To BMC, Or Not to BMC? That is the question!

Well, that was the question for young master Troy. After a surprisingly short amount of deliberation (which is a post in itself as Troy's indecision is legendary), Troy shrugged his shoulders, opened his wallet and is now stuck with a full suspension BMC frame until the cold touch of death whisks him away to the netherworld. And how shall that come to pass? Perhaps descending Farlow Gap with too liberal an amount of unfounded confidence on his new ride? P'shaw gentle reader! Troy's BMC, who he has christened "Captain Pancake Jumping Jack Roosevelt" is immortal and when astride it, Troy shall be immortal. Then we all get our heads chopped off like those dudes in "The Highlander".

LOOK AT THAT FREAKIN' HEADTUBE!
Troy gives us a pose! Good effort Pastor! Notice Josh in the background, Mister "I could care less about this frame. OK, maybe just a peek. Tarnation, that's a beaut of frame! I shall inquire at my local framekeep in the village! OK, now back to reading Gizmodo"
Britney shows Troy how it's done. That's quite a jaunty scarf! What a little ragamuffin! Meanwhile, Kyle relives a most unpleasant Christmas memory...

Colin Receives His Comeuppance: THE RECKONING

Although the Hawley company is all about the love, emanating the warm fuzziness of a hippy commune gone horribly awry, every now and then factions will sprout up from the loamy fields of the warehouse and sales office, blossoming into rivalry, then taunts, then more taunts and then confrontation. Entering from stage right, Colin, the Southern Dandy, the pride of Inside Sales,. Entering from stage left, Chris, the Boston Bulldog, the pride of Receiving, collector of Schwinns. Enter from the third moon of Saturn, Andy (Storck) as promoter and provocateur. With the players assembled, our tableau commences: One Arm Wrestling match to decide the fate of each representative's tribe. To the victor, life. To the loser, death. Within 30 seconds, the mortal battle was settled as Chris grunted and frowned his way to a deserved victory over an inexplicably confident Colin. As these words are written, inside sales is being blind-folded and given last requests. We shall miss them. Especially Michael who was only here for a few days and will be shot with the others, no exceptions. Our condolences to his wife and six children.

"Andy "Mouth of the South" Hale shows off his promoter skills. Nice sunglasses"
"OK boys, lock up. May the best man win! Hold on, I gotta run to the bathroom first"
"For the first 5 seconds, Colin toys with Chris, giving him the old fish arm. Chris exerts at 100 percent. There shall be no rope a dope today"
"At 10 seconds, Colin decides to put Chris out of his misery. Chris counteracts with 135 percent exertion. He's redlining"
"The tables turn at 20 seconds. Colin feels his o-ring clench as Chris ramps up to 200 percent exertion. Colin's needless showboating has gotten him into a pinch."
"30 seconds in, Colin can hold out no longer! Chris jumps up to 300 percent exertion and in doing so, etches his name in the annals of arm wrestling history. Colin has etched himself in anal history. Wait, that was a misprint"
"Colin screams WHY ME???? THE NECROMANCER FORETOLD GREATNESS!!! as Chris savors his victory, in a most unsavory manner, as befits a descendant of New England whalers and beard trimmers. Ahoy hoy indeed!"
(commentary dictated to a Sony analog HG-2 voice recorder)

In mountain biking-related news, swing over to Harlan Price's website for info on a gnar-tastic stage race taking place in India! Finally, a chance for authentic Indian cuisine, and authentic diarrhea!

Surly, You Can't Be Serious

The office has been jam-packed with Surlys as of late. Jose and Michael brought their respective machines in for a Surly-Off! Brows were furrowed, things were muttered about the other's mother, audible sighs of discontent were exhaled and pens were slammed on desks. In the end, Kyle bested both men and machines as he truly is, the king of the Surlys!!! My alcoholic uncle Bernard was King of the Slurries, but that's for the Blog and its therapist to discuss...

Jose's Karate Monkey. Jose forgot he had this bike in his stable of rides. Silly Jose!
Look at that old school Spot hub! It's jam-packed with bearing goodness!
Newbie Michael's Pugsley intimidates an anorexic Storck. "To inflate tire, stuff with cotton"
Burp!

That's Saw Folks!

Slim pickin's tonight as the Blog is wrestling with some serious emotions. Tender, serious emotions. Emotions that can shake a Blog to its very core! To compensate for this Lifetime Channel moment, we present a future member to the Hawley Tool Team: The Bahco 12" Hacksaw! This puppy has a tungsten carbide blade made for cutting precious carbon fiber! Don't trust your valuable seatposts and handlebars to just any hacksaw! Make sure it's a BAHCO!!!

Shine on you crazy diamond!!!

