Have A Bloodbath/Pogrom-Free Weekend!

Tis’ the end of the week! Huzzah! We hope you have extricated yourself from the week-long toil Dame Fortune has chosen to manacle yourself to for the foreseeable future. Whether it’s goose-throttler or bundle-hurler, widow-napper or carriage polisher, your gainful employment and the small pittance you earn and take to your local cyclery for the latest bobble or trinket is what pays to have our executive washroom’s urinals gilded in the finest gold and jewels! Plebians, teak croquet mallets and palanquins carved from the tusks of wooly mammoths don’t pay for themselves! So it is in this generous frame of mind that the Hawley Company bids you to frolic and cavort amongst nature’s most precious treasures this weekend. If you find yourself in West Asheville recovering from another blood pudding/absinthe binge with your cretinous cohorts, then feel free to drop by the estate and I’m sure we shall find some sort of gainful distraction to employ you in. Have you done much horseshoe cobbling? Ascot laundering?

At least one person has a sense of humor when it comes to the recent "cyclist shot in the helmet by psychopath" incident in Asheville.


(taken yesterday evening on the commute home from work. "Our fair city!")

CXORAMMCRKCRSING

Baller.

Arrrrr, Guile: Wooleator Commute

(CLTH6711)

The Blog has girded its feet in many a lightweight, "breathable" sock for the oppressive summer morning commutes this season. As quality laundry time has been at a premium, The Blog was scraping the bottom of the barrel of the sock drawer this morning until gold was struck in the form of a forgotten pair of Defeet Wooleator argyles.

Hot corn! They were just what the doctor ordered, if your physician, like mine, is completely insane and prescribes socks instead of antibiotics. Still haven't shaken this nagging case of scurvy/tooth rot/the vapors. In addition to the revelation of the Wooleators as a summertime commuter, The Blog thought the sky looked particularly beautiful this morning, enfusing ghastly bits of nocturnal flotsam from the urban shipwreck that is Rosewood Drive with a patina of rose and tangerine. Still smelled like vomit, urine and battery acid. I love my city!


And for you weight weenies, the Wooleators weigh in at an impressive 60 grams soaking wet!


And for you work bench weight weenies, the DS-2 digital scale weighs in at a scant 246 grams! Weighing a scale on a scale? Did I just blow your mind? William Gibson has nothing on The Blog. Happy Thursday imbeciles!!!!!!!

Wednesday Morning Tweets Of Interest

Interesting, from Bradley Wiggins. By the way, "Wiggin' Out" would be a great name for his blog. Is that term even used in the UK? :


Interesting tweet from Shaq concerning Marbury's vaseline-eating meltdown (feel free to google it). Pretty sure you would never see Tom Danielson eating a handful of chamois butter, but then again, I have never met Tom Danielson...

Children Of The ORAMM

A few random shots courtesy of Kelly Smith. First up, Rich Dillen railing a switchback on his Moots in a jazzy BLACK AND WHITE Moots kit! Look at those white Stan's hoops! 8 inch front rotor!





Women's Open class winner Carey Lowery shows good form on the downhill. She won by a "country mile" and was gracious enough to donate her winnings to The Blog.


Ole Bloggy on his Hawley race bike. I.e., all these parts came from the Hawley catalog. It's like a rolling advertisement people! American Classic wheels, Avid brakes, FSA Cockpit, Cane Creek 110, Thomson Elite Post, Selle Italia Saddle, Ergon Gripz, Stylo Crankset, XTR Pedals. Pay no attention to the tires or frame...

Post-TDF Twitters From American Cycling Glitterati

First, sad news from Big George Hincapie...

Second, vacation news from Lance Armstrong...And third, a stun gun capable of shocking three people before reloading, courtesy of DZ....

ORAMM-ifications

This Sunday saw Jeremy attempt his first ORAMM. This morning, Dr. J referred to it as a "character builder". Not sure what he meant by that, but he had a good time and didn't kill himself on Kitsuma or Heartbreak! It was good seeing all sorts of kind folk from the blogosphere. Even Dicky rolled up and chatted ever so briefly about my tire choice as I licentiously eyed his wheel set. White rims forever! Anyhoo, a write-up would be pointless at this time, but if you wade through the local cycling blogs, you're sure to find all sorts of harrowing accounts of cheating death! Oh yeah, while riding along Kitsuma the second time, a black bear clattered through the woods 20 yards away. Jiminy crickets, that got me to the finish a lil' sooner...

