Today my head is in the clouds and my feet are floating along just above the ground for the simple reason that as you read this, I’ve just been dispatched to a media junket at Specialized Bicycles’ World Headquarters, where I will be meeting, greeting and riding with the world renowned HTC-Columbia bicycle related athletic pursuitists team, most notably Mark ‘The Missile’ Cavendish;
Now I’ll let that soak in for a minute.
“Why on God’s green earth would anyone think to send him?” you might be asking yourself, which from my perspective is a very good query indeed. In an attempt to solve the riddle I took the opportunity to list all of my attributes which might have factored into making this occur.
Was it that I can go toe to toe with Cavendish in a drinking contest? Could it be that I have more hours logged on a road bike (which mysteriously has contributed to a marked decline in my overall fitness) than nearly anyone on the planet? Have I fooled someone into thinking that I actually care?
After hours of creating spread sheets, pie charts, and various graphs, the conclusion I finally arrived at was this;
At any rate, eventually a full blown (Sylvester Stallone) report will be available either here, Paved, the garbage, or possibly all three.
I can’t hardly broach the subject of train wrecks and not make mention that I recently made my way to the Big City to meet up with the estimable Raleigh Sally, as well as a small smattering of other friends. Sally was in town for work related purposes (if one could count hitting every coffee shop and bar in the city limits ‘work’) and while he was available, we took the bicycles and used them for transportation purposes;
This smattering of friends engage in a regularly occurring ‘Tuesday Booze Cruise’, though on the night in question, we simply met up and rolled lazily to one bar where we unleashed a blitzkrieg of technical documentation;
I don’t know what was happening just then, but by the looks of things, it was pretty damn interesting.
Though I can say with certainty that what Sally was shooting here was most definitely not;
For good measure, I will include this photo which appropriately illustrates the transition of the mood over the course of the evening. Content, to happy, to super happy;
But with every rise, there is the inevitable crash, and after putting a hurt on the city’s supply of libations and food stuffs, we both fell headlong back into his hotel where we proceeded to sleep it off. Waking up on Wednesday morning resulted in a walk of shame like none I’ve ever known.
Luckily, upon my return home I was pleasantly surprised to find a couple of timely emails, the first being from Max looking dashing in black and blue;
“Felt the power of the kit this past weekend at Turkey Trot (in Glendale). Broke my right shiter pre-riding the course, and running a 1×10 setup I had to ss it in the C4 race against a bunch of fast (shifting) mofos. Pulled off a 14th spot somehow.
Photo courtesy of Pat Benson.
Ain’t no podium for us dirtbags, but we look better.
Not only did I hear about Max’s fourteenth place win, but was also reminded about the very upcoming Super Market Sweep Alley Cat Extravaganza occurring this weekend;
There’s a lot of fine print there, so for the optically challenged, here you go.
Ride bikes, collect food, go home happy. It sounds like a good way to spend a day to me.
Then finally, at my door I found an assortment of goodies that were sent to me from a couple of concerned and caring individuals. Kurt very graciously swapped me some new Interwolfs for a selection of Black Market goods and Terry from Cateye did me a super solid and set me up with a present of a computer, cloth tape and my favorite bar plugs;
Though a train wreck by any other name might still be just that, and no amount of hot water can rid me of my existing/impending general state of self loathing, an occasional care package certainly helps to make the clean up a little bit easier.