Note: This post was originally written 10/31/09. I’ve been busy.

Cross-country flight with a 16 month-old? I love this plan! I’m excited to be a part of it! LET’S DO IT!!

In September we flew out to Portland for some friends wedding. I was dreading the flight, and for part of the DCA-PHX my fears were realized. We were *that* family with the uncontrollable crying baby. It also turns out that I’m *that* father that stares right back at you with eyes saying, “Watch your back in the parking lot.” For the most part people were pretty understanding and in some cases helpful. So that was a nice change from the normal human interactions I experience. Okay, flight over.

Portland straight tripped me the **** out! It literally was every lifestyle I’ve ever been, everywhere, at all times. From punks, to skaters, artists, deadheads, outdoors gear hippies, and most of all cyclists, they were all there, co-mingling in their perpetual states of über-hipness. I’m pretty sure that we’d move out there if it wasn’t for family on the East Coast.

It was the bike culture that touched me the most. Cycling was everywhere. From the moment we entered the outskirts of Portland you saw it everywhere. Fixies locked to signs, people carting their groceries on cruisers, commuters keeping up with cars, and bike shops nearly on every corner set the tone for our stay. Once in the city proper, witnessing the bike lanes with designated bicycle stopping areas ahead of vehicles nearly brought a tear to my eye. I was already aware that Portland was bicycle friendly, but I wasn’t aware of the extent that it was ingrained into its culture.

You may be passing me, but I still look good!

The riding is going well, but I’m still horribly out of shape. And for some reason I’ve recently acquired a Toblerone addiction. I totally didn’t see that one coming. At least it’s a Euro-style addiction, so I can write it off as roadie-hipster. Speaking of roadie hipster, my dormant inner-sartorialist is finally emerging. But I’m saving that goodness for another post.

Back with the Revolution!

The real reason for the break in posts is I gots me a new job! I’m back in the inner-circle. I began working as an Assistant Buyer & Marketing Manager for Revolution Cycles here in DC/VA/MD. I originally worked for them starting back in 2000 until late 2004. We were just one location back in 2000, and by the time I left we had opened 3 more. Just a few weeks ago we announced plans for our 5th location, a bike share, rental, and commuter shop in Crystal City, VA.

My position is basically a combination of everything I love right now: bikes, bike parts, accessories, web + graphic design, and social marketing. I couldn’t ask for anything more. It’s an incredible opportunity. We’ve got big plans in the works and I’ll release some tidbits from time to time when I can. Of course, you’ll be much more up to date if you follow us on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and Flickr. Just saying.

How else do they get up those mountains?

So most of our heroes doped. Who cares! Everyone was doping then! The battles were epic. The climbers had wings. The sprinters were demons. And the rouleurs just ruled. But to keep the UCI vampires off our backs, we added an asterisk to show we don’t condone doping.

Team PDM – Ultima

This shirt celebrates the legendary Dutch PDM team who notoriously pulled out of the ‘91 Tour de France with “food poisoning”. Turns out it was a rotten nutritional aid they were injected with. Oh those wacky team doctors! The riders implicated were: Eric Breukink, Nico Verhoeven, Raul Alcala, Sean Kelly and Joes Van Aert. Those are NOT small names in the world of cycling.

The shirt

Out of all the logo editions I’ve created, this is the only one that is altered to this extent. I’ve changed from Avant Garde to Helvetica to match the PDM jersey more closely. I liked the typo treatment of the PDM logo so I thought it would convey the message better if changed. The colors are as close as I can get without the vector being a sublimation on spandex. It’s not perfect, but neither were they!

Available in the Cycleboredom gift shop. Although Spreadshirt displays the image strangely I’ve been assured that they print correctly.

Whatevs, hippy.

I started out writing some touchy-feely, hippy schmaltz that really just complicated a dead-simple point – pay attention to your surroundings; the earth looks real good. I love where I ride. The DC/Metro area is beautiful. Sure, your local route may have mountains, or wide open country where there aren’t cars for hours but I think it’s important for people to truly appreciate what they have, regardless of where they are.