Monday Morning Spit Take Moment

Click on the link and prepare to have your collective minds (hive-mind, if you insist) blown!!!

(courtesy of Eric Creek)

"Have A Frank And Productive Weekend"

Is that a Principal Skinner quote? Can't remember, brain cortex packed...full...of Zaxby's...difficult...to type. Ugh. Anyhoo, some of us Hawley folk are doing the ORAMM thing this weekend while at least one of us (Jeremy) is actually racing. Pretty sure the lanky leprechaun, the freckled freak, the Southern Dandy, the Origami-Mommy is coming into late season form and as he eats Pisgah gnar for afternoon tea, a dominating performance along the lines of a Van Halen "Hot For Teacher" drum intro is in the offing. Jer desecrated an 8 by 10 glossy of Sam Koerber with his own body waste this morning. Then he autographed and mailed it to Willow!!!!!! Booyah! By the way, Troy (inside sales) is living la dolce vita at Disney World right now. He sends us this greeting, from the vacuumous inner reaches of space...

Cadel For The Win Today?

He's leaving his team at the end of the season so maybe he'd like to leave The Tour with a bang, or something gross in the toilet at the team hotel? What does that have to do with inflatable toast or Unicorn vengeance? More than you know, more than you know...

More Time Trials And Tribulations

Hawley gumshoe reporter Kyle (many thanks) gives us another "crash as it happened". This time, it's Allesandro Ballan, the world road race champion, slippin' and slidin' across the tarmac. Get a load of that team car! Custom roof rack!!!

The "Predator" Theater Players Discuss Le Tour

Stage 17...

The "Predator" Theater Players Present: Lost On Fort Jackson!

This weekend was supposed to be a leisurely ride around Fort Jackson to test the hydration capacity of my new Camelbak 24 ounce Podium bottle. Kind of similar to a product review but with less relevant information and more "totally made up" information. It's just a water bottle, how much reviewing can be done? Sadly, a great deal can be discussed about the Podium Bottle but first, a tale of intrigue and misdirection, of desperation and horse poop.


After rolling to the fort, I decided to jump onto the Palmetto Trail instead of staying on the pavement. It was hot and sunny and I knew the mud would be non-existent. How wrong I was! I found the entrance off of Semmes Rd and must've taken a wrong turn as I suddenly found myself intersecting fireroad after fireroad after a few miles of riding. "Hmmm, where did the trail go? Maybe this IS the trail?"


I didn't have a map but I had a good idea of the general direction i was traveling in so I kept rolling along, slowly unnerving myself by the increasing number of fireroads veering off into new directions. I tried to listen for the sound of traffic and maneuver my way towards it. Every time I would pop out of the woods, I was confounded by a chain link fence. Drat!

I would turn around and continue on my way, now totally lost as I couldn't locate any of my tire tracks. Was this the Twilight Zone? The Matrix? My own private Idaho? Oh yes, I almost forgot about the mud. The ankle deep slop, the consistency of pottery clay and quicksand, infused with horse poop, was unrideable. Heck, it was almost unwalkable and for some reason, it was everywhere.

(my bike, standing on its own in 5 inches of slop!)

I could almost see the E-coli making a beeline to my stomach (next stop diarrhea!) as I took dainty sips from my gunk-caked Podium bottle, soon to be re-named, the Immodium bottle. Covered in mud, I started to lose my mind. Perhaps I would never escape? Perhaps I had died and this was some sort of Sartre-esque purgatory? As I teetered, nay, barreled towards madness, I came across a large truck laden with soldiers.

After removing my pine cone crown and poison ivy monocle, wiping the mud from my face, arms, legs and torso and girding my loins in my tattered bib shorts, I informed them that "I had lost my way" and in need of guidance to the Palmetto Trail. They kindly led me to the nearest road and after a few nervous exchanges, I bid them adieu. God bless the army!


So in conclusion, while the Palmetto Trail is easily rideable on a cross bike, the firebreaks are a swarming cluster of molassified death. Also, the Camelbak Podium water bottle repels horse poop 20 percent better than most so buy twelve from your local dealer and say "YES!" to proper summer time hydration. That is all.

