I didn't get to ride my new bike in today. (nope, not that one...I got another that'll I'll let ya'll see next week)
I haven't posted a thing yet this week!
I'm heading out of town tomorrow and I haven't packed...shoot, I don't even know what I'm going to be for Halloween yet this year. (the most beloved of holidays in my family) I might just have to crack out what I wore last year.
{What you don't see is the SlimJim wand completing the RedNeckFairy outfit}
If I was sticking around Seattle for the weekend you could almost bet that I would be at this event... Shoot...I don't even thing Vegas would be willing to place a wager on that! What really gets me is I know the inventor of the Mitch Morgan drink you see highlighted in their flier. Crud...I think I hold the record for the largest Mitch Morgan EVER drank...and I most likely own the record for the 'shortest amount of time it took to lose a pair of pants after drinking a Mitch Morgan' as well.
I digress...that is a story for another time.
However after the great Bacon Brawl I'm sure you'd find me at MessMann's event as well.
And lastly...don't forget that SSCXWC are just over a week away! Honestly...it's been a year, and the only thing that has even come close to the amount of fun I had at the first SSCXWC was the RollerCross event we attended just a little while ago.
I have a theme, I have a team, and I'm now dreaming of this event and will be counting down the days till we get there.
(And as a little motivation to any of you out there...a Raleigh Rainier frameset will be given away as one of the prizes)
If there's more fun to be had on a bike than at a Cross event...I want to know about!
When words escape you...turn to those magical moving pictures...
This one just hit my inbox...a nice little wrap up of Sabotage "Cuff'n and Stuff'n" those poor unsuspecting kids in Portland. The Rapha write up on the whole thing can be found here.
Then, on a serious note. We all know that bikes can save the world. However, bikes can't do it all. That's where organizations like 350.org pipe in. Their goal is to reduce the parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere from it's current position of 387 to what they deem is a more sustainable 350.
Opinions vary on Global Warming, and I'm not here to stand on a Keg and shout out my beliefs. I just think if we all rode bikes a little bit more...the world could be a better place.
Anyway...a nice video, with a simple wordless message.
And on a not so serious note...in a time of INTENSE campaigning...Dance-Offs should be how every argument is settled!
Did I mention bacon? No? Well here's your daily dose of the good stuff.
Note. If you find yourself having a couple Barley Pops with Nightstick...don't...I repeat...don't agree to do a mountain bike ride with him on your Single Speed Cross bike.
Because when morning rolls around and you find yourself on your way to the Ferry with a couple of guys on Mountain Bikes, and he calls saying "I thought you meant (whichever) Ferry. I don't think I can make it to (the ferry we were meeting at) Ferry in time." That's when you find yourself screwed and holding on for dear life for the next 3 1/2 hours.
Don't get me wrong here. I had a blast.
The guys I ride with are awesome.
The trail is swoopy and fun.
I LOVE my Raleigh Rainier. I love riding single speed. I love riding single speed cross.
But somewhere around the Chevy Celebrity on our ride in Banner Park...that's when I was wishing I had fatter tires and disc brakes.
Despite my gripes about the Seattle skies, I don't know of too many places you can live where you can get up in the morning, have a stellar cup of coffee, (I just wish I would've had enough time to make some of these this morning!) hop on a ferry and 30 minutes later be riding your bike on 25 miles of single track.
{The space 2 bikes take up on a Ferry VS...} {Imagine how many bikes you could fit in here!}
{Awwwww...}
On a completely different note. Check out the Raleigh Web Site. It's been changed it up a bit and there are some new backgrounds to look at. (Just who is that handsome devil in some of those pictures?!)
Friday...2000 hour...We're finally hitting the road to Portland. Word on the street, there seems to be a Roller Cross Race going on across the border. It's an underground event attracting the very scum of Oregon's race scene in street fight on bikes. I've assembled a crack team of riders to infiltrate this event and bring everything to a crashing halt. Name's Sally...but to these guys, I'm the Chief. I'm the silver haired fox in the sport coat, a few days from retirement and getting too old for this sh*t. The kid on the left is the Rookie. The young'n of the group. What he lacks in experience he more than makes up for in energy. From what I hear, his 'undercover work' is some of the finest around. Time will tell. Grabbing my arm is Bubbles. No one really knows his real name. It's just always been Bubbles. I'll tell you this...he isn't named that for his charming personality. This guy will just as soon crack your skull as ride a naked skid though flames. The guy on the end is NightStick. As the name suggests, he dishes out the beat downs without remorse. He usually has a sadistic smile on his face as he's doing it...(shudder)...sends chills down my spine just thinking about it.
