I’m just kidding. It’s super easy and I actually don’t know why everyone doesn’t do it.
Besides not having a 401k, cost of living raises, a guaranteed pay check, or really any form of job security whatsoever, there are at least as many perks. For example, I’ve not worn pants to work for seven and a half years, and secondly, you can pull up stakes and get out of dodge nearly any time you like.
And this is exactly what I’m going to be doing for the rest of the week, so forgive the absence of a post on Friday, but we’ll be back in one another’s loving embrace again come Monday probably, and whatever momentum we have, we’ll maintain again then.
Now that I’ve addressed that, let’s get down to bee’s wax.
First up, we have a correspondence from Cranpa of the FBM Bikecycle Company that goes a little something like this;
Get me a glazed donut and a bottle of any thing, TO GO!
Kids riding kid’s bikes, better than grown-ups ride kid’s bikes…
I replied to his email, at which point I realized that it might as well be in the context of this post so here goes-
“Good thing those youngsters are wearing their helmets, lest they end up like this guy“;
I can only imagine that his suburban neighbors are super confused.
Sorry about that.
Now, as I mentioned Monday, rumor had it that the SSCXWC was going to be making its triumphant return to Portland in 2016, and I’ll be damned if the grapevine didn’t fail me;
Get your laps ready to be danced upon, and your stomach ready for delicious food, because I suspect Portland is gonna make their final year of hosting count.
And though I wasn’t in attendance this year, thankfully the beautiful butterfly, and man about town known as Dylan VanWeelden was, and he not only took some shots, but offered me some words on the matter as well;
Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships was designed to melt minds and break the hearts of anyone that took cyclocross racing too seriously. In the 9th time since it’s immaculate conception it took foothold in quaint little town of Victoria BC.
The drunken daubetchery started with racers fighting to qualify with many “Feats of Strength”, including pump track races, stone climbs, lemond starts and many liquor store stops. On race day the inebriation started instantly and provided racers and spectators with a boat jump, lemon drop short cut, and some huge tire and snow barrier sections;
The Portland Single Speed Collective apparently brought across a dowry of joints with the intention to bring the event back to Portland for the ten year anniversary. J’s were passed out to racers at the finish line and the pits turned into a plume of smoke. The contact high made everyone forget why they were even there in the first place.
I do thank Dylan for his time and effort in reportage. It seemed like a pretty damned fun weekend, right down to Adam’s tattoo getting screwed up, though personally, I think he knew exactly what he was doing;
Photograph by Chris David.
Anyway, as I was reflecting on my absence, the event’s varying history, and all components in between, I focused in on the fact that the one speed Worlds races had turned into big dumb costume parties. I then dipped into the archives and found this image from the 1999 mountain bike version;
Notice the almost total absence of rainbow wigs and thongs.
Granted, a sleeveless jersey and arm warmers is suspect at best, but sometimes you just don’t want to commit, and the crop top in the second row? That’s Travis Brown, so maybe he’s to blame for all of this after all.
These indeed were the salad days, and I realize this might seem to be a skewed perspective coming from an individual who spent an overwhelming majority of his race career sealed within the confines of a sorely under-washed orange jumpsuit, but as I’ve said before, and will most likely say again, those aren’t costumes. They are competition-use only speed suits, the right to wear them being hard earned. Secondly, we wouldn’t just wear them to be wacky, one or two days a year. They were and continue to be worn year round, rain or shine, in cyclocross, or mountain bike races, and in events ranging from regional to National levels.
Call me Captain Buzzkill if you wish, but I can’t help but wonder exactly when the flood gates of all this costume nonsensery were opened.
Sometime after it left American shores I guess, because I didn’t see it with my own two eyeball balls until 2008, and I never made it to any of the international events purely due to financial destitution, and a fair pinch of apathy.
Alas, people will do what people will do, and if donning a wrestling mask and lime green Borat one piece is what gets your rocks off, then who am I to cast aspersions?
Except for when I do, in which case I’m the guy who does.
Kinda like the other day when I came across the following image that Max had posted;
Being the ever helpful sort that I am, I forwarded him an easy to read and itemized graphic detailing what (from my perspective) would be his best course of action;
Infographic courtesy of Dicky.
Though in this rare instance the pedal clearly hasn’t failed, yet the directive should most likely remain just the same.
And for other folks who’ve found themselves in Max’s predicament, you’re welcome.