Menchov Mice And Men

Kyle returned from Europe and brought a couple goodies in the form of on-the-spot crash pictures. Here's Giro winner Denis Menchov kissing the pavement after the start of the team time trial! That's some good looking form and true to his reputation, Menchov popped up and got back on the bike...






He's OK folks!

"P is for Psycho!"

Seems like Charles Manson or that guy from "Duel" got a job driving big rigs laden with industrial waste as he tried to kill me this morning during my commute to work. I felt the icy touch of death's cold finger flick me in the ear (or was it a piece of plastic rigging?) as the overladen semi rolled past me, forcing me off the road and into some slack jawed yokel's front yard. Not wanting Large Marge to ruin my morning, I hopped back onto the road and caught up with the 18 wheeled instigator at a red light. We exchanged pleasantries along these lines: "Top o' the mornin!", "Indeed, top o' the mornin to you as well!", "Please forgive me if my bicycle was taking up too much space on the road. Shan't happen again!", "Aye, apology accepted!", "[expletive-laced rant]", "[expletive-laced retort]"


Stay away from this truck or YOU WILL DIE!

Heinrich Haussler Wins Stage 13, Creeps Out The World

From Cyclingnews:
"Confounding his critics and mesmerizing his supporters, Haussler donned a giant rabbit mask for the last part of Stage 13. An elated Hausser said, after crossing the finish line, 'I am a rabbit trapped in a man's body. I must eat carrots. I must breed. I must poop out perfectly shaped spheres. Many thanks to my sponsors today.' While Hauser's antics are nothing new, teammate Thor Hushovd thinks Hauser's latest behavior is 'a gross misrepresentation of man-rabbits' and finds constant pooping in the team bus 'a distraction'"

Big Daddy Canis

It's Friday and that means time to harvest another sacrifice to appease the shipping gods. Assistant street urchin Larry, prepare the orphan chipper! Make haste, make haste! As that stuporous half-wit readies the infernal device, a brief tale of another orphan, of the four legged variety. Yesterday morning before lunch, I pointed out a hapless dog lying down underneath a semi truck in our shipping dock. "Perhaps that cur would make an appropriate sacrifice to the shipping gods? How but it old chum?" As luck would have it, the young pooch ventured into the warehouse through an open door and quickly befriended the shipping staff (except Mark, who makes Clint Eastwood in "Fist Full Of Dollars" look like Mr. Freaking Rogers). After much head scratching and pow-wowing followed by an ether-induced hallucination bout, we decided to put our newfound castaway in the second break room with a blanket for resting and bowl of water for water-bowling. More calls were made but canis novus was without a home. Finally, after much soul-searching (for those of us who have one, I'm looking right at you Geoff in receiving! No wonder you never appear in photographs), Ian Foyster said, "Alightalllltekth'yoongpoop'omw'mayt'li'on'm'fahmw'm'uhohses" (All right, I'll take the young pup home with me to live on my farm with my horses!" Hooray! A happy ending, except for the hapless orphans. Alas, street urchin Larry is giving me the thumbs up. Fire up the chipper you skirt-wearing poodle walker!!! There are gods to be apppeased!!!

(Woof!)

Another triumph!

Well, it appears The Blog's crystal ball worked wonders yet again as my prediction of Nicki Sörensen to win today's stage came to fruition! I'd tell you, gentle reader, who shall win tomorrow's stage but that would spoil the race for millions of rabid Tour fans. I have my scruples. That is all.

Josh Predicts...

... a Tom Boonen victory today! Really???

"Interesting Trades Considered"

Today's ride into work was fairly uneventful... except for a vehicle I espied whose radical if not absurd appearance was overshadowed by the fact that it was "for sale" and had "a few minor issues". Do you have "a few minor issues"? If so, maybe this is your dream ride? If I didn't ride into work, I might not have had my mind blown this morning! Ride to work people!

