WE'RE MOVING!!!

We've outgrown this shanty called Blogger and are moving to a spacious new tenement in East Mogadishu: http://www.hawleycompany.net/blog/ Update your bookmarks accordingly. That address is, once again... http://www.hawleycompany.net/blog/

K-Edge Chain Catchers ETA: 'Bout a week

To quote our Georgia outside sales rep, Morgan Fluhrer: Campagnolo = Stage Win... SRAM Red = Dropped Chain. Oof, you gotta feel for poor Andy Schleck. What a time for a mechanical which in turn forced him to risk life and limb on a somewhat precarious descent as he made a futile attempt to catch the Contador group. Perhaps if he had invested in the K-Edge chain catcher, he would still be in yellow, instead of the white "Best-est young Webelo riders" jersey, seething with rage like a young Annakin Skywaker right before he massacred all those Tusken Raiders after his mother died. Ugh, Tusken Raiders. Why does everything in life come back to them, but I digress. Now poor, emaciated, brotherless Andy Schleck will be forced to attack on Thursday's stage since his time trialing prowess isn't as good as Contador's. What does this mean? Well, judging by his previous mechanical history, catastrophic stem and handlebar failure on the first descent followed by some sort of chain and seatstay disintegration on the Col Du Tormalet, capped off by a drunken, nude Tusken Raider dance party in the Saxo Bank bus. They always nude-boogie-dance in single file, to hide their numbers. K-Edge purchaser Patrick's fruit bat ears have perked up at the mention of nude Tusken Raider dance parties, so as diversion, here are some of the chain keepers that shall be here in the warehouse next week.

And, the single ring cyclocross version....These come in Braze on and clamp flavors for both road and cyclocross options. Works with Sram, Shimano and Campagnolo. CHAN8402, CHAN8452 and CHAN8456 for those of you following along in your online catlog. Super-Fresh! These are machined and anodized in Idaho which is weird because nothing good has ever come out of Idaho, except Built To Spill, and they haven't put out a decent record since their split EP with Caustic Resin over a decade ago! Huzzah!

Asheville, Land of Many Subarus

If The Blog ever opens a used camping gear-outfitting store, it shall be called REI 51 and it shall outfit even the scraggliest of trustifarians and it shall be good and plentiful and the people shall cling to it like so many AT stickers on a Subaru and the drum circle shall rejoice. All seriousness aside, it was good to visit Asheville and see the sights and see former Hawley folk, one an indentured servant to a cycling industry vendor and one a former servant now plying her trade in the pedagogical realm. Some of the sights "seen" included a quick spin on Kitsuma and Star Gap as inclement weather rolling in truncated any further audacious riding plans. That's what you get for leaving the house at 11:30 instead of 7:30. Anyhoo, Kitsuma seemed to be in worse shape than last September but perhaps it was merely a figment of the imagination. Nay, the trail has eroded considerably in certain sections and has seen a tree or two down. However, it was still very enjoyable until I forgot the log ramp I approached was actually a mini-launch which I wasn't leaning back enough on and did a graceful endo into some assorted shrubbery. Heavens to murgatroid. That log should be quite the spectacle with 400 people rolling upon it at this Sunday's ORAMM. Speaking of which, The Blog passed several riders during Saturday's foray. One would assume these folk were scouting the route, gaining invaluable knowledge of assorted climbs and local customs. The Blog decided to skip Curtis Creek because it is a most unpleasant climb and sometimes the most unpleasant climbs are best left un-reconnoitered until one is actually at its base staring up into its cloudy extremes like so many Mickey Mouses and beanstalks. If the weather stays hot, it could resemble an Antietam battlefield.... ON JUPITER!