Maximum Shreditude!

Today's installment of "Maximum Shreditude!" comes to us from Eric and Kelly's Bent Creek shred fest. Totally awesome! Radical to the extremities of radicalness! Eric (Cane Creek sad sack) sent these pics with a brief note attached: "Yo sucka! Check out these extreme shots of me and my old lady seriously shreddin' Bent Creek. Kelly shredded the shred out of a log ride as I got my shred on, basically shredding this dope little piece of shred shred shred, shred? Shred! By the way, could you turn these four pictures into a shreddin' movie with Prodigy playing in the background? Thanks bro! I owe you an organic lunch at an overpriced Asheville restaurant!
Shreddingly Awesome,
Eric and Kel-shred"

Kelly starts her assault on a Bent Creek log. Notice how she gets that front wheel up!
Halfway there Kel, don't give up now!
Well, only a couple more feet, but I guess we'll never know if you made it. The office is 50/50. Sorry, that's life... when you're freakin' shreddin!!!
Eric catches mad air... or is it photoshop magic? Take two shreddin's and see me in the mornin'!!!!

"No Jacket Required"...

Is an infinitely mind-expanding rocker of an album that rips your soul from your worthless body, pounds it flat with a rusty sledge hammer, scrapbooks it with buttons, glue, pipe cleaners and glitter and then mails it to your senile old grandmother with a note attached to it saying "Get Real, Granny! You can't hang with Phil Collins!!!" The bicycle equivalent of one of the greatest artistic triumphs ever, Will G's new/old cross bike, courtesy of the new "full-custom service" garage here at the Hawley Company won't stop rocking you, no matter how much you plead for mercy, like a soft, willowy Andy Hale...

"Take me home..."

"Sussudio!!!"

"His effortless graft of bright white-R&B bounce to quirky, unexpected melodies is instinctively commercial but never feels overly contrived."
—–David Fricke, Rolling Stone review, 9 May 1985

The said could be said about Will G....

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Ritual hazing. It's a practice as old as time itself. And as practices go, it's as transmutable as water, adapting, adjusting, forming itself to any environment... work environment. Unfortunately for Colin, the idea of hazing is not lost on Andy. The task was simple: force Colin to do something horrible, like eat way too much of a certain candy then add a certain candy spray to the mix under the guise of "a fun, silly dare". Dear God, the horror of it all. Poor Colin, he claimed his tongue burned throughout the night, muting all taste, culinary and otherwise. Luckily, this demonstration was not lost on new hire Michael as he arrived at work 15 minutes early today, offering to polish Andy's scepter and fetching hot water for his daily Earl Gray tea. No need to fret Michael, your trial by ordeal doesn't start until we can re-stock the eel tank. Have a great weekend!

Let This Distract You!

While perusing Copenhagen Cycle Chic, I came across this bike. The blog's sister reads this nonsense so Fay if you're reading, THIS is how you commute to work!!! Feelin' lazy today so the nonsense from this morning will have to wait until tomorrow's post. Sorry

Souperbad!

Jose (sales conquistador/devoted lover and family man) made the Blog soup today. It had potatoes, beans, ham and some other stuff (like beans). Add one part microwave and one part spoon and you've got a succulent lunchtime repast! So the question is, was this soup or was it stew? Debate amongst yourselves. In other less important news, we got in boxes and boxes of pink Sram hoods and handlebar tape. The blog ran black hoods with pink tape for several months. On every ride, the blog never felt "quite right", "not so fresh". Perhaps it was the hoods? They was up to no goods! I write like I speak! By the way, Jose's soup isn't for sale. However, you would think it is after hearing about it from him for 3 days straight. "Soup this", "Soup that!". Nobody likes hubris Jose, nobody.

Guitar Hero on a Bicycle, Surprise Phone Test: The Unflappable Pastor Troy, New Eleven 81 Water Bottle Cage Bolts in Tha HIZZY!

In the spirit of video gaming and its undeniable link to the cycling world, the blog humbly presents this moving picture for your perusal. Please direct all complaints to the Hawley company's assistant customer service representative:



(too good to be true? PERHAPS! )

Now that you've whetted your blog-e-tite with that tasty viral morsel, please peruse this transcript of a conversation between inside sales savant Pastor Troy and a fictional shop owner. The Hawley Company's motto is "Trust No One!" and we are never scared to put it to the test! Periodically, inside sales is given dummy callers (former CIA interrogators) to test their quick thinking and abiliiy to adapt to high pressure situations.

Troy: Hawley Company, this is Troy!

Cpt. Bijou Hamhock: Yeah hey, this is Captain Bijou Hamhock . I was calling about gettin' my boy enrolled in swimmin' lessons.

