All the ‘Epic’® you need in one place.
But be aware… You’ll need a nap to recover.
Last week, ambassador to all things bicycle, and one of my older as well as oldest friends, Eugene Paul Oberpriller clued me in on a video that’s been making the rounds, that I would have been better off never having watched, if only to save what little masculinity I had collected in my body since puberty left me;
“Hey, didn’t we go on a trip like this, but with bicycles? And that wasn’t horrible?”
(Presumably because the people at The Wilderness Collective are being assaulted with every shade of taunt, the video can no longer be embedded. Click on the link, and prepare to bathe in a man-venture for the ages.)
Please, for all is good and right, watch the video. Then reflect quietly on Rapha’s influence on what you’ve watched, followed by vigorously rubbing your face in despondence.
But you know me. I’m not going to leave you hanging in a cloud of douche. No sirs and ma’ams. Luckily I will now offer the Gawker response which systematically tears down and makes fun of every possible component of what you just saw.
Ahhhh… That feels better.
I had initially posted this over on the AHTBM Facebook page, at the conclusion of which I offered my own thoughts;
“It’s an interesting topic. We live in a society where (referring to this discussion specifically) manhood doesn’t involve vision quests, or chopping down our first tree, or fighting a bear, or hanging from vines, or whatever. We get drivers licenses, careers, families, and so forth. In my younger years, I felt a bit lost in this regard, and wondered frequently when a person becomes a man. We’re all so disconnected, that it takes a motorcycle ride with cigars to quantify (or qualify) that step. For me it was simply achieving a level of self assuredness and a series of events where I felt as if I finally was looked at as an equal and with respect by and from my dad. We all get it where we can I suppose, and that being said, I guess if a person feels that comes from a motorbike ride, far be it from me to criticize. Even so, though I still think while the actions depicted in the video look like a blast, the (pretentious) motivation for self realization seems hollow as fuck.”
As I believe one of the comments from the Gawker article noted, ‘this is what happens to children who were never allowed to leave their front yards‘.
It’s curious to point out that no mention is ever made of if it’s the responsibility of the participants of the trip, or the support crew to carry additional lavender eye packs, citrus face scrub, and Loofahs.
So anyway, regardless of the gender of the person who is reading these words, please kick off your man-shoes, get comfy in your man-throne, and let’s get on with the rest of today’s post, which will assuredly challenge our very essence, and leave us all with the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood.
While we’re on the topic, one way I like to envelop all that is man, is to wear pants.
I’m a near life-long supporter of Ben Davis. As a matter of fact, I rarely, if ever have worn anything else these last twenty five years. I realize that those who have the misfortune of ever meeting me might assume that I’m just a homeless person, but the fact of the matter is I’m hyper particular about what I wear and how what I wear feels on my parts.
So I was skeptical when Jason emailed me and asked if I’d be interested in trying some of the pants that are made by a company he works for called Betabrand. Upon arriving home a few days after our correspondence, I found a snack had been left in my desk chair;
I opened the box, and found a pair of quite fetching looking black ‘Bike To Work’ pants inside, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a tinge of disappointment when opening the box and not seeing some of these.
I put them on and through the size 36 waist felt a-ok, the leg sleeves were a touch too tight on my powerful, powerful thighs. Sensing danger, Jason did me a solid and sent off a pair of 38s, which I tried on as soon as they arrived and contrary to my previously declared perspective (“if there’s one thing I love, it’s hating stuff“), my hand has been forced with these, and I actually kinda really love them.
When I was a very young boy, my mom used to be fond of teasing me by telling me I had ‘the cutest little butt in town‘.
That clearly is no longer the case.
Anyway, the pants have all kinds of bitchin bells and whistles, among them being a relaxed fit, gusseted crotch, slight stretch (88% cotton, 2% spandex and 10% Poly), a reflective flag that pulls from within the left rear pocket;
-as well as a pretty sweet little stash spot inside of the right front pocket, presumably to keep one’s phone safely separated from keys, loose change or a selection of potentially screen scratching wood screws.