2330...we finally arrive in Portland. There's a pre-event party going on. We can't make. Nightstick is laying in the yard of our 'temporary precinct' and babbling some gibberish. Bubbles is feeling the effect of a late night run to the border (maybe that's why they call him bubbles), and the Rookie is just giggling. This group I've assembled is crazy...and they're just the guys to pull off this sting.
Saturday...0800...we stop in at Gravy and put down the finest country fried steak I've ever had. 1000...We swing by the Manifest. This is the 'cover' for the Roller Cross race tonite. The bikes are pretty. Real pretty. While there we start 'casing' the riders that will be there tonite. These people are even worse than I've heard. With team names like Super Relax, Gentlelovers, Beer, Zoobombers, and Grundlebruisers we returned to HQ and prepared ourselves for the worst.
1700...We arrive on the scene and check out the masochistic machines they're going to make us ride.
They're quick off the line, but maintaining a high cadence is going to be a problem for these tired old legs. After we spin out and get a feel for the machines they tell us there's more. We have to hop off the bikes, grab a child's bike (no children were present so I don't know what school yard these sick-o-s ripped these bikes off from) and run an obstacle course surrounded by screaming 'perps'. In order to end the round a cowbell had to be rung (again, no cow was to be found and no burgers were being served...so where did the cow go?!)
1900...All the teams have arrived. I could have busted all these people on indecency charges on the spot. Grown men dancing around in their underpants and silvery blue bikini's. Shoot. The women had more clothes on than the men did. Criminal.
2000...They call up the teams and have us 'parade' around the track like some kind of prize poodle in a dog show. Giving the demented people of Portland a 'sneak peak' as to what is coming. This event is turning out to be bigger than I expected.
2030...My number is up. I've watched the first few rounds and have already seen punches, blood, beer, and man flesh everywhere. Now it's my turn. I'm the first from team Sabotage to step up there and I'm thinking the crowd can smell bacon. They look at me suspiciously. I'm easily the oldest looking guy to stand on the stage...I've gotta step it up here or our cover is blown. As they scream go, my legs start to scream almost immediately. I look up and see the rest of the squad cheering me on...I've gotta step it up and win this, for them. When my hands get tapped, telling me I've FINALLY finished the 500m, I grab a kids bike and notice the other 'racers' still on the bikes. My thoughts begin to wander but I quickly bring them back around "no time to think old man, just finish this and try and fit in". As my rubbery legs stumble down the ramp I notice a member of the crowd taunting me with a can of something. I grab it as he yells something in my face and I start to drink it...beer. Is there no end to the debauchery?!
2130...The first rounds are done. NightStick did what he was brought to do. Intimidate and dominate. Unfortunately a couple mishaps took out the Rookie and Bubbles. The Rookie took a spill and Bubbles had a Wardrobe Malfunction when his shoelace got wrapped around his pedal. I don't know how many times I've told Bubbles the virtue of Velcro.
2200...The next rounds start up. I'm the first off the bikes but get body checked by a GentleLover. I'll tell you what, there was nothing gentle about it. Nightstick faced his stiffest competition yet and looked to be out of the race until a stumble and fall put him back into first. With Nightstick being the last member of our team still in the competition, he was definitely feeling the heat... 2245...The finals. NightStick vs the GentleLover that took out his Chief. Before they get on the bikes the organization running the show decide to up the stakes and change the rules. This time Nightstick will have to sprint 500m, run the course, re-mount and sprint another 500m, and then run the course a second time. Just who are the demented twisted minds behind this?! However, when the final cowbell was rung in the most exciting heat of the nite...the unheard of, undercover, Sabotage Squad had 'cuffed and stuffed' Portland.
NightStick walked away with a sweet new frame. And team Sabotage walked away with their heads held high knowing we were returning to Seattle from a job well done.
Where will Sabotage end up next. Time will only tell. I have a feeling though we may need to investigate another upcoming event back in Portland. This one promises to be even more demented than this one.
This morning I was finally able to wash the blood, sweat and beer off me from this weekend. The Manifest was beautiful, the cross race a riot, and the Roller event...well...we'll just say this. Of the 14 teams invited to participate, there was only one from Seattle.
Four Rainier drinking single speed riding Saboteurs vs 52 of Oregon's finest and rowdiest
'Cause the bikes we're race'n, you know they came from here
So, while you heckle and throw beer in my eye
We'll dismount and F'n run right by
Oh my god, it's a Mirage
I'm tell'n ya'll it's SABOTAGE!
So...we'll see if they regret their decision to invite me to bring a team down this weekend. If any of you find yourself in Portland for the Manifest you should find some sweet 70's style gear, get dressed up in it, and come heckle the pants off me and my SABOTAGE squad.
WARNING. This post has NOTHING to do with Bicycles. And EVERYTHING to do with Bacon.