On an interesting side-note, motoring up the scenic Old Highway 70, a woman was passed in a floral print dress in a somewhat old fashioned cut and running sneakers. I assumed she was out for a walk. As I rolled up to her, dinging my bell and waving, I could've sworn this woman was actually a man. Isn't that a mustache and beard or maybe it was the light? Has to be the light, right? In hindsight, the calves seemed a bit, well, largish and muscular for a woman? This shouldn't matter as everybody is free to wear whatever they want, but the incongruity of outfit and physique coupled with the aviator sunglasses creeped me out a bit. If the couple on big hit bikes riding with their dog also noticed the mystery walker and also read this blog, please leave your "take" on this in the comments section. Thanks.
By the way, just noticed REI sponsors ORAMM. If Todd Branham is reading this, I'll give you first dibs at becoming a majority shareholder in REI 51. Skype me. Let's talk. This thing could be HUGE!!! Enron Huge!

Just In Case You Forgot

This lovely Soma Mixte, fully built, used in our Urban(e) catalog for 2010 is still up for sale. It goes by the name of DEMOBIKE112 for those of you following along in your online catalog. Loads of nice stuff like, uh, brakes, tires, bolts, imaginations, etc. Actually, it has a lovely Soma rack, Cardiff grips and Campy Super Record 11. If you're a dealer call in. If you're a "civilian", call your dealer and get in on this deal. If you're Darrell Laughlin, quit blocking my driveway with your repugnant Chevy Cavalier. It's gettin' towed dude, and then what'll you make your Wing Zone deliveries in? I know, A SOMA MIXTE!!!! Full circle people, full circle. Ugh, I have regressive humidity syndrome an it's only getting worse. Have a frank and productive weekend.

Two For Flinching

This morning's ride into work hurt all over for some reason. Good lord, it was slow going, hence the "Slow Bicycle Race" board game above. I need to find that game and play it. Some sort of hyper-reality thing, like "I'm IN the GAME", but the game is the same thing every morning and is starting to get kinda boring but mildly life-threatening. Like if William Gibson wrote scripts for Double Dare? If William Gibson replaced Mark Summer and HOSTED Double Dare? But to continue on this commuting rant, I'm so tired of humidity. Is it this bad everywhere else? When commuters at other distributors like Q or BTI or SBS ride in, are they covered in water 7 minutes into their ride? Pretty sure I've developed some sort of bib-related jungle disease. If we open a distribution center in Arizona, please powers-that-be, let me run that mutha! In other important news, Former Vanderkitten Liz Hatch protects her melon (singular):

Current Vanderkitten Jen X races her bicycle and snags a second! Huzzah Jen!
Current Hawley headset vendor and industry innovator Cane Creek sends their love via a headset compatibility tool. It's called the Gary gauge and we hope it's named after their customer service goon Gary. Gary is a pleasant fellow who lives, like a service droid, to serve you, the customer. Feel free to call Cane Creek and spout off all your headset related questions and remarks to the most patient listener this side of Dr. Jonathan Katz. This thing measures nugacity like nobody's business!

Former Hawley roughneck Marcie H. sends her regards via this sickeningly awesome display of American culinary hyperbole. The Double Down has entered its larval stage, ensconced itself within a cholesterol chrysalis and emerged as a brilliantly colored imago of gastro-genocide. Yes, this, this feels... right. To quote the Notorious BIG, a thousand grams uncut, to tha gut!

Menchov Demands Sacrifice!

Thomas Voeckler Colnago C59 resplendent in the French colors...
Happy Bastille Day gentle reader. In 1789, a bunch of plucky demonstrators brought "tha ruckus" (to borrow a period colloquialism) to a prison containing 7 prisoners, none of them the Marquis De Sade, and sent a portentous message to the French royalty. Fast forward thousands of years later to today's Tour De France! A Portuguese rider (Sergio Paulinho) wins the stage and a rubber legged Frenchman (Maxime Bouet) gets dropped from the escape group. Many a Jacobite are turning over in their graves (but not Robespierre as he despised sporting activities that didn't involve "terror" and "reigns") right about now. Nevertheless, the French have ridden a solid Tour and should be happy that their successes have obfuscated the failure of the French at this year's World Cup for at least a few more weeks. By the way, hopeless purchasing hack Patrick noticed Velonews might be jumping on the Menchov train. Silent threat indeed!

