
G$: "It's a cool ride where you get to see your friends, catch up with folks you haven't maybe seen in a while, check out your friend's new rides, and crush them."
UCI Pro #1: "Public's gotta see their idols every now and again."
UCI Pro #2: "It's an easy warm up."
Critchamp: "See this new bike and the cool paint job and the aero way it looks from the front and side? You're not going to be seeing anything but the rear wheel come March."
Roadchamp: "I love the smell of burning egos in the morning. Huh? Did you say something to me?"
King Harold: "Pain is my strength battering your body."
Jaegermeister: "You can suffer now or you can suffer on FTR. Or, in your case, Wanky, you can suffer on both."
New Girl: "Even though it's Thanksgiving and I'm with my family in Tahoe, I'm hiding in the closet reading VeloNews and Wankmeister's blog."
Woman in a sexy body sock: "Get away from me."
Maui Bride: "Because after we're done, and after I've dropped all the other chicks even though I don't ride anymore, I'll get to have an extra Shakeology."
Douggie: "Just don't let Rodley beat me up Mandy."
Rodley: "Just don't let Douggie beat me up Mandy."
Frankendave: "Hey youse guys! Let's see how close we can get to that cop's bumper!!"
Italian Stallion: "Chicks dig me."
Jack from Illinois (not his real name): "No white shorts. Work together. Your group rides are lame beyond belief."
StageOne: "See these 200 kits? I designed all of them. Except the ugly ones. They were designed by someone else."
Blondie: "It's not for the good looking guys, that's for sure."
Fuckdude: "It's part of my 2012 program, digested from 2,587 hours in cycling coach chat forums, four terabytes of power analysis data, and this cool fucking book I'm reading about Dave Scott and Mark Allen back in the day. It's fucking rad, dude. Wanna borrow it after I'm done?"
Davy Dawg: "I just like to see skinny people cry when I kick watts in their face."
Fireman: "Fucking it's so I can identify the Ironfly traitors wearing their non-Ironfly kits in public and put them on the hit list. Where's your fucking Ironfly kit, dude?"
Tandork: "It's a blast riding a tandem in the middle of 200 hundred people and weaving from side to side and hearing their death shrieks and the scream of screeching brakes."
Dying man in the ditch who came off after King Harold's pull: "Please, please call 911! And be sure to tell them I'm a donor."
Gooseman: "See this Rapha jersey? It cost almost as much as Stern-o's."
New triathlete, before we hit Mandeville: "This ride is really easy."
New triathlete, quite a long time later, at the top of Mandeville: "Where is everybody?"
Pied Piper after running red light in Marina del Rey: "Yes, sir, officer. No, sir, officer. Yes, sir, officer. Yes, sir."
Blabbe: "Because I enjoy having you ride up to me every ride and ask me my name, you conceited prick."
Ourrecord: "You chop me again and I'll kill you."
Knoll: "You'll notice I didn't do it this time. And there's a reason for that."
Gitcher turkey on
November 23, 2011 § 4 Comments
Tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp the Holiday Ride ride rolls out from the Center of the Known Universe. The weather forecast: perfect, so expect 150-200 knuckleheads all stuck together like a big ball of wax by the time the ride hits San Vicente. In order to ensure the perfect ride, I've compiled a list of strategies that should help you rise to the very top of the septic tank.
1. Be ready to roll out at 7:57. Even though the ride leaves exactly at 8:00, that's only for G$, DJ, King Harold, and a couple of others who always get there late and have to chase like crazy the entire ten miles to Santa Monica. Everyone else gets anxious and leaves early, ignoring Roadchamp who's always screaming at the top of his lungs, "It's not eight yet! It's not eight yet!"
2. That guy wearing the jersey-skirt with the four cases of donuts plastered to his stomach, neck, back, and hips? Don't glue yourself onto his wheel and then complain when he slams on the brakes and sends you off into the bushes.