Yes...I do have more to write up on various subjects from Vague-ass, to the leaves turning, to De-Motivation, and a Rapha Roller Race going on in conjunction with the Manifest this weekend in Portland. However, all of that takes a back seat to the only meat ever referred to as 'candy'.
The reason for this post and the reason it is appearing on this site came from Dirt Demo at Interbike. While I was spinning pedals on and off of bicycles, answering various questions about a variety of topics I heard a voice in the tent ask..."Is Bacon Brian here?"
While I have a variety of nick names, I have never...and I mean never...been referred to as Bacon Brian. Sure, I've lived with a number of vegetarians over the years. And a quite a few people trying to watch what they were pushing through their system. But this never stopped me from making up the most holy of pork products in the morning. And inevitably, after I'd moved out, someone would tell me that they missed the smell of Bacon in the morning. Vegans, Vegetarians, Doctors, Trainers, Girlfriends, Republicans...it didn't matter. It seems everyone loves, at least the smell, of Bacon.
This affinity for the marbled meat has created a Bacon Sanctuary at my desk. I have What Would Bacon Do decision makers. Bacon Wallet. Bacon Mints. Bacon air fresheners. Bacon Band-Aids. I even have a Bacon Wave for making bacon at work. (Mind you...most of these were gifts. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!) And my Race'n Bacon pine wood derby car sits proudly next to my monitor.
So it really should come as no surprise that at our final diner at Interbike my boss ordered me up my own separate plate of Bacon which we made Bacon-tinis and Bacon Ice cream with.
{Don't Yuck it till you try it...this was awesome!}
When I arrived back in Seattle and found the courage to open my Inbox I found a variety of emails with Bacon in the subject line. Here are a few of the more note able finds...
(click on the pictures for the links)
{In this election year...this is definitely a combo I can stand behind}
{I think I like their stand on "Trying Anything Once"}
{Make sure you floss afterwards though}
{Can you really be over prepared for an emergency?!}
{In case you're like me and simply can't wait...}
If you want the smell of bacon but have had your fill of it for the day (yeah right...like that would happen!) You could always just light the Crispy Bacon Jar and fill your house with the smell and none of the mess.
{I actually find this picture disturbing...}
And just so you know I'm not alone out there...these people seem to have a slightly larger addiction than I do.
So maybe Bacon Brian is an appropriate Nickname. It sure is a lot more 'normal' than a lot of my other nick names.
Man-O-Man am I on top of things around here! I still have a bunch of stuff I want to write about Interbike...but since I just posted the perfect NW Cross race I should show how folks do it in Nevada.
First off I'll say I'm the luckiest boy at Raleigh. All because I like to go out and make a fool of myself I got excused from a massive company function the night of CrossVegas. Only a couple of us got Hall Passes and I was psyched to be one of them.
Earlier in the day the Vigilantes over at Yakima gave me a call and informed me that they were going to be riding to the race for warm up. Warm up? Isn't that were you huddle up with as many people as you can to stay warm, take nips off the bottle, and doubt forms in your head about why we do this kind of thing?! Apparently some kids take this stuff seriously...but the Vigilantes are a fun crew so I was 'all-in' for a ride over to the race. Although half way there, with sweat pouring out of my hat, and the hair dryer on HI in my mouth...I was reconsidering my choice.
The field was deep...again...somewhere around 90 riders. They crammed us all into the Finish area like cattle heading for the slaughter house. I was relieved to hear them calling up names of all the important people. I figured being the new marketing guy over at Raleigh I'd be called up for sure...they never called my name...they never called it. I couldn't believe it (I was soooo shocked). So the rest of us all rolled up to the start line and fired the gun...
{See if you can spot the Coveralls in the first few minutes and then again around 6.45}
After we completed the 'parade loop' and rolled past the announcers, they announced the race would be 3 laps.
THREE LAPS!
I don't know how many of you have done a cross race but that's barely enough time for your cow bell hand to get warmed up.
At that point I gave my shoulders a shrug and in an attempt to get DQ'd found out where the beer garden was. I stopped every lap to share a beer with a fine gentleman who could see I was Popeye in need of a boost...but was never pulled.
Approaching the last leg of the race I happened upon Neil of Road Magazine settling into a 'finishing' pace. I've met Neil before but it was a couple years, and job positions, ago for me so I knew he wouldn't remember me if I grabbed his ass. So I held off and went around him...or so I thought. As soon as we hit the next sharp turn Neil went flying by me. I could hear his thoughts brewing in his head as he stood up and drove his bike through the carpet. "I'm NOT going to let a guy in coveralls beat me. Let alone a guy riding a single speed wearing coveralls." Normally I wouldn't mind, however today was different. And this was a different rider. So I stayed on Neils wheel until we got to the finish line and came around him with my guns in the air. YAHOO...I probably beat Neil for 65th or something!