Ride freely on your lightest days

I bring a camera with me everywhere. The moment I don’t, inevitably I see something worth flogging myself for not having it with me. If you don’t want to have a camera with you on every ride just bring it on your recovery days. My portable camera has gotten a little heavier than it used to be so I only take it with me on my light rides. Obviously the reason why light/recovery days are good is that your already going slow, so stopping and starting isn’t going to be a huge deal. When I’m hammering it’s mentally impossible for me to compose a shot immediately after stopping. If something truly snapworthy pops up on a normal ride that’s the luck of the draw. Either that or I use the camera on the phone.

Graham baby, make sure to get my sponsors

If take your recovery ride so seriously that you can’t break your cadence or fluctuate your HRM average, then this post isn’t for you, yet you probably have Graham Watson following you in the support car chronicling your every move. Just tell Graham to take a shot of the pretty trees.

Anyway, just pay attention to your surroundings for a least one ride out of your training week. You’ll love what you see. Maybe. Hell, I don’t care. Do you you want.

Enjoy the silence

I’ve tried it. Maybe I’ll try it again someday, but until then, I ride in silence. I need that silence. When I’m working I always have music on which is necessary for me to get anything done. But it is a stimulus. Add in Twitter, Facebook, RSS feeds, FriendFeed, and email and you’ve got a lot of crap running around your brain. When I get on my bike, it’s a complete separation from all of that. I get to concentrate on the ride, hear the wind, birds, cars getting too close, Cat 4 riders blowing past me too close, and well you get the point. I like listening to what’s around me. It simply clears my head. Almost.

I have deep thoughts about my hopes and dreams

On rare occasions I have epiphanies during my rides but mostly it’s sarcastic reactions to what I see. There’s a lot of interesting **** out there (at least in the DC/Metro area) and it usually sparks something. Unfortunately I end up forgetting it before I can get home. Well starting today, I’m going to try and record some of those thoughts during ride (iPhone recorder) so I can bore the hell out of you here. Hence the blog name. Plus, if you didn’t think it could get any worse, I’m going to force feed you my kit selection for the ride.

Bicicleta Fashionista

Today I was channeling Chris Horner. Okay, maybe just the jersey and the shaved head, but close enough. On second thought, maybe not the shaved head since Chris is bald and my Wahl clippers set on No.1 gets me where I need to be, but you get the point. Also, I know Chris is an Oakley man so my Rudy Kerosenes aren’t historically accurate. But I do have the team issued Louis Garneau yellow helmet that Saturn team wore. Unfortunately it’s past its freshness date so I can’t wear it anymore.

There’s got to be something wrong with me.

List of random ridiculousness!

• “Stand by THIS mutha****a!” – I was riding by two African-American boys no more than 10 years old walking towards a huge outdoor picnic/gathering. They were having what looked like a good time joking with each other. One of them had is arm on the shoulders of the other and it looked like a perfect scene from the movie Stand By Me. At that same moment the one with his arm on the other turned to look at me and his face instantly changed. “What the **** you lookin’ at white ass?” It didn’t exactly register and the kid didn’t give me a chance, instantly firing again, “Look at your white ass!” I just started to laugh and shake my head. That **** gets taught early. Very, very sad. He is right though, I’m Irish/German, I have no pigment. I just burn hideously, turning a grotesque shade of pink and fleshy red, then back to paste once I’ve healed. Regardless, hooray for race relations.