Speaking of lurking, Hawley alumni and bon vivant Brandon Caskey directed Ole Bloggy to a bunch of pics of his beyond-ridiculous ascension of the Half Dome Regular Northwest Face in Yosemite. Huzzah and much respect to a man who still owes The Blog $12.57. We're not a climbing company but we occasionally deal with climb-servicing dealers and vendors and would like everybody to know that we have much admiration for the scaling of rock edifices and those who participate in these endeavors. That is all.

Menchov in 4th!

His "lurk factor" is at 7... and rising. Biding his time, and then, like the deadly sandworm, bursting forth in a cataclysm of spice hungry obliteration to win a deserved third place. In other news, Teenwolf has given up on life in general and decided to outfit his retro Orbea with corresponding retro components. After 278 dollars on Ebay, he is now the proud owner of this crime against humanity...(late edit: Michael Bronson also gave it a thumbs up. What's wrong with these people?)
Also, our local news outlet runs a helpful story to remind us that cyclists need to follow the rules of the road...
http://www.wistv.com/Global/story.asp?S=12798159

Gettin' Crazy With The Cheez Whiz: Mench Off!

(Nicholas Roche, non-replicant version)
Watching the Tour Sunday, I couldn't help notice Nicholas Roche's pain face up the final climb of the day. After a cursory search there was nary a photo to be found, but it was pretty crazy looking. His mouth was stuck in this frozen "Oh" shape, like he was trapped in a state of perpetual terror all the way up the climb, however his eyes looked like they were half shut, as if he was falling asleep. His head was bobbing up and down but also had this funky side to side motion. His knees appeared to be knocking on the top tube, beating a rhthymic overture to his impending funeral dirge. It was pretty awesome. He was shattered. It made me feel good as I sat on the couch eating a bowl of Reece's Pieces ice cream at 10:50 AM. Couldn't find a good pic of his pain face, but the one above shows him earlier in the climb on the verge of super-barfing over his handlebars. Anybody got any Roche clips they'd be willing to share? I thought homeboy was transforming into more of a sprinter, not a climber? Anyway, chapeau! In addition to this non-climber, I noticed some bona fide climbers suffering a bit more than you would expect. Bradley Wiggins got dropped like a sack of doorknobs. I shall miss his tall socks. It was hot and the pace Astana set at the start seemed high, but perhaps with all the doping "heat" on Armstrong, the GC riders are laying off "the good stuff" to be on the safe side? There's no telling but here is a fascinating article in the NY Times about climbing times and power output being a tell-tale sign of doping. BOOYAH!

(Bradley Wiggins riding the Tour equivalent of appropriately tall socks on his way to a lackluster finish)
In other news, The Blog's incomprehensible pick of Denis Menchov for the Tour overall is still hanging by a thread. A very tenuous, Damocles-ian thread, but a thread all the same. "Ole Hungry Boy Slim" (not his nickname, but one he should have and therefore, will now be given) finished ten seconds behind in the Contador-Evans-Leipheimer-Basso group. As he tackled the final climb, Eurosport's David Harmon used the word "lurking" to describe Menchov's position. I thought it was appropriately menacing and underscored Menchov's overall creepiness factor in addition to his ride for the day. Was he riding up a mountain or was he living within the crawlspace of an orphanage scaring children? The guy has a permanent thousand yard stare. I'll stick with Menchov until the bitter end as the Armstrong rats jump ship and swim over to whoever looks like a winner at the moment. Schleckstrong? If Denis wins the overall, here is the chest tattoo that I shall get minutes after the podium ceremony:Apparently, cyclists seem to attract "The Crazy" more than other demographs. Here are two salient and somewhat provocative articles...
Bicycle "Rashomon"
Ban, Baby Ban
And just in case you missed it or were lying dormant in your muscle re-generating synthochamber as millions of nano-robots rebuilt your innards like so many replicants, here's a chance to win free spot at Leadville 100. A brief moment of your time could earn you a painful day in the saddle and a caffeinated beverage with Dave Weins...
http://www.trails2000.org/

(Late edit, thanks Paolo: Wiggins finished 1:45 behind, Roche was at 2:18)

Barredo Vs. Costa

Tour de France slap fight, to the exxxxxxxtreme

Turn Tricks, Not Tricks

Flatlanders are a strange if not somewhat misunderstood bunch but don't let that stop you from watching their "crazy antics". Here's a short bit of Richard Aguayo messing around, taking a load off so to speak. Nothin' fancy, just some flatlanding to wind down the day...