Too much camouflage trim? Pffft, never enough you tofu eating hippy!
Tail light kit? Check. Rims? Check. Uber-shady body work hiding God knows what? Booyah!
In your face license plate frame NOT included but can be if you can live up to its stirring message of hope, perseverance and the imminent arrival of "hell":

The ubiquitous duck hunting themed decal. Crimony, I loved Duck Hunt as a kid. At once aristocratic, yet urbane, it highhandedly revolutionized the 8 Bit Nintendo:

They say honesty is the best policy. If that's the case, then surely this is nonsensical jibberish not worth reading. Pray tell good sir, where is the deed to this steed? You had me at "AC not cold" (i.e. "broken"):

I Stand Corrected

Mjolnir Beatdown Imminent?

Not sure what counts as pre-race smack talk in the world of road racing, but it seems Thor Hushovd and his Cervelo teammates are trying to get under Columbia's skin, well, Cavendish's pasty white anglo skin. Should make for an interesting finish today, which would be a nice change of pace.. Straight outta Thor's gob: "Columbia is maybe not so strong anymore"

Getting Beached Out

I'm not really going to ramble much about what I have seen. You will know what I have seen, after you see it. We got lost on the way to Holden Beach and came across this really sketchy place. I returned in the safety of daylight to find that I was still not safe. I parked with the engine running and facing the street. Must be a Junkyard or maybe Chris Maret's house. I would be equally cautious to use the bathroom in either one.

This is the Hurse from the previous picture driven by "Chucky" from AFI's #11 film, Child's Play. In the back seat was Elvira and Dracula. I would post those pictures but I know you guys need your sleep.

I am going to guess that the "artist" here is southern as he depicts two Confederate soldiers hanging a Union one.

Behind this fence is the largest herd of unicorns I have seen to date. I would have gotten closer, but it was guarded by a Liger, and we all know you dont mess with a Liger near the Ocean. They draw their power from baby dolphins and they are at a high count in this area.

This escaped convict wouldn't stop "makin eyes" at me. I took a picture of him in his stolen police car and then blinded him by reflecting my watch in the sun. Take that!

I guess the cop in the back of the car was tired and asked his "cargo" to take a turn driving. Nice people around here. Even convicted killers.

Oh joy, nothing stirs the spirits like discovering the rental bike dumpsite for all of the kidnapped tourists, lured in by a brand new Coke machine. I was actually scared off by some weird sounds and could not get a few other things. The inside of the building was a full replica of a funeral home visitation with Richard Nixon giving a eulogy. I wonder if this guy would watch my stuff while I go inside......

Last but not least, I saw some idiot unicycling on the beach. He must be skilled.

Before the Weekend Arrives...

... a brief photo-missive from our Tour correspondent McNasty and Will the G. Apparently, they had primo seats for the post-race dispensing of plush lion dolls and emotionless French spokemodel androids, from the future. So yeah, as of this writing, pretty sure Fabulous is no longer in yellow...
For more enhanced Tour coverage, click here and here. The Blog shall be riding around the Fort and beyond later today. Look for the ugliest kit on the road and feel free to make an obscene gesture. That is all.

COMMUTER BIKE OF THE WEEK...

... belongs to Teenwolf, not by choice, but because the lupine lothario is getting married next week and demanded, at claw-point to have his ridiculous old school Euskaltel Orbea featured as commuter of the week. But first things first. Teenwolf and Mary are getting hitched and as is the custom around here, an awkward photo of the loving couple must be posted with the requisite creeper in the background. Congrats Jose, your creep factor just increased six fold. You're approaching Fergie levels.

Here are some pictures of the frame the guys at Orbea were generous enough to give Teenwolf. Can't hold a candle to a Storck, but it'll do for rides under 5 km in length,as a grocery getter or as kindling:

MTB pedals Teenwolf? I see you've stolen yet another idea from The Blog!


Top tube sticker? Just because Kyle is in Europe watching the Tour doesn't mean you get to steal his "cover any blank space with a sticker" technique of frame adornment/desecration!

Everybody loves Mary, but it takes a special woman to love a man who "makes mississippi mudpies" in his shorts on a weekly basis. Oh Teenwolf, that guilty look on your face speaks volumes. You just made another mudpie, didn't you??!?!?!?