At $118.00, they’re not cheap, but compared to $88.00 for the Levi’s and $220.00 for those made by Rapha, they’re competitive. Plus the fact that they also offer a women’s cut, (not to mention an entire women’s collection) and they’re made right here in the U.S. of A gives me something else to feel good about.
In conclusion, while I can’t fit my calves, let alone the rest of my bottom half into the Levi’s offering, and don’t know what having $220.00 for a pair of pants even feels like, Betabrand’s idea of a bike specific pant is just what my legs, hips, and no longer very cute butt was looking for.
Finally, in closing, it’s no secret that Guy Fieri rests comfortably along side Corey Feldman and Sammy Hagar in the ranks of people who absolutely make my skin crawl.
I’m happy to note that I’m not alone in this sentiment as apparently due to the fact that Guy neglected to buy the web domain for his own restaurant, someone else did and created a suitable Fieri-esque menu;
Of all the items listed, ‘The Football Meal’ piqued my interest the most;
“Warm, broken hamburgers served in a clear plastic bag, enclosed in a larger black trash bag. Thrown at you from 40 yards.”
It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it happens to be just the kind of meal I’d prefer to serve to a gaggle of motorbike riding adventurebros.
That menu won Wednesday Internet.
Couldn’t watch the whole video. This comment underneath made it all worthwhile though. ”
Hey Bro. SWEET VID. A few Q’s:
Where did u get the fish from? They look great! Thinking about throwin a few on my grill later.
Where can I get one of those red jackets? Are they warm?
I’m so happy I watched that video in its entirety, now anything I do today will seem more meaningful…in comparison.
I tried to watch the whole video but soon realized I was lurking somewhere I clearly don’t belong. Women have no business in the wild – the grooming grounds for men – where matching outfits, delicately poached eggs, and gin & tonics create a band of brothers forever united through pain and suffering.
I do, however, love me some Beta Brand lady pants. Natch.
Wilderness Collective would have been way better without the narrative…and the video.
I’ve made the “Reno!!!” for myself at home; I just didn’t know that’s what it was called.
And here I thought wheeled vehicles were outlawed in Wilderness. I’m signin’ up for a trip, and I won’t need my compass to find north, I’ll just “feel” it.
I tried to watch—I did—because the videography was lovely and I’m a sucker for “wilderness” but I couldn’t get past the fact that the narrator sounded about as masculine as a dancer at Dantés. Which is to say, not very masculine. And was the matching jacket and boot thing supposed to be a uniform? Uniform = masculine? Because by that logic the local hipsterjack (what do you get when you cross a frighteningly skinny hipster with a lumberjack’s beard and flannel shirt) are über masculine, which of course would be a lie. And G&Ts and “all the guys chipped in”? Sadly, by this standard I think I may be more masculine than these dudes. Not saying riding a bike for hours/days on singletrack and taking a pull on a flask of whiskey at conclusion of said ride is necessarily masculine, but it’s at least less frou-frou than pretentious couture wilderness. In fact, if this is some form of “new masculinity” that begins to infect single men everywhere I may have to switch teams. Which wouldn’t be so bad if Gawker’s Caity Weaver is on it. Girl made me LOL a lot.
Apologies for fueling the fire, but this video got under my skin a few weeks ago:
A rando-esque permanent with a Ford Econoline support vehicle ain’t cool in my little world.
So, these epic motorcycle adventures, they are like bicycle rides only people can’t talk to each other along the way, unless they stop?
Were they gathering firewood in SNP?
If anyone cares, the trip Geno was referring to, was one of these. http://westernspirit.com/. Like he said, same thing, but not lame.
I got to take a western spirit trip up on the Colorado Trail. Intense and fun single-track for miles and miles:
And I won’t complain about being able to show up to cold beers, good food, and all your gear at the end of each ride.
Oh, and we made grease bombs:
Wanna see a dead body?
I’m going to offer a weekend camping adventure for bros in my backyard. “Craft cocktails” will be substituted by Budweiser, and your dinners will probably consist of Pizza Hut. I’ll start weekends next to the pump track at $595.00. Any takers? (W.S.A.T.U. weekend is double).
I think that vid is a thinly veiled pitch for a “reality” type show. They are shooting for a certain demo……………….