3. Choose your plan early, i.e. cower, dodge, pray, and wait ("codpaw") or drill on the front ("drotfro").
4. If you're going to codpaw, prepare to be scared shitless from the moment you start turning the pedals. You'll be penned in on all sides by people who are at every stage of learning how to instantly and without warning knock down other people. You'll be able to let your mind run wild with all the possibilities of chain collisions from so many overlapped wheels, swerving bikes, and happily yakking yahoos who're paying no attention at all to the road or the idiot in front of them.
5. If you're going drotfro, prepare to be completely wrecked by the time you reach San Vicente, not least because you'll have wanted to make G$, DJ, and King Harold suffer like dogs for the entirety of their chase.
6. Once you hit San Vicente, find a wheel toward the front and prepare to vomit as Bahati gradually brings the pace from 17mph up to 42mph over a span of about ten seconds. Uphill. If you opt for codpaw and the relative shelter of the clump at the back, you'll need windshield wipers to clear off the snot, sludge, and barf bits from everyone who's now wishing they'd done a different ride.
7. Pace yourself at the bottom of Mandeville. You do this by riding like a fucking maniac to get as far forward as possible, resulting in total exhaustion when you nudge in about tenth wheel. If you're not already cracked, you'll soon shatter because at tenth wheel it will be in a single line, in the gutter, and there will be nowhere to hide, except at the back. When you gap out and get screamed at by fifty other idiots who are also on the rivet, you'll drift back to the back and find that there is no "back," only onesie-twosie clumps of similarly blown wankers.
8. Whatever you do, don't get on King Harold's wheel theorizing that he'll pull til he blows and then you'll be able to launch with the remainder of the leaders as everyone else will have been put to the sword. The problems with this theory are manifold. First, you'll be one of the very first turkeys who gets carved up when he begins flatbacking. Second, even if you did survive until his 3-mile effort ends, you'd be lucky if you still had the energy to find a ditch, lie down in it, and summon the strength to suck your thumb. Third, the pain you'll experience will give you lifelong nightmares.
9. Don't implement the "Follow G$ Strategy." This misbegotten plan ferments when you're lying in bed the night before, fantasizing about sending Stern-O an email detailing your exploits on Mandeville, and it occurs to you that all you'll have to do is follow G$'s wheel and come around him at the end. As with the King Harold strategy, this one seems stupidly simple, when in fact it is, if possible, even dumber. First, G$ never gets more than about three wheels back, and sitting on his wheel provides the draft of a large paperclip. This means you'll essentially be on the point, which equals early shatterage, followed by massive blowage, crackage, and terminal wankage. Second, about halfway up, sometimes earlier, G$ launches the first of a dozen of what in the cycling world is called an "attack." You know those pet chimpanzees that like to tear off their owners' faces and throw their bodies out the window? That's kind of what it will feel like if you really follow through on this whackananny plan, only it will hurt lots worse and the grimaces from the pain will make your face look even uglier than the chimp owners'. Third, even if you make it with him up to the final wall (say, for example, he's only riding with a rear wheel), he'll still have plenty of kick left to kick your ass.
10. Whatever you do, don't take a pull. At dinner, when you're bragging to the old lady about how you're going to throw down with the big boys, somewhere between the fourth beer and the bottom of the tequila bottle it may occur to you that, since you're going to get shelled, you might as well drill it at the bottom of Mandy and make the heroes earn their pay. First, remember that your "pull," even in the best of scenarios, is kind of like a 2 year-old towing his little red wagon. Second, remember that even though the heroes will be at a disadvantage, as they'll be out of breath from laughing at your piddly display of impotence, they will also be drafting. Drafting = resting. Resting = incalculable pain when they finally launch.
11. Avoid the temptation to ride up to Bahati, Rudy, or any of the other pros and say, "Hey, man, how's it going?" like they're your friend. They're not. They don't even know you, although they may remember your bright yellow, two-sizes-too-small outfit and the enormous swatches of belly and butt that it doesn't quite cover. Instead, quietly ride up behind them and tuck a $20 bill in their pocket. They'll never know it was from you, but you can tell your friends that you paid some of the local pros to ride for you in a big SoCal almost-race.
