I talk a pretty good game.

Don King

After last weeks “Portland better burn their pants” this, and “PDX’s legs are gonna be behind its ears” that, one might conclude that I had the debauched eye of the tiger and meant to turn the city out with quickness. I mean, that’s what my objective was, but as the adage goes, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.. Or those with good intentions go to Hell.. Or something like that.

As it turns out, my mouth was bigger than all other of my body parts when it came to touting what damage would be laid by my hands, and nearly from the moment I arrived, I was in the process of fighting a battle I stood no hope of winning.

As per the usual cop out I apply here after an experience that 1) defies description and 2) even if I could describe it, I can’t remember most of it anyway, I will post a selection of images that perhaps will allow you to draw your own conclusions as to what transpired.

Once you have figured it out, I would appreciate being let in on the mystery.

Right out of the gate I met up with recent MPLS transplant Schriner Or The Bandit, as he’s been known to go by. For the uninitiated, this was akin to jumping out of a car while doing 120 miles an hour and saying “I can totally land on my feet.” You think you can, and even with the most focused possible visualization of success, you’re still going to die.

john schriner pdx

But countering John’s ill wind was the delightful breezes that were Man Breaker and Stephanie, who met us for sandwiches, and to experience some of my artistic brilliance;

m beats the apple

car dust artwork

On the first night we held it down with reserved class and just made a mess in the backyard;


cheever in burning backyard

ruined backyard

At some point in the evening the bottom fell out of everything and we crawled away into our respective corners. Waking up considerably worse for wear the following day, we choked down a breakfast, fell back asleep, carried on discussions regarding just why it is we continually do this to ourselves, and then finally motivated to engage in an off road bicycle related athletic pursuit in the city’s long suffering epicenter for trail access, Forest Park. We did an equal amount of grab-assing as we did riding, but there truly is no better medicine for a hangover than a bike ride with some water, hair of the dog and sunshine;

dan prestan on track


dave flips off in forest park

As we jibbed, jabbed, zigged and zagged through the meandering fire roads of the park, we happened across none other than California DiStefano;

chris distephano in forest park

Emerging from the forest, we most assuredly came across the creepiest two-dude-Craiglist-hook-up ever, which made me finally understand why mountain bikes on the trails there present such a danger.

Finally come around sundown, the lot of us were back to feeling ourselves and were primed to make it to PDW for the big Circulus throw down. After all, this was what I was in town for, though that’s not to say when the mic was ultimately put into my hand and I was directed to MC the event with Murph, I had even the slightest clue what I was looking at or what the rules of the game were, so instead I distributed good natured insults and took photos;

womens turn on the circulus

tony with a touch of the downs

matt case creeps under circ

mens pursuit pdw


ll cool john pdw

cholie pdw

charlie and cheever

dwp dpow cap dave

busted wheel edwin

Some people rode, some eliminations were made, some people crashed, Paul and Caroline won, and I made a concerted effort to disqualify as many people as I could. My fist of judgement is neither consistent or fair. Fortunately no one was listening to me and to the victor went the spoils;

name board pdw

murph poors the beer

winner pdw

winner pdw 2

After pissing off a handful of people, this night in particular concluded with a ride from PDW to a peeler bar known world wide as Mary’s Club.

I seem to recall crashing twice on the way there, but it was dark so I can’t say for certain.

Once inside I was terrified of the huge number of people there, but I hunkered down in my corner preparing to ride out the storm. Unfortunately Case had other ideas and bought a lap dance for me with a lady who was very bendy. During her performance I for some reason I insisted on keeping my hands above my head the entire time except for a brief moment when I may have actually fallen asleep.

Around closing we packed up our bags, donned our helmets, flicked on our blinky lights and hit the high roads for home, resulting in several more crashes involving an array of my compatriots and myself, or in some instances, just a lone individual with a loose grasp on the concept of gravity.

Using both hands to pry my eyes open the following morning I was confronted with the fruits of my previous evening’s labor;


The transition out of Portland into the safe confines of my own home wasn’t without peril, as after the weekend’s conclusion and while waiting for the final bus back to my house, I was enveloped by a field trip of adults with special needs. For a brief moment, I was suddenly struck with the fear that their chaperones might mistake me for one of the group and I would never get home again.

I might talk a good game, but after the weekend’s developments, I realize conclusively that at least in this instance, ‘talk’ and ‘game’ are just monosyllabic utterances for nonsensical mumbo jumbo.

None of which I apparently am in any shortage of.


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Leave a Reply

6 Responses to “I talk a pretty good game.”

  1. gastonomicus fantz July 27, 2011 at 7:03 am #

    I want to party with the ‘Man Breaker’

  2. curtis July 27, 2011 at 7:05 am #

    Bleeding on a stripper while getting a lapdance = at least seven types of win.

  3. Case July 27, 2011 at 7:22 am #

    Thanks for stopping by on Sunday afternoon, good times on the patio and you didn’t even have to crash to do it.

  4. irishpunk59 July 27, 2011 at 8:46 am #

    damn man you always seem to come back from PDX a bloody mess

  5. devin July 27, 2011 at 1:30 pm #

    Tough to wake up and find your knees all Bloody.. Did you have a bunch of extra nickles in you pocket?

  6. Brad Parker July 28, 2011 at 9:46 pm #

    Rad to finally meet you. Har the Gnar