And Ashley is tougher than any of those guys and can make a mean salad after a long day of riding!
Perhaps Beta could make some $118 “Men’s” Wilde Adventure Pants for The Wilderness Collective, in matching burnt sienna orange with pockets for hand-crafted artisinal snacks.
I saw the video a couple days ago, and let me tell you the best part of all was the mute button. Made the whole thing actually look like a good time. Though I’d rather not have a matching jacket. Also, I love me some G&Ts, but what makes them truly masculine is if they’re served in the worlds most daintily sized enamel camp cups. Stevil, can we have gin and tonics together out of your Lego guy mug?
I tried muting too, but found that it couldn’t be unheard.
That outfit needs to rethink its media strategy double quick.
I used to camp out with my buddies like this. We would all wear matching boots and camoflauge clothes eating artisanaly curated MRE’s. We found a great campsite called Iraq.
Do you feel that feeling you’re feeling? That’s you winning the internet today.
What Stevil said, man. FTW
That video always reminds me of the joke, “Do you know the difference between camping and sodomy?” “No.” “Wanna go camping?”
If someone had posted that video with the basic narrative of, “Look at the awesome trip me and my buddies took. We rode sweet dirt bikes all over NorCal and ate and drank like kings. Great weekend!” then I would be down with it. But the psuedo-psych navel gazing and bromancing sickens me. Never mind the term “Band of Brothers”. You didn’t spend 4 years chasing Nazis around western Europe. You whipped out the gold card for a boys weekend away, asshole.
Come on Thom, the joke is “if you went camping and woke up with bacon grease around your asshole, would you tell anyone? No? Want to go camping?” And the real band of brother’s only needed about 11 months to chase the Nazis around Western Europe. The rest was just manly taunting and anticipation.
I watched about 20 seconds of the video and now feel the need to poke my eardrums out and stab myself in the face with a fork.
I kind of like artisan snacks.
That video made me want to Puke!!
It’s down to the old saying, “The only reason some people are alive is because it’s illegal to shoot them”
Eck. I had trouble watching that.
I think one weekend of backpacking with my old man was more manly than anything those asshats will ever do in their lives.
Say what you will about Rapha, but at least they’re actually doing something that requires effort: climbing mountains, fixing their own flats. These tools have a support crew and aren’t even drunk on cheap hooch when doing it. If you give me $1000, I’ll take you on a sketchy road bike mountain odyssey and you’ll get to drink beer from bottles in mountain bars with guys who look a bit less “artisinal”.
I was once “superbanged in a volcano of Tabasco butter.” It was on a Wilderness Collective ride. I wont go as far as to say I found my inner man, but someone did.
To be fair, using French press while camping is actually a pretty good idea.
Also, I have two testicles.
They left out the part where everyone does the herpes handup and then swaps stories about how hard art school was.
Who was responsible for filling gas tanks on that trip? I’m guessing the workers handled all the gas while the riders stood around enjoying finger sandwiches and basked in their manliness.
I’ve been staring at the Betabrand women’s line for almost two weeks now but, alas, their clothing would not fit my… er… zaftig or athena-esque cyclist body. While my Fella loves my tits and ass- the Betabrand pin-stripe hoodie and jeans wouldn’t not be as accepting.
“immersed in the wild”
What the fuck is it with cycling-specific pants that are not cut to fit cycling-specific legs?
If there is one feature that is critical for a pair of bike-to-work pants, it’s clearance to fit my bike-to-work guns inside said pants, without having to upsize, then scrunch the now oversized waist in with a belt. You can keep all the reflecty shit. If I want that, I’ll accessorise. I just want pants that fit me.
I’ve learnt to avoid all pantage that is labelled as “athletic fit”. That’s code for “twig legs, no arse and a beer gut”. Fucked if I know what’s athletic about that. Should be labelled as “sit on the couch watching football and eating cheez-doodles fit”.
Best cycling civvies I’ve come across are a pair of no-brand black stretch denim jeans. It’s like 1992 all over again, just with less flannel. Shoe-horn my junk in, and they reshape themselves to fit. Kind of like real cycling type knicks, but with more potentially painful crotchal seams. And pockets.