12. After you've been completely wrecked on the climb, throttle it back to 4 or 5 mph and wait for the first couple of guys from the lead group to appear as they descend Mandeville. Quickly whip your bike around and follow them. You'll reach the bottom more or less at the same time, and way before the other wankers who foolishly labored all the way to the top. They'll have been too gassed on the climb to realize you were miles behind them, ergo "bragging rights."
13. When you get home, post the following to Strava: "Fucking Garmin (or iPhone Strava app) quit working at the bottom of Mandy. Fucking had a course record today. Fuck." Throw in a few extra "fucks" as needed.
Enjoy the ride!


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Moderator Emeritus
Joined: Dec 2001
Location: The Heart Of It All
Oddometer: 4,003
Camping Gear Questions
Okay, I admit it: I'm middle-aged, overweight guy and I ride a leviathan behemoth of a motorcycle (BMW K1200LT) and suddenty - virtually out of nowhere - I am getting an old (and odd) urge that I thought long dead: I want to camp again.
Yes, I know what you're thinking: "Is he mad?"
Well, I usually stay in medium-quality motels when I tour. And I find many of them grossly overpriced, filthy dirty, often staffed with surly and/or incompetent mouth-breathers, and they're usually located all too close to major traffic crossroads and other hazards of modern America.
In other words, I wanna get away from it all.
Now, next year I plan on taking a Big Tour. I don't know where. I don't know when. I don't know much of anything at this point except that I'm going somewhere, damn it, and it's going to be for at least 10 days and I'm considering camping about every other night or so, both to save precious dollars and to experience the Great Outdoors and be One with Nature ... sort of.
I haven't camped in almost 20 years and have absolutely NO equipment whatsoever, so I'm starting from scratch.
I'd like some feedback on what tent to buy (I'll be traveling solo, with the good graces of my wife), as well as tips on sleeping bags, air mattresses or other similar devices and any other camping gear you can think of, including perhaps air pumps, etc. (Keep in mind I have a very questionable lower back, one of the things that's making me question my sanity on this.) I do not want to spend an outrageous sum of money because I doubt I'll camp again on a regular basis (though you never know, I suppose), I have a limited budget (new car) and ... well ... ummmmm ... I'm just cheap. I don't need enough stuff to climb Mt. Ararat or search for bin Laden in the caves near Khandahar, just some decent gear for maybe 5 or 6 nights under the stars, enough to stay dry and away from blood-sucking insects. I do need, however, decent-quality gear that won't self-destruct after a day in the sun or turn to cheese after a night of rain.
Okay ... 'nuf said.
Any ideas, gang?
And thanks in advance ...
Moderator Emeritus
Joined: Dec 2001
Location: The Heart Of It All
Oddometer: 4,003
Man, O-Shen ... talk about quick replies!
Thanks ever so much for the words of wisdom. Duly noted and logged. I'll begin my search for gear in earnest soon.
Beastly Adventurer
Joined: Sep 2001
Location: Grayslake, IL, USA
Oddometer: 1,221
A 2nd vote for the thermarest LE. It even packs down smaller than some of the lesser thermarests. :)
O-shen has more expirence than I do with the other stuff.
I've not camped much, I bought my gear based on it's packed size. Small tent, bag, and stove. My wife who camps more but with a car was confused. Small stuff has worked OK for me and has suprised her. I think my bag is synthethic, but it was designed to pack down small. I forget the details.
I'm with you BMW Rider. I'm going to head MC camping for the first time as soon as the weather turns around. I figure I'll try it a couple times close to home and test the gear I have.
Keep in touch, let us all know how things are going.
Oh, yeah, ya might check here:
O-shen...all that shit fit? WOW! Do tell how?
I'm curious how to get the tent poles to fit into the bags. They seem too long. Ideas?
