Gangs Are Fun

The boys and I took a brief moment off the bike to pose for this shot half way through our ride. If you have a cross bike and don't mind a little pain you should be in our group photo next Sunday (unless you're the guy holding the camera).

Yellow is The New Black

There’s a debate brewing about which sprint signs are legal for earning points. Often the losing party disagrees with the excessive number of sprint points I acquire during cross rides. UCI states that stop ahead, county line and state line signs are the only sanctioned sprint locations. However section 24, article 7b, line 3 states that a race director may designate his or her own sprint locations with any preexisting yellow along the course. That translates to, “I can call the shots.” I’ve put on a race before therefore I've been a race director and I see no reason why that title will ever be stripped of me. 


Remember the 627 yellow reflectors on the road I beat you to, they count. The tiny stripe of yellow on a for sale sign, and yes the florescent yellow chewing gum stuck to the road counts to.

Let me know when you are ready to play fair.

Share your theme song with the world.

Bust out your favorite mix tape and listen up.

Zombies controlled by white wires snaked through their ear holes have invaded the trails. The antisocial bubbles bouncing through the single track are missing out on half of the trail experience. Why tune out when they could listen to chirping birds, foraging critters and my ringing bell signaling to get the the hell out of my way?

I'm not a big fan humans so I'm a prime candidate for cramming itty-bity speakers in my ears, but that's big reason I head to the woods. For the folks who want the complete aural package it's time to take a lesson from the streets and our forefathers who performed the worm and head spins. The only way to get the sounds of nature and Run-DMC is to strap a ghetto blaster to your bike and start a rolling block party. Leave the ipod at home and share your theme song with the world. If you get whipped by your friends on a group ride, challenge them to a dance off at the next water stop to regain your honor.

Giddy Up

There’s lots of things I’ve never seen in the Apalachicola National Forrest; an ivory billed woodpecker, alien spacecraft and pretty women are on the list. Jimbo led Silk and I on long swift dirt road ride through the forest today. The route passed the usual selection of wildlife, mobile meth labs and sand. Early on the ride we crossed paths with a couple cowboys guiding their horses down a dirt road somewhere between a swamp and pine trees. As expected the horses were spooked by our bikes so we pulled over to let them pass. The friendly riders mentioned their horses had never seen bikes before and thanked us for stopping. With a strait face the locals headed on their way telling us the cause of their horses alarm was seeing us with turtles on our heads.

I wonder what the next thing I’ve never seen will be?

How to Break a Fall

Each year I grumble a bit about the lack of color Fall brings to Tallahassee. Last year I took a trip to Boston to see colors reserved exclusively for magazine covers and the rest of the country. The supernatural leaves exceeded my expectations and led to further grumbling upon my return to Florida.

Yesterday I spent some time riding in the woods searching for a reason to take my camera out. While editing photos I finally realized that Fall in North Florida is superior to a northeastern Fall. Brilliant green leaves, bright yellow birds plus plenty of colorful berries and flowers. What really makes Florida colors the best around is that they morph all winter with fresh wild flowers sprinkled on top every few days.

The brief flash of warm colors in the northeast are a signal that your time outside is over so you better bust out a parka, snow shovel and TV guide. If the leaves changed colors here it would be a sign that blood sucking critters are gone and all of your time should be spent outside.

You folks in the north can keep your pretty leaves; I’ll buy the magazine when it comes out.

Water Bug

My running’s been hacked apart by plantar fasciitis and mountain bike life on a single speed has left me spun out and looking for speed. Finally the bug bit and the itch was scratched. A tow from my rut was provided by my new water cross bike and it's just what the podiatrist ordered. My handcrafted titanium frame with a 54cm top tube, sculpted shamrock dropouts and the perfect buoyancy for long open rides kicked my motivation into high gear (46 x 12 to be exact). Tomorrow’s a fun ride to Georgia; I wonder which sweater I should wear.

Choice & Consequence

The event in my backyard that laid to rest my expensive prescription glasses involved gas powered tools and is a story for another day. The loss was a blow to my ego, I've never lost a pair of glasses and still own my first pair. I tossed in my sleep throughout the night dreading the cost of replacement, eventually accepting their demise and my expense.

My luck turned this morning when I saw dew covered lenses in the middle of my backyard. Not only did I get my glasses back, I can spend the small pile of cash I saved by dodging the replacement pair. I'm torn between letting the money get sour and wilted in a bank vault or put it to use by purchasing a small portion of a Lynskey cyclocross frame hanging up at GBS.

Certainly my fiance does not have a hidden pillory in her yard?

Transformation

Cohabitation is when people live together in an emotionally intimate relationship. The term is most frequently applied to interracial tortoise-hippo couples.

Can I borrow your truck?

Burnt at the Stake

The cave I live in is so small that few people outside of it understand the humor of slipping on a pair of skinny jeans. I was held on trail Friday and Saturday night at two different parties. One in 15 jurist knew my Halloween costume was a parody of poser bike messengers who litter coffee shops of the US. One juror asked if I was a lumberjack and the rest cried witch. What is wrong with these people? Ok judge, light the fire and get it over with, my skinny jeans are starting to itch.