Fixed freestyle isn't really my cup of tea either, but those crazy kids with their rock and roll records and their long hair (I said trim those sideburns Mattingly!) and their acid washed jeans and their British Knights and their plucky resolve have definitely taken their riding to strange, new, dizzying heights. Taylor's "swingset to saddle" remount is pretty epic and sets the tone for the gnarfest to follow. Have a frank and productive weekend. Please riding your bicycles for much of the pleasure. Thankings.

Old Flip Cam Scraps from Taylor Dwight on Vimeo.

Hydraulicaholicism

With the advent of the cellular telephone, I'm sure there were some rotary dial, land line loving holdouts, but as with all people suspicious of technology, they are usually dealt with in a swift and brutal fashion. Contemporize maaaaan. Quit livin' in the past! So after deciding to hop in a time machine and go back a handful of years ago in my mountain biking life, the trigger was finally pulled on a set of Avid Elixir R hydraulic brakes (BKST20852 & 20853) to replace the current setup of Avid BB7s. From what I'd read and seen in print these seemed like the most bang for the tiny amount of buck (think wallet opening and a cartoonish moth fluttering out). Piston size is halfway between a Juicy and a Code. Integrated reservoir. Less initial power and deep stroke modulation. Tool free reach adjust. Adjustable banjo. What do these things mean? Are they important? Sounds like gibberish fed through an electrified nonsense machine. We'll find out this weekend as the hot weather means fast and somewhat freaky, hot trail action. These come in a 185 and 203mm rotor, but for the sake of congruity, 160mm went on both front and rear. These are pre-bled and relatively hassle free. This means catastrophic brake failure is imminent. Just has to be.

Pre-bled goodness!
Post-bled goodness!


In drunken Australian vendor news, we're bringing in a whole mess of Knog locks for later in the year. They come in all sorts of weird colors and shapes but the names are fairly straightforward: Ringmaster, Fisticuff, Kabana, Party Frank and Kranksy. This is merely subterfuge to show you some clever bit of marketing from Canada that doesn't mock our health care system, for once.

Midweek Yawwwwny

Frank Schleck, and what's left of his collarbone. Crucial!Yesterday's ride into work and subsequent ride home featured not one, not two, but three trains! The last train was on the cusp of the USC campus. I tried to get closer to the car in front of me but fear, fear of the unknown made me keep my distance. The stereo was blasting a Jodeci-styled R & B through treble-phonic speakers as the driver bounced up and down wildly, eating what appeared to be some sort of mega gyro or a small baby wrapped in swaddling pita.

I could smell it from 30 yards away. Anyhoo, while this sociopath relished his dinner and dancing, I began scouting alternate routes around the train. A quick jaunt through the Vista and I was on my way home, as the train, like all trains rumbling through Columbia, slowly ground to a halt. Since school is out, I've been trying to ride in to work more often, but because of lack of fitness or lack of Jodeci, or a combination of both, I have found my legs to be sore and somewhat tender, like lamb meat steaming inside a gyro. To alleviate this succulent pain, a pair of Craft compression socks (CLTH701633) were acquired with due expediency and subsequently adorned.

When combined with my compression Yanni, they increase circulation by 30 percent and "savage beatings" by a whopping 9000 percent. I look forward to premiering this outfit at Bobby's Open, a delightful "motorcycle enthusiast" (Leather Daddy) watering hole in the heart of Springdale, where sartorial panache is eagerly awarded by the most concupiscent patrons! Huzzah!

By the way, a few tidbits of cycling ephemera to shepherd you to the rightside of the weekly calendar:
Molly Cameron gives his two cents about disc brakes being allowed on cross bikes...

And FMK's insightful review of Bill Strickland's sycophantic love letter to Lance Armstrong...