Space Cowboy
Joined: Nov 2001
Location: Denver, Colorado
Oddometer: 413
One quick recommendation about the thermorest -- I would go with the full length version rather than the 3/4 length. It's nice to keep your dogs off the cold ground while your sleeping.
 Losing your mind makes it harder to find.
Just sayin...
Joined: Jul 2001
Location: PNW
Oddometer: 8,967
BMW Rider,
A while back, we had a good thread going on Motorcycle Camping Tents. Well, the long and the short of it was I took fish's advice and went out and bought a Sierra Designs Alpha CD Tent. It works GREAT for me camping solo and will comfortably fit The BOY when he comes along. Not only that, but I got it on e-bay in October for < $200 new - great time to pick up camping gear!
As far as other's opinions about the Thermarest LE - do it. Well worth the investment. My old sleeping bag has seen its' last season, so next season, I'm looking at the North Face Blue Ox Sleeping Bag - yes, it's down so there are a few dis-advantages, but it is HUGE and comes in extra-long to fit my generous dimensions. That's all I have for now...
[i]"I mean, really ... when you get right down to it, does a man need anything much more than bacon
Studly Moderator
Joined: Jul 2001
Location: Tucson, AZ
Oddometer: 225
Damn Son! Yer drivin' the Light Truck for Chrissakes!
The only camping gear I'd carry would be an American Express Card...
No, seriously....Love the Sierra Designs tents-buy a three man for two-leaves room for gear. Thermarest-way to be...North Face make pretty good bags, espescially in the "oversize" department...Get a gear loft and footprint (ground tarp) for the tent. Buy real tent stakes....
Carry Duct tape, a candle, and a bic lighter....A little single malt doesn't hurt either...
Happy Trails...if the LT gets stuck in the mud, send up a flare and we'll get you out.
"Arizona-Hell's Waiting Room" - the Jinxster
Moderator Emeritus
Joined: Dec 2001
Location: The Heart Of It All
Oddometer: 4,003
First, thanks for the terrific responses to my query. As a camping novice (virgin?) I'm pretty much at a loss so this info has been invaluable and I really appreciate it.
As for the Amex Card, well, that's the way I've traveled for years and it does have its advantages: hot indoor showers, air conditioned rooms, and the hotel bar. But I figure "roughing it" for a few nights every year might not be a bad alternative ... sort of reconnect with Nature or something ...
That single malt suggestion is right up my alley, though I prefer bourbon. And I'll have to remember to hook up my martini mixer on the LT ...
Now, if I do get stuck in the mud aboard the Light Truck, I appreciate the offer to come get me out. I reckon a Huey helicopter and a sling ought to get the job done, huh?
Joined: Nov 2001
Location: Bradford, Pa
Oddometer: 4,432
There are a bizzillion tents out there! I bought a Walrus Repede a couple years ago. Goes up & down real fast! Packs small & light. My next tent will be bigger though!
Don't leave home without the thermorest & camping pillow!
Can pick up some Travel John's at K-store! These things are great for losing fluids without getting out of your tent at night!
On 2 week trips, I would camp every other night & motel it every other:):
Taking MRE'S saves all the space of cooking stuff ! They're good!
If you're one of those people that have to have hot coffee in the morning, take a thermos & fill it up the night B-4! :hat
2013 Yamaha TW200 2k
99-RT- Graphite 50k Gone
01-GS- Mandarin 42k Gone
05-GS- Rock Red 92k
06-GS- Dakar-40k Sold
Dammit, that hurt...
Joined: Jul 2001
Location: Menlo Park, California
Oddometer: 2,544
O-Shen is spot on about the Western Mountineering bags..Best bags out there for us larger people..Down side is they are not cheep...Thermorest LS pads..got to have one...remember..you can have the grestest tent in the world and best food..but nothing worst then having a crappy night sleep...Don't cut cost there..