Spartanburg, SC: Empty Wasteland, Cruiser Bike Paradise

Brace yourselves for another photo essay. But seriously, nobody reads blogs, they look at blogs, they stare at blogs, they gaze mindlessly at blogs, and lets face it, pictures are easier on the eyes than mysterious symbols that may or may not form words that may or may not mean anything. So to summarize, here are three of The Blog's favorite cruiser, commuter, townie accessories: The Summit Wicker Basket aka The Malt Liquor Casket (BASK4145), the Gyes Two Pocket Saddle Bag (BAGS1608)) and the Mirrycle Jellibell (BELL1065). Technically, these are not the Blog's favorite accessories but the Blog's younger older sister. They are mounted to her trusty Electra and served her well during the frostbite inflicting winter and the pit-drenching summer. We rode from her house (in Spartanburg, SC) along the new Hub City bike path to the farmer's market downtown. Oh the adventures we had! Think Peckinpah's "Wild Bunch" meets Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" meets David Lee Roth's "Crazy From The Heat"... on bicycles!

The Electra decked out in resplendant commuter garb!
The Denny's world headquarters building looms ominously on the horizon. One day, it shall kill us all...

One of several bicycle themed sculptures downtown! This is not one of them!
Outsider art! Outsider art! I think we have our first Outsider art sighting of the summer!
The Blog purchases 70 to 80 percent of his Kangols from "Fresh Fashions". Official sponsor of the 1992 Tour Dupont!
The Summit Wicker basket laden with fresh flowers, fresh zucchini and "make your own" salsa...Daniel Morgan Square, the most dangerous place in the world...
Booyah! Bike lane for safety and instant bicycle themed photography...

Decomissioned missile silo turned into clock towers...
Wacky little bike rack which deceives the eye!
New Spartanburg skate park...
Something is amiss...

Southside Loop Trail=Moderate Fun!

Behold, the primitive trail-ular wonderment that is the Southside Loop in bucolic Spartanburg, SC! During a brief sojourn to pay homage to The Blog's mater and pater, The Blog dropped by Southside as it has been eons since the last ride. This time however, the camera was on board and that means painstakingly detailed documentation of Piedmont gnar. In all actuality, the gnar quotient is fairly low when compared to true gnar like Pisgah or Camloops but the gnar ain't the reason you ride Southside. The reason for Southside is to chill out and roll around on singletrack as you let your mind wander. But a word of caution, too much wandering and pondering and you'll be eating trail rock like The Blog. Stupid off camber turn! Anyhoo, Southside is in great shape considering the amount of storms that have rolled through in the past month. Many humble thanks to UMBA and/or Upstate SORBA. There is also a footbridge that spans Fairforest Creek so you can access the Palmetto Trail and let your freak flag fly, if you get past the bridge trolls...and their excessive toll! Enough mindless drivel, on with the endless stream of boring, rider-less pictures of anonymous trail!

Gnarly ravine on the Idaho trail:

"Raw Like Sushi"

Say hello to the newest member of the Hawley family, Sushi! Dave Carson (purchasing hefe) and his better half (wife) adopted this furry lil' ball of love and vital organs to help keep squirrels and miniature trolls out of his eggplant patch. "Dang blast it Kinny, tell you whut man, them dang ole squirrels is bad enough but them dang ole miniature trolls wit' them small hands and dexterity make a mess o' my eggplant patch. Get all up in them eggplants and start hollowin' 'em out and then sprucing 'em up to live in, but then they don't live in 'em, just rent 'em out to other miniature trolls and I don't get no cut of the rent! That's all ole Davey wants, his rightful share!!! HIS RIGHTFUL SHARE OF THE SWEET MINIATURE TROLL EGGPLANT APARTMENT RENT PIE!!!" So in a fit of murderous rage at imaginary creatures that Dave has invented in his mind, Sushi was procured as Dave's personal garden pest reaper. Don't fear the reaper. Don't fear the Sushi. By the way, Mark Cavendish is a super freak.

FOURTH OF JULY!!!!!!!!

Well I'm glad everyone made it back safe from South Carolina's official "blow off your three middle fingers day". I know I was playing it safe.

A couple of gallons of diesel fuel and an 8 foot high pile of drift wood always makes for a good time.

But the real fun began at sunset. Dont ask me where I got this monster. It's even more outlawed than the t-shirt.

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. Dagobah never had it so good.

In Memoriam: John Bryan

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