For those of you who are beginning your Friday wondering what sort of fuel fills my tank, (and no, that’s not a metaphor concerning my sexual preference) please allow me to announce from up high that New England Super Natural is the best cereal on the face of the planet;
I just paid fifteen dollars for a five pound bag.
It’s so good I’d pay twice that for half as much.
Now on to other matters.. I may have mentioned that on Tuesday, famed mountain bike photographer Forrest Arakaw, his assistant Marshall and I went out on a date to shoot photos for an upcoming featurette in Bike Magazine.
(Remember Bike? That’s the freeride magazine that used to have random stories on topics like the Messenger Worlds, the misconception of overseas bike production, would regularly expound on the importance sharing the trails with other users and once featured Big Dave on the cover dressed like a pimp.) Anyhoo, as we were leaving our meeting spot, Forrest said “throw your bike in the back of the truck.”
I eyed the two glistening full suspension bikes, their sheer power barely being contained by the tie downs, and I responded “You’re driving there? (The spot we’re shooting) is like two miles from here.”
“Yeah, but weve got all this photo equipment…” Alright, I could give them that. We’re gonna be riding for hours and they both are going to have backpacks full of strobes, lenses and tripods, but still, I couldn’t justify the mechanized transport for such a short distance, so atop a cross bike, off I rode to the meeting spot..
The shoot couldn’t have gone better, and we got alot of photos that make me look like a far better cyclist than I am, but then while rounding a carved out corner later in the day, my prototype fork gave up the ghost and sent me crashing to the ground with such force, both Forrest and Marshall, standing ten feet away from me in either direction, said they felt the impact up through the bottom of their feet.
Until the mag decides which images they’d like to use, I have no visual proof, but suffice it to say, it looked a little something like this;
And I ended up getting a ride out of there in the truck after all…
Despite all of this, I at least still have the use of my index fingers, so with that being said, let us get back to the mail bag.
As I described in Tweets and other social media channels earlier in the week, I recently got the following email from an unnamed individual who in turn got it from another individual, who also will remain unnamed;
“As co-owner of Cross Vegas, I am checking to see what compelled you to participate in our race without being registered as a legitimate competitor?”
Musta been a slow day around the office.
Homie Kevin from Cog Magazine took time out of his insanely busy schedule to give me a shout, post- CMWC;
Tokyo=Holy Fucking sushi. The CMWC were a blast. Had to get creative when i heard rumors of a mandatory brake for the race…. There were Japanese anime girls roaming the streets and pikachos running after them! The Bike shops were vomiting NJS Parts! Everyone with a megaphone was screaming into it! Asahi was the drink of choice and you could get it 24/7 from a fucking vending machine!!! You are a free man, stevil, why are you not living there ???
There are a myriad of locations I have no discernible reason for not residing in.
Tokyo is but one.
Now understand, Kevin put together a really cool collage of a series of shots he took while away, but for whatever reason, my naked lady box was rejecting the image, which sucks because it was like a pretty bow on Kevin’s present.
He said he’d hook me up with single shots instead, but as of posting time I hadn’t heard back from him, so in the absence of his images I’ll instead put up this totally unrelated picture from Tina B titled;
“Unsanitary at best, willfully negligent at worst”
“It takes a very steady hand… BUDDAH FINGAHS!”
Then from The Bike Lemming, I get this little slice of heaven;
“Hey Stevil, you gotta check this out, the greatest fight scene EVER!!!!! The end puts it over the top!”
The similarities of this clip to a dream I had recently are uncanny, with the exception of the fact that I ended the fight with not only no shirt, but no pants as well;
While we’re on the topic of kicking ass and not even beginning to care about taking names, I get this email from The Unholy Rouleur;
“This Johns Hopkins student should be convicted… Convicted of Posession of Deadly Awesomeness.
Talk about your Warrior Code.
I might have gone for a genuine Scottish claymore under the same circumstances, but to each his own.
All the best,
Did somebody just say ‘street justice’?
Now on to other subjects.. Captain Dave and Evil Carrie emailed me to extend thanks to everyone who helped out with getting her destroyed thumb taken care of;
“Stevil, perhaps if you would be so kind to let the Black Marketeers out there that we are extremely thankful for the donations big and small, from far and wide. Turns out she had what’s called a “Rolando Fracture”, and while a candidate for a great sounding band name, it’s a rough procedure. There’s a picture of it right here, but be warned, it ain’t too purdy. Unless you think Frankenstein shit is purdy, then you’ll get wood.
(*Editor’s note. I’m going to forgo the link, and just stick it up front and center because regardless of how gruesome the image is, Carrie’s flower-like beauty makes it considerably easier to deal with.)
But anyhow, we’re very thankful. We put a nice sized dent in some formidable medical debt due to the graciousness of your readers. All Hail The Black Market, indeed.
Dave and Carrie”
Thank you Dave and Carrie, and indeed.. Thank you to the readers that helped her in affording her road to recovery. If I could high five and hug each of you who helped, I would.
Since I can’t, I’ll just crack a beer.
In other news of contributing aide to a fallen compatriot, Ryan gave a slew of blog folks a shout to let us know of some action up in the PNW;
This event is for a sad reason, but a good cause. We take care of ours here in the Pacific Northwest. Please post this if you would, and have a great day. Oh- remember to wear a helmet! Fast riders fall hard.
PJ works for Raleigh USA, and is a solid individual, so any help would be appreciated. He had brain surgery after a head injury last December. Somewhere along the line he lost his sense of smell and taste. It’s messed with his life in a major way. He rides with the Dead Baby Bike Club too.
More info can be found here.
For whatever it’s worth, the band Throne of Bone is playing which is a fucking metal band. It’s not “Thrown a Bone”, which sound like it could be some sort of Counting Crows/Dave Mathews collaboration. Just thought I’d throw that out there.
Keep on rockin’ in the free world.
This post is beginning to look like a war zone.
Let’s stay safe out there people, please..
I need all of the readership I can keep my hands on. You all keep throwing yourselves around, the only people who will be left reading will be my parents, and I don’t think the esteemed individuals in the Maximo Supremeo section care too much about what they think..
Russell the muscle sent me an email, the subject line for which simply stated “damn dinner”;
It’s about time dinner started making a stand.
I got alot more crap, but you don’t have an equal amount of attention span, so it is here that I will pinch it off.
Here is to each and all of you getting your rad on, and for those of you who are sick, and by what I can tell, there’s alot of you, then feel better, and don’t forget to wash your hands alot. Or take frequent baths, or whatever.
As long as you stay clean.
Hot soup, Cold FX, vitamin C and clean bodies..
I swear by it.