Geek Adventurer
Joined: Jul 2001
Location: Orygun
Oddometer: 5,641
A few comments:
1) I do not recommend down as an insulator unless you can guarantee it will never get wet - which of course you cannot. Synthetic insulators are almost as good in every respect except for a very slight weight penalty which would not be noticeable on a motorcycle. What you will notice is that the synthetic gear will keep you warm even when it is wet. I have been glad for this advantage of synthetic over down a number of times.
2) Since you have a bad back I recommend you get a folding cot along with a sleeping pad as this will help a lot.
3) Bivy sack type shelters are light and small, but they do not give you the opportunity to easily store gear out of the rain and muck and can be too warm in the heat. When it is raining out it is very nice to be able to move around in a small tent and get all dressed/undressed out of the rain. Same goes for avoiding bugs.
4) I personally prefer tents that are one piece; in that they do not need a rain fly. They are somewhat heavier, but they are much easier to erect, especially when it is raining and windy, and you don't have to get up in the middle of the night to put the rain fly on because a rain storm caught you by surprise.
5) I recommend against cheap sub $100 tents; one night in the rain in one of those tents and you will know true misery.
6) If you are doing your own cooking during camping then I recommend teflon lined pans. This makes cleanup much easier.
7) Do not cook inside your tent as there is a real risk of fire and injury, not to mention asphixiation.
'09 Husaberg FE570
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Not all who wander are lost
Moderator Emeritus
Joined: Dec 2001
Location: The Heart Of It All
Oddometer: 4,003
Thought I'd resurrect this old thread. I think it might have been the first one I started, way back in 1933.
Anyway, I'm still considering doing the camping thing to BMWGSBYOB II in Hot Springs, NC next June.
So if your idea of calling it a night is crawling into Farmer McCullough's corn crop and using your Shoei as a pillow, feel free to add your two cents.
Oh, and as a caveat, two cents is about what I want to spend. Think cheap but not shoddy.
Discuss amongst yourselves ...
Adventure Sidecar
Joined: Dec 2001
Location: GoodLiver,Oregon,USA
Oddometer: 5,294
Spend good money on the sleeping bag and pad. I have a Northface bag and the thickest thermarest they had. Like both.
I'd get a cheap tent- you don't need light you do need waterproof and roomy. Look for a large rainfly( some of the cheapest tents have a nylon handkerchief pretending to be a rainfly), shockcorded poles( i prefer fiberglas to aluminum-don't break when you stumble over them and why pay a premium for light weight). You want a free standing dome tent with a tub floor. The cheaper ones use woven pvc for the floor, like what you use for a tarp over your wood pile. I think this is actually better for moto camping than the more expensive light weight nylon floors-you don't need a ground cloth, the plastic resists chafing when packed and resists punctures and tears when in use.
Clip systems are a little easier to set up, but sleeves for the tent poles work fine, specially since you don't plan on a lot of use. Use seam sealer on the sewn seams of your new tent.
Campmore is a good mailorder source for gear. We got an Eureka tent from them last Spring which is very nice. Think it was about $120. Replaced a $30 WhiteStag that I have used hard for several years-got that one from the local chain hardware store.
" I need to stop talking and start drinking" ...Mom
RedMenace screwed with this post 12-27-2003 at 03:59 PM
Joined: Nov 2002
Location: Just east of the Pine Beatle- Evergreen, CO
Oddometer: 12,560
Don't leave home without a Thermarest Camprest LE- trust me on this one Rider- I'm a fat phuck like you- with a bad back... you'll sleep great on one of these- and like shit on damned near anything else. It is hugely overpriced and you'll choke when you buy it- but you will actually sleep- and that can be priceless~ You can get away with just about any sleeping bag that's good to 40 degrees or so... you probably won't camp if it's going to get any colder than that. If you want to borrow a tent for BMWBYOBII I can bring my spare- You can just hotel it enroute- and then camp at the event.
"Everybody loves cunnilingus!" Chacifer
"The road to paradise is paradise" Jacques Yves Cousteau
Oh, nice marmot.
