Standy Andy and His Storckstravaganza

Wednesday Group Ride

Life is just a bowl of pork chops. And so it was written, in gossamer tear drops, as Jeremy, Jittery Jed and yours truly waited on Andy downtown for a chillaxed post-work ride. The Storck van rumbled up and out pops Andy in Storck kit and white Oakleys circa 1992. After 15 minutes of gum flapping and Andy-primping, we get rolling. Destination: Fort Jackson.

Andy was kind enough to let the Blog exchange his Lobster for a Storck Fenomalist. 14 pounds with Dura Ace and Syntace cockpit. Crimony. The bike rode smooth as silk and accelerated like Rush Limbaugh's heart at a pharmacists convention. Handling was snappy as was its climbing abilities. Ride conversation touched all the bases like bikes, work, wine, women, song, GI Joe DVD re-releases, all liberally peppered with Andy's Smokey Mountain idioms. Jed gave a concise rundown of the pros and cons of four different carbon tubular wheel brands. Much knowledge was dropped and The Blog came to the conclusion that Zipps are the most bang for your buck but Reynolds would be a heavy-duty secondary choice. One rear flat deflated the tail end of the ride, but Andy's experience with Vanderkitten as their race mechanic had the flat changed in record time. Those ladies are in capable hands. You can almost taste the sarcasm! And yes, Andy had 3 different I-Pods with him on the ride and seemed disappointed he cold only use one. Seriously, three I-Pods on a group ride. Andy followed The Blog home back through Shandon as we bid adieu and wished each other luck in our travels. We shall miss that candy-obsessed man-child.
On bike isometric exercises

Andy follows me home, a la Michael Myers in that state hospital station wagon from "Halloween"

Finally got some good post ride data. The solid line is an average between my awesomeness and seriosity divided by "b'lee dat". The range goes from 10 to 1000 to the 10th power (1.0 x 10 to the 30th). The dotted line measures my urge to pee adjusted to bladder wall pressure. I printed the info out after the ride from my new Awesomenosity computer, "Awe Snap!" (made by Sigma). Metachlorian count held steady for the duration of the ride.If I can sustain this level of awesomeness through July, my Metachlorian count will be at Jedi levels by September. Then comes the mind control stuff. Degobah never had it so good.

In Memoriam: John Bryan

A "cycling giant" (an understatement) from The Blog's hometown passes away:

Pong Secretz

Nothing brings an office together like ping pong. Nothing brings together an IT department like the prospect of hunting homeless people for sport. In lieu of "the most dangerous game", Dr. Philgood and Brian (Life Of) take to the paddles for a secret match to determine IT supremacy in a world on the verge of collapse...

Gravel Travel

A few Hawley folk traveled up to Asheville to throw down at the Gentlemen's Race hosted by an anonymous Cane Creek stooge. The first KOM sucked, the following time trial was abhorrent, the Avery Creek KOM was diabolical and the slimy paste of Gatorade and road dust on my water bottle's spout made each swallow a larynxical adventure. To put it mildly, this easily ranks in the top five of the most epic rides/races I have ever had the misfortune of signing up for. Big ups to Brooklyn ya'll!

Pete and Pete

Just a quick glance at a couple interesting things on Pete's (Cane Creek honcho) bike from Saturday's race:

New Old Stock Campy Crank
Form over function water "bottle" which was changed out before the time trial... and never seen again

FRIDAY POST PART 2: IN MEMORIUM

Andy's loving tribute to the King of Pop somewhere in Texas. And yes, he forced me to post these...
Shine on you crazy diamond!

Dachsund Baby

Heavy hearts yesterday after Brantley sent this link about a down-but-not-out cyclist friend of The Hawley Company who was hit. Get well soon Todd! We shall save you a spot in the ping pong tournament, but you will still have to pay the outrageously high entry fee. Pay close attention to some of the comments pertaining to the article. There are a few "gems", but for the most part, the readers side with the cyclist, contrary to some our local readers.


In more uplifting news, Florida outside sales rep supremo Bruce graced the purchasing office with his pet Dachshund. He was a nice pooch and since The Blog didn't catch his name, a culturally appropriate one shall be provided: Wolfgang. Bruce decided to visit at lunch time, which was not smart as Brad in shipping was out of wieners but had a surplus of hot dog buns. I saw him peering around the corner rubbing his hands as Wolfgang trotted by. Not today dog eater, not on The Blog's watch! Trust no one Wolfgang. The Blog hopes everyone has a restful weekend. I shall be somewhere in Asheville on a nasty 70+ dirt road ride testing the limits of my Khamsins (still the most bang for your Campy buck) and my precious Okole chamois cream, then it's US versus Brazil on Sunday. And you shall know us by the trail of the dead (Brazilians)....Wolfgang's favorite Yugoslavian Mountain Hound insult comedian at his best...

Of Peregrine Falcons and Poisonous Berries...

