Kicking off today’s hodgepodge is a notification that artist to the stars, Brado just buffed out the promo poster for September’s Monster Cross Challenge;It might seem silly to begin promoting a race that’s not scheduled until fall, but chances are this is gonna fill up quickly, so you might as well get on board now, because you won’t be able to later.
In other news of flyers and the events they promote, please take notice of the Levi’s commuter series blowout slated for, um… Tomorrow? Yeah, that’s right. Come join my compatriots and me at a bash hosted by The Mission Bicycle Company;
Each of the ‘crews’ (that would be the dirts from Zeitgeist Racing and Godspeed Courier and myself) will have limited edition t-shirts on hand and for sale, the proceeds from which will directly benefit Kiva, The Bay Area Women’s and Children’s Center, and I.M.B.A.. That doesn’t suck. Get a sweet shirt and know that your money is going somewhere other than into the pocket of a drug dealer. That’s something we can all feel good about.
Except for the drug dealer I guess. It’s kind of a bummer for them.
As long as we are on the topic of events, I guess I will take the opportunity to discuss this past weekend’s Velo Cult shop warming and all of the other nonsense and mayhem that occurred in association with my arrival to Portland. As anyone who has spent a share of time on this site knows, The City of Roses has on many occasions chewed me up and spit me out without so much as a kiss goodbye, and I would be lying if I said this trip was any different.
I arrived on the scene and was immediately met by the dirtbag. Of course when one is planning to embark on a weekend of godless heathenry, having such a skilled guide is imperative. Before we got into anything however, I did what I do every time I go there and called a woman whose ass has its own Facebook fan page;
And in following with tradition, before we parted ways I gave her some artwork to remember me by;
Because after all, 41 is the new 14.
But at this point, daylight was burning, so it was time to meet up with the Beaver because the knob wasn’t going to both, turn to eleven and get broken off without some assistance;
As it turned out, The Beaver had already bent reality with his allocation of a new bike mojo;
My plea to give the little fellow a proper burial fell on deaf ears as our new mascot stayed in or company though the duration of the evening.
Then again, when The Beaver is driving the bus, your best hope is just to stay out of spitting distance, as time with him is not unlike what I would imagine it would be like to hang out with an ill behaved and poo-flinging monkey.
To counter his antics, I made a trip to stop by and see my website superhero Gary;If you want a muscle car built, a tree topped, a kitchen redone, a website built or a gap kickflipped, Gary is your man. If I wasn’t married, and Gary was a girl, I would give him my forever.
Now that we were sufficiently lubed, it was time to make our way to the bike shop to see what was what. As it turns out, what was in fact, was ‘what’ was and it just so happens I have some photos to prove it;
Like I’ve said before, Velo Cult is known for their clean bathrooms.
The young woman whose back it turned to us, if I remember correctly, showed visible disapproval towards some of our antics, so to her I would like to offer a sincere apology. When hanging out with an ill behaved poo flinging monkey, sometimes one’s own demeanor can take a turn to the similar.
This is Jeremy’s scar tissue. They had to cut his ear off in order to repair its drum. He’s like a well dressed Frankenstein.
Something about this moustache compelled me to get a decent close up photo of it. Posting it compels me to find its botanical counterpart;
Among the many treasures found in the labyrinth of the building, Anthony’s chopper was certainly one. This is the gas cap of his chopper that his holding his grandmother’s finger, which she accidentally cut off and then after not being able to reattach it, sent to him.
Sky said that right now his shop is about 20% done. They have big, big plans and when he mentioned to me “this is my ‘I hate bike shops’, bike shop”, it was confirmed that his spot is most definitely set to be our clique and scene’s (click and seen?) clubhouse.
The crowds were thinning and sleep was imminent, but my host pulled what he called an ‘Irish Goodbye’. Without a word he vanished into the night, so I found someone else who would have me for the evening. At some point between midnight and three, I concluded day one by hitting the pillow at one hundred and fifty miles an hour.
It’s at this stage in our game that I am going to pull the plug on today’s post. The second installment of the the booze fueled Kamikaze flight that was 72 hours in Portland will conclude on Friday. Highlights may or may not include chicken and waffles, passing out at a bus stop, and cleavage.
And very possibly all three at the same time.