Joined: Aug 2002
Location: Chesterville, OH
Oddometer: 405
Head on down to Sawmill Road there and check out Galyan's to see if they have any good Post Holiday sales going. They have a lot of high quality stuff there. I bought a Marmot bag before Xmas. It was 20% off and I got a free sleeping pad! Plus, you can try the bag you want to buy. That was important for me because the bag said for up to 6'. I'm 6'2" and I thought I would have to get a "tall" bag but I didn't.
They had a bunch of tents on clearance too. I'll see you around. I took a 50 mile ride last night (12/26). Got home about 10pm. My face shield was actually frosting up!
2011 R1200GS Adventure :
The Voice of Reason
Joined: Feb 2002
Location: Memphis, Tennessee
Oddometer: 38,096
Wifey got me a few camping toys for Christmas as I want to try that route a little this year...You can get decent stuff relatively cheap if you will go the route of sale/discontinued/overstock etc. She bought me a NorthFace Rock 22 tent, Kelty bag, and a basecamp thermarest. I believe the basecamp is a tad thicker for us old fellas. I'll probably get a small cartridge type (propane/butane) stove (I've got coleman stoves, just don't want to fool with the fuel). I won't fool with a lantern...LED flashlights will suffice. Probably will go very sparce with utensils too. Too many cafes abound. And for entertainment...she got me a neat little radio, a Grundig Yachtboy. I have little-biddy TV's but won't take them on a camping trip...much rather have a book & radio. This won't be exactly roughing it...I've BTDT. Oh, and I'm sure I'll have some sort of equalizer along if you know what I mean.
Always mindful of obstruction, do your duty, never fail;
Keep your hand upon the throttle, and your eye upon the rail.
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Forza Motorsport 5 Adds the Mount Panorama Circuit in Bathurst, Australia
Written Thursday, September 05, 2013 By Lee BradleyView author's profile
The Mount Panorama circuit in Bathurst, Australia is the latest track to be announced for Forza Motorsport 5.
"Few circuits have been requested more by the worldwide Forza fanbase than Bathurst, and for good reason," said Turn 10 Studios Creative Director Dan Greenawalt. "It holds a special place in motorsports history as one of the most demanding and challenging circuits in the world.
"In addition, the timing couldn't be better to finally bring Bathurst to the Forza series; with 'Forza Motorsport 5', we're able to bring the circuit to life in a way that nobody else can.
"Through the use of cutting-edge technology like laser-scanning and our new materials-based graphics engine, we can now precisely reproduce the characteristics of every corner, straight and detail to sub-centimeter accuracy; from the narrow twists and turns of the Esses, to the thrilling rollercoaster sprint down the Conrod Straight.
"This is the Bathurst that racing fans have been asking for years and we're proud to bring it to them in 'Forza Motorsport 5.'"
The reveal comes alongside the announcement that Xbox Australia and Triple Eight Race Engineering will be entering a real-life Xbox One Racing Team in the 2013 Supercheap Auto Bathurst 1000. They'll be racing in the Holden VF Commodore seen below.
Forza Motorsport 5 is out on November 22nd, launching alongside the Xbox One. You can read our latest preview of the game here.
[via Xbox Wire]


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Evans says Saranac Lake can get overlooked by retailers due to its small size. That's why reaching out to certain franchises is a good idea, Evans says, adding that sometimes if you tell them a community is a good fit, they listen.
Rabideau says retail developers also look for communities with "shovel-ready" sites. He says that presents a challenge to the village due to the small size and relative unavailability of shovel-ready parcels.
"For instance, take the so-called sand pit behind Aldi's and McDonalds," Rabideau said. "It's far from shovel-ready, even though it may present acreage, it does not yet fit the definition of shovel-ready for retail development."
Rabideau says village officials will begin looking at properties and determine how to make them more presentable to retail developers.
The initiative would also establish an online database of all available commercial properties located in the village. Rabideau says developers and property owners will be able to access the database in order to advertise commercial property currently on the market.