Roland:

It haunts my dreams:
For some reason, Argentina has been on The Blog's mind of late. Perhaps it all started during my week-long sojourn along the Appalachian Trail as I searched for piece of mind amongst the bucolic splendor of the great outdoors. Alas, it was not to be found as the trappings of modern life constantly invaded my solitude. Upon my arrival back at the offices, I hurriedly penned a message to Derrick announcing my displeasure with society, air conditioning and Minesweeper. I dragged my cubicle into the surrounding woods, doffed my clothing, adopted a pugnacious yet loving peregrine falcon named Roland who obeys my commands and commenced to revolutionizing the bicycle distribution industry the only way possible: by growing a huge, stinky beard, wearing a loincloth made from a Deda mechanics apron, and eating as many poisonous red berries as my stomach could hold. The first night was unpleasant. The second, unbearable. The third, a little chilly. Then the hallucinations started and it was a never-ending montage of old Native American men smoking peace pipes, flaming bald eagles, mirrors shattering, pocket watch hands spinning and ominous black clouds churning on an ever expanding horizon. Thank you very much poisonous berries! As I write this, Roland is nursing me back to health, regurgitating a nourishing mush of grasshoppers and earthworms into my mouth every hour or so. He is a caring peregrine falcon and I shall miss him when he is eaten, by me. We have received new RED and BLUE Sugino road cranks (CRKS3430 and 3436). With every purchase, you receive a dream catcher or your choice of poisonous berry. I would take the berry option. "It tastes like... burning!"

Maul Rat

(Crucial.)

The Blog was supposed to write about the Blue and Red Sugino track cranks we just got in and its correlation to Jerry's (receiving) ping pong prowess. However, Lil' E up at Cane Creek slipped this nugget of joy into my inbox this morning. Pretty sure it has spread like wild fire across the interwebular threads as nothing captures the public's attention like a good ole fashioned child mauling... But a child mauling by bicycle is an even rarer occurance! Both child and cyclist escaped relatively unharmed, unlike child maulings of yore where the fatality rate was around 100 percent, but then again, a velocipede impacting a scurvy-stricken, wharf rat of an orphan was never a fair fight, but oh how it did entertain! That is all gentle reader...

Hubba Hubba!

(Hobo Symbology Guide)
Riding around town is always full of surprises. Whether it's a decaying squirrel carcass hidden beneath a brown paper bag in the middle of Assembly street that you run over by accident only to discover bright red squirrel gore splattered on the downtube of your bicycle or the traffic light at the corner of Millwood and Woodrow has malfucntioned and is showing green for both directions, you can be sure to expect the unexpected if not tons of squirrel corpses. Yesterday's ride was no exception as I came across two strange items (in addition to squirrel corpses) of interest and note. First, a giant slab of marble countertop resting on the sidewalk on Sumter street near the bus station. It was approximately 18 feet long about seven feet tall. Scrawled on it like a remnant of hobo symbology was this:


After debating the meaning and intent of the pictogram, The Blog rolled down Main Street, frantically waving at slack jawed touristas and giving words of encouragement to hobos sifting though the flotsam and jetsam of weekend revelry. Outside a local watering hole whose relation to anti-Jacksonian legislative branch authority is well-known in these parts, a familiar frame was spied locked to a trash bin. Upon closer inspection, it seems the ride's owner had ponied up for a new set of Dura Ace hubs! Zounds! And to think the young lad or lass left these hubs out overnight, possibly longer than that inviting all sorts of sticky fingered CHUDs to abscond with the flangular foci.

Methinks that is a Salsa post as well, but I can't be one hundred percent certain!

Canoe Help Me?

Oh the canoe, what a wondrous and useful invention. Some would say more so than the bicycle. The first one, constructed in the Netherlands was made back somewhere between 7500 and 8200 BC. Of course, Brantley would say he made them well before that to transport his cat urine moonshine. Unfortunately no-one besides him had a taste for it's salty goodness and it's history has since been reduced to mumbled legend since B-the rant-lee is the only passer of such knowledge. I have one of my own that I use in Native American reenactments. It is a Kevlar- birch bark hybrid that I carved straight out of a plastic tree.



I have tried many techniques for transporting my vessel over the years. This was one of first vehicles that I made from washing machine and a tandem recumbent. I spent so much time fighting off the ladies, that I had to sell it for something less flashy.



My most recent version is by far the most thought out and pleasing to the eye. I spared no expense, using only the finest pieces of untreated pine 2x4 for that rustic,"I don't care about money." look.



Here, you can see the side profile. When I look at it from this angle, I cannot help but think how even a time trial cyclist would appreciate such a low profile and sleek airflow. Notice the dimpled wheels and bug-flector to further reduce drag. If only Kenny and his windsock of a "gross-bike" wasn't holding me back. I could have been pulling negative drag.


On a completely off subject note, I came across an old picture of sweet Micheal "skeered" Bronson as a younger lad just after he graduated high school. So glad he grew out of them ears.