• Your back hair looks like a tramp stamp – To all guys: bibs are not strange. People who know, ride nothing but. In fact, it’s strange not to ride with them. There are benefits other than being Euro-racer cool. Like for instance, when your bargain Pearl shorts roll down in the back while your cheap sleeveless jersey rides up exposing your virgin lower back and tuft of butt carpet resembling the butterfly tramp stamp on the nice lady I paid $20 to shake in my face last night. Hers was magnificent and career appropriate, yours is a disgrace. As were the exposed skin rolls oozing over the edges of your shorts. Bibs keep my extra energy storage neatly tucked away.
• The wrong way is safer! – You know who I’m talking about. The walkers, runners, and for ****’s sake cyclists who insist on doing their thing against traffic so they can see what’s coming. I’ll admit in some cases it makes sense to be able to watch for oncoming cars. Some cases. In this case it is not. Hains Point is a big one-way loop. It has two lanes that are generous in size. If you ride on the right-hand side , the cars and busses can pass you on left, in their own lane! Problem is, these douchebags feel as though they can do any damn thing they want so they ride, run, walk, skate, saunter, hover in what essentially is a passing lane. This isn’t normal behavior so those that aren’t used to that idiocy suddenly see these people at the last second, swerving to the right. Yup, that means right into me. It happens a lot. So as a warning to those cyclists that see fit to ride the wrong way on a one-way street: If you cause me to be struck by a car or a frakking tour bus and I haven’t perished from the impact and subsequent dragging, I will find you, pass you, half-wheel your ass, and return not to see if you’re alright, but to piss on your open facial wounds. Enjoy.
• That’s your chain bro – To the dude with the Colnago EPS, Fulcrums, and Record: That sound means you’re cross-chaining. Don’t disrespect the bike.

UPDATE: In my haste to make this the worst post ever I neglected to mention where I stole my images from. Hopefully the limited amount of people visiting this site will visit their work as well!

• Balding Chris Horner shot courtesy of Frank Steele

I’ve been sitting on this article from the Asheville Citizen-Times and it’s comments for about a week now since it was Tweeted. Unfortunately I can’t remember who posted it first, so I apologize. The reason I’ve been hesitant and unable to write about it, is the unadulterated anger that it provokes from me.

I’ll say this first. Regardless of what road the family was riding on – it could’ve been the center median of I-95 for all I care – it does NOT, I repeat NOT justify the thought process of pulling out a gun and shooting at someone to get your point across. I cannot believe that this man honestly thought this was an acceptable idea. Here’s my take on his inner dialogue during the encounter. Granted I’ve written this in complete sentences. It’s also narrated with a coherence not commonly associated with those suffering from misfiring brain synapses induced by deep, repetitive inbreeding.

“Damn! This guy really doesn’t think that riding on this road with his child is unsafe. I’m going to shoot him not only to prove my point, but to show I have concern for their well-being. That will make it all better and they will be safe now.”

But wait, it gets better. If you truly want to ruin yourself and the last shred of hope you have for human compassion, read the comments. Not only are the the typical anti-cyclist fare, but the actually support the act. A horrifically numerous amount of these hill dwellers believe that shooting the father in front of his son and his wife would be for THE GOOD OF THE CHILD! WHAT THE **** IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?

I can’t believe this genetic disaster actually knows what a computer is, much less stop smoking meth long enough to add their comment. I can’t even bring myself to copy the text so I screenshot it. It disgusts me that much.

Oh, my bad. It was JUST a warning shot. And obviously since he’s a firefighter “we all know he only had the best intentions in mind.” The second paragraph proves that the Hatfields are smoking some DAMN good meth.

I’ve had my run-ins with motorists that were completely unprovoked. I’ve been hit by quarters and liquids, chased, and cut off simply because I was on a bike. As angry as I get during those situations you always have to tell yourself, “What if they have a gun/knife/musket/one-eyed freak child?” I’m wearing bike shoes, spandex, and I’m ultimately defenseless.

(NOTE: The rest of this post has been redacted by my own doing. It goes a direction that makes me no better than those described above. I’m taking the hippy, peace, love, kind smoking stance and cutting myself off. I’m sure you know what I meant anyway.)

(ANOTHER NOTE: I’m well aware that the Hatfield/McCoy feud happened in the back countries of West Virginia and Kentucky. I referenced it as a derogatory stereotypical generalization of the unbelievable backwoods mentality shown by the shooter and the ensuing commenters.)