Saranac Lake, Inc. establishes a small business loan program for entrepreneurs that are looking to add new jobs.
The plan also allows for the creation of business kiosks throughout the village and includes downtown walkabouts - video tours that feature various local businesses.
Trustee Allie Pelletieri asked how the Saranac Lake, Inc. initiative would fit with what the Saranac Lake Area Chamber of Commerce currently does.
Jeremy Evans says the chamber will be a partner, but the village proposal also helps businesses that don't belong to the chamber.
"We want to partner with them, but we want to focus on village businesses, whereas their members have a broader reach," he said. "In the chamber's position, you have to pay to be a member. And although they promote business village-wide, they're limited on what they can do for individual businesses if they're not a chamber member."
Evans says the village initiatives specifically target village needs at little to no cost.
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1989-02-25 Mike Tyson w rsc 5 Frank Bruno, Hilton Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA - WORLD
1989-02-25 Mike Tyson w rsc 5 Frank Bruno, Hilton Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA - WORLD. Referee: Richard Steele. Out of the ring for 16 months, waiting for his title crack at the champion, Bruno kept himself in condition while Tyson was suffering from managerial and domestic problems that almost threatened to sink him. The fight finally went ahead and almost immediately Bruno (228) was on the floor after taking a right to the temple. On his feet at 'three' despite being hit while on one knee, Bruno eventually got back in action and had Tyson (218) badly hurt from a cracking left hook to the jaw before the session ended. Unfortunately for Bruno he was unable to take full advantage of the situation, letting his opponent off the hook, and ultimately paid the price. By the third Tyson was in full swing after an erratic start and at the start of the fourth he had hurt Bruno with a huge right to the head and was weakening the latter with body blows that was sapping all the strength out of him. With just five seconds of the fifth remaining it was all over as the referee stopped the contest with Bruno not hitting back and floundering on the ropes under a barrage of punches oh heavy blows to head and body.


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You can now invite anyone to meet at your favorite Starbucks.
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35 year old woman | Montrose, CA, USA | Seeking men 32-40 within 50 miles
searching for somone to laugh with
Im a light hearted person who likes to take things in stride . I like to laugh everyday and enjoy every moment. I think life is about the little things that make u happy. Im looking for somone as easy going as me. Someone who can see the humur in things and not get upset. I love to go out and see new places and enjoy nice weather . Hate to be inside on a sunny day. Im a big film buff and like going to the movies . Some of my favorte films are comedys. Im also a huge 80s fan anything from that decade.. IM in!! Im gearing up to go to school again , going back for nursing classes. Im also looking into journalism .. another passion of mine. My social life lately, pretty tame so im thinking i could find the right one to get me back in the swing.
Coffee and conversation , Cooking , Dining out , Movies/Videos , Museums and art , Music and concerts , Nightclubs/Dancing , Travel/Sightseeing , Wine tasting
Bowling, Dancing, Other types of exercise, Running
I exercise 1-2 times per week.
I have Cats
I like Dogs
Middle of the Road
I like going to the burbank bar and grill on fridays for some 80s music . Im a big 80s fan and that right up my alley . I really enjoy vegas even though I dont get to go often.
some of my favorite movies are
I love going to the movies , concerts or just being outdoors . Having fun is easy when ur with the right person!!
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|What she is looking for
|5'2" (157cms)
|5'9" (175cms) to 8'11" (271cms)
|Body type:
|No preference
|No preference
|Light brown
|No preference
|No preference
|Social Drinker
|Social Drinker
|Other profession
|No preference
|I'll tell you later
|No preference
|Currently Separated
|No preference
|Have kids:
|Yes, and they live at home (3)
|No preference
|Wants kids:
|Probably not
|No, but it's OK if my partner has kids
|Latino / Hispanic
|No preference
|Spiritual but not religious
|No preference
|English, Spanish
|English, Spanish
|Some college
|Some college


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