T: OK, what sort of stroke is he looking to learn?

CBH: I was thinkin' back stroke would be good for 'im. You can swim but you can also see what's behind you. You see what I'm sayin?

T: Yes, the backstroke is our best defensive stroke for 2008. Can I interest you in an offensive stroke like the eye jab stroke or perhaps some swimming caps? We have a price break if you order nine hundred irregularly sized swimming caps before 4 PM.

CBH :No thank you, we make our own caps.

T: All right then, I'll go ahead and get that order of swimming lessons mailed out. Can I do anything else for you?

CBH: My boy, Michael Jordan, is allergic to chlorine. Ya'll got any other options?

T: Well, we do have a creek water program. Basically, it entails us taking your son to the creek and throwing him in. It costs the same but doesn't include the complimentary hand towel. Also, the creek is only visible to warlocks so that means we hire a warlock to guide us to the creek and then we usually have to feed the warlock and entertain him so he doesn't turn us into a tree or something. Kind of a hassle if you get my drift!

CBH: My grand daddy was half warlock! You have offended me so I will bid you good day!

T: Thanks for calling!

And last but certainly not least in this triple play post, we finally got in the Eleven 81 water bottle cage bolts! OK, pick yourself up off the floor, put on some pants, wipe the banana cream pie off your face, pick up a phone, call your dealer, then call your local bike shop and order these before they're alllllll gone!

That's All, HOAX! Yours Truly, Dave Whackker

Well, less hoax, than prank, but it makes for a better rhyme (stank? skank? blood bank? fish tank?). Anyhoo, taking advantage of Teenwolf's notoriously short temper, the Blog and a few higher-ups gave the green light on a bit of lighthearted fun. First, you create a potential bike shop owner. Then you create a fake bike shop in Boston. Then you create a fake email. The you email Teenwolf and question his professionalism while making fun of his "Daily Special" write-ups. Then you sit back and watch Teenwolf rant to us while keeping his cool, gently assuaging the belligerent nutcase who has a bone to pick. Then you mail a letter from Boston to put the cherry on top of the prank Sundae. Good times. Teenwolf is a good sport and allowed the blog to take him to lunch where we dined on five dollar footlongs and buried the metaphorical hatchet. Teenwolf's wedding is in 7 months, plenty of time to plan for some more hijinks. Android bride anybody???

Holy Sweet Potato Pie

HAPPY TURKEY DAY!

Buy These Gloves Or Sandy Will Destroy Me

Sandy commutes into work last Thursday...
Seriously, all kidding aside, Sandy has a temper like a drunk, Egyptian pharaoh. Prone to unreasonable demands and the occasional sarcophagus crammed with gold statues and mummified vendors, she rages against the Blog on an hourly basis, hurling insults at me like a hobo hurls baked bean tins at an open fire while on an ether binge. The Blog has taken to wearing turtlenecks around the office to hide the bruises from Sandy's daily throttling, its neck sore from the Homer Simpson-esque abuse as Sandy demands I fetch her a de-caf frappacino and the lastest issue of Conde Nast. How will the Blog's suffering be alleviated? Noose? Carbon monoxide party in my garage? No, sadly, the only way out is for these TSG gloves to leave our warehouse post-haste!!! End my suffering.

"Et Tu, Jose?": Things to Do in Columbia When You're Chloroformed

At the risk of sounding bitter, as soon as Jose opened up his box of brand new American Classic 29er wheels, we became enemies. The man who claimed to be my friend, my amigo, my Spanish obscenity tutor, stabbed the Blog in the back as he was first to score the mad-fresh AC's. Crimony! That means the blog either gets the inferior (in color only) white pair or waits to build up some funky fresh wheels with some Cane Creek rims and Industry Nine (new vendor for us in 2009) hubs. Nevertheless, as soon as I remove the scimitar Jose thrust between my fourth and fifth vertebrae, I shall have my revenge. Oh yes, there wheel be blood. But not blood, just gloating and childish behavior. To be honest, Jose was quite demur, barely showing a smile as he unwrapped his new babies. According to a few witnesses, he did let out an exuberant yelp after the crowds cleared but that's to be expected from a man known for having the discretion of an 18th century courtesan. In conclusion, after I figure out where to buy chloroform, I expect we won't be seeing Jose or his wheels for a wheel long time. By the way Dave, can I borrow your van this weekend? Just send me a text... and ix-nay on the idnapping-kay! (Wink)

COMMUTER BIKE OF THE WEEK...

Belongs to Brittany (quality control)! Technically, this bike was driven in but it shall be used for commuting in the near future. Andy insisted on switching out the headset. Ugh, the guy tries the Blog's patience...