{I actually had GRASS STAINS instead of mud!}
Anyway. Afterwards the Vigilantes informed me they were one of the title sponsors and had a VIP area with free beer, food and the best seats in the house for the Elite categories. How awesome is that?! I ran into a few more folks from Portland...
After the race was over the Vigiliantes grabbed me and drug me on their double decker party bus they had chartered for the event...WHAT?! A double decker bus?! And I didn't have to wait in line with everyone else to catch a shuttle back to the strip!? Is there no end to how sweet this night is going?
{You can make out a Rapha dude, an FSA lady, and...well...I really don't know} As for the rest of the nite...all I will say is I ended up at the Sinclair party...still wearing my coveralls...with my race number still attached.
The next day on the show floor was not an easy one. Especially with the buzz we created with the outfits we were wearing...but that's another story.
Was TWO WEEKS AGO...I know I know I know, but I can't let that race go by with out a posting. After all, it was the first time my new cross bike got to see some racing and StarCrossed proved to be the perfect place for it to debut.
Temperature...45 degrees Chance of Rain...100% Seattle Cross Crowds...Awesome! Amount of mud ingested...2lbs Number of Tall Boys provided by Rainier for the race...96
We arrived early to the race on Saturday as one of our crew jumped into her very first Cross race ever. She was freak'n out before the race started, but a quick shot of encouragement and hit the course with a fresh layer of lipstick and a huge smile. She didn't win...but that wasn't the point. I'm super proud of her for just jumping into the fray...
After her race I was wandering around the pits and I came across an old nemesis of mine. Phil. (Some of you may remember Phil from a previous race in which I got booted out early for wearing coveralls)
As I stood there, looking coolly at him, in my brand new White Coveralls with Rainier styled graphics he looked me over and a forced smile appeared on his face. I finally broke the silence...
"I'm alright in this get up here...right?" Referring to a comment he had made earlier about my 'antics' being better appreciated in the cross scene.
He laughed and as he walked away all I heard him say was 'yup'.
As our start time got closer, the rain fell harder, and the lines of people signing up grew shorter. So I went over to register and ran into Phil once again...
"You know you can't race in that...right?!" "Whoa Phil, you told me I would be alright in this get up in the cross races." "This isn't Portland" he retorted. "Maybe it should be" "Let me think about this..." "If I may interject Phil. If I remember the rule correctly...this suit does NOT provide an aerodynamic advantage, and it has sleeves" He thought long and hard...and as he grinned he let an "alright" pass though his lips.
Whew.
With a little more time to go we "warmed up" in the pits. This involved some chain-less spins on the bike to warm up the legs, and some Rainier Curls to lighten up the cooler. Then, to our surpise, we had a visitor...another Cross soldier swung by our tent with a present. Much like a knight of old he knelt before our crew and presented a pair of Rainier Arm Warmers like he was presenting us Excalibur. With great joy our crew accepted his gift, only after he promised to join us after his battle on the field, fill his cup and regale us with stories of times gone past. There was much rejoice.
Race numbers mean everything in cross. The higher the number the worse your starting position. In the Cat 3 men they started with number 200. I got lucky and got #288 out of 296! I was stoked.
With a crack of the gun the wheel spray began and our bleach white coveralls were christened.
Bumping, rubbing, crashing, sliding, pushing, tripping, ass grabbing, beer drinking, and heckling. And all that was from the spectators and supporters! How can you not love this sport?!
{Tell me that ain't a good look'n support crew...I dare ya}
{It takes a lot of work to support, and a sweet ass ta-boot}
{This silly punk flew all the way from sunny CO for a little WA fun}
{This kid had the time of his life!}
{Me? I can't figure out why I do this stuff}
{This cleaning bill is going to be through the roof!} {Now that's how a cross bike should look after it's first race}
With the race wrapped up and the Elite crew warming up our rag tag crew broke down our base camp and headed for the city. Looking at the time I barely enough time to eat, wipe down my bike before boxing it up, share stories from the race, and pack for InterBike and CrossVegas. Which is another story all in itself...
Much thanks goes out to our good friend Dave Roth who was on hand to snap photos of the sillyness. More of the photos can be found here.
{What you don't see is the SlimJim wand completing the RedNeckFairy outfit}
Shoot...I don't even thing Vegas would be willing to place a wager on that! What really gets me is I know the inventor of the Mitch Morgan drink you see highlighted in their flier. Crud...I think I hold the record for the largest Mitch Morgan EVER drank...and I most likely own the record for the 'shortest amount of time it took to lose a pair of pants after drinking a Mitch Morgan' as well.
And lastly...don't forget that SSCXWC are just over a week away! Honestly...it's been a year, and the only thing that has even come close to the amount of fun I had at the first SSCXWC was the RollerCross event we attended just a little while ago. 
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