Mr. Peabody and The Projectile Vomit Machine®.
Having scanned a total of four minutes worth of internet, I’ve come to the conclusion that while the bikes and parts and bells and whistles and all at this year’s NAHBS were very pretty, I’m not sorry I didn’t make the trip out. To date I have three (*correction* Make that two) of those custom bike shows under my brown belt, not including two additional shows in San Diego, which I believe have given me my fill.
Try as I might, I couldn’t find hide nor hair of my initial NAHBS reports, which if I remember correctly featured photos of a bag of rotting bag of meat stashed beneath a car, about one billion kids on fixed gears, some really pretty chrome flame lugs on a fire engine red Waterford;
-My first path crossing with Steve Garro since he almost died;
-and Tony Pereira’s Roaring 29er, which in my humble opinion should have won the best in show every year since;
I spent an abundance of time in The Wayback Machine looking for solid proof that any of that actually happened, but it was all for not.
If anyone is smarterer than me in regard to tracking that information down, I’m all ears.
Anyway, as far as this year’s events are concerned, I’m lucky to have a few folks in my holster who will happily do the heavy lifting, which Matt did with quickness;
I’m not too good at the whole brevity thing. I’d imagine you’d rather I shorten this, but I wanted to send it to you anyhow.
I’ve never been to Charlotte, but the airport looked close to town so I decided to borrow a Brompton and ride to my hotel. That’s when I got my first taste of Southern bike routes, this one was called the I-277 path. I took a picture after I got off on my exit;
Pretty low stress.
I then descended upon my hotel only to find I was accompanied by Chris King and his entourage. I informed them it was last call, they ordered 12 double Bulleits, and we were off. Friday morning started with a passable continental breakfast, and then we filed into the convention center and looked at bikes. Apparently they were all made by hand. I chatted with a lot of people and managed to evade the majority of the lug lickers’ drool. Then this guy took me to the Chris King party;
I missed out on the free tacos, but didn’t miss the free beer. Then things went kind of dark.
Saturday started hazy, though Ed put the previous evening in stark relief with a pic of me at the hotel bar without a shirt. I looked pleasant though, so that’s good.
Apparently Charlotte hosts the World’s Largest St. Paddy’s Day Pub Crawl. People were falling down drunk when I left the hotel at 10am. Then I looked at more bikes. People won awards, except for Don Walker. After the show we ate BBQ at Mac’s, Scuglia spent 10 minutes talking to our lovely waitress about a salad;
And then we went to a party with people racing to nowhere next to a bucket. Then it was last call at the hotel, I ordered 4 Budweisers. Then we went to an Irish pub and watched the drunks dance. One of us had to catch a cab after getting lost on the 3 blocks to the hotel.
Sunday I had a Carolina pulled pork sandwich and flew home. NAHBS was a success.
That Matt is a silver penned son of a gun, who by the look of things takes photos with a calculator, but I get what I pay for.
Of course if you want the real deal (Holyfield), look no further than the very impressive efforts of Jason Boucher. Jason’s photos are the first thing I’ve seen that actually leaves me wanting more.
You know…. Besides’s Matt’s calculator photos, natch.
I’ve also learned that next year’s show is not going to be in Boise, where I’d originally predicted, but rather, Louisville, Kentucky;
Moving on from that, to this next bit- A few months ago the good people from Bicycle Times, Swobo, and film maker extraordinaire James Wilson partnered up with one another for a video series about people who they deemed worthy of shining a spotlight upon, the first of the series being on Chris Igleheart.
Around that same time, they approached me and said that they’d like to do one about me as well. If I remember correctly, I believe my response was something along the lines of “Uh, ok I guess. But why?”
Fast forward to today, and for the first time ever, I’m getting put on display with this teaser for the eventual full length edit that’s set to be released in the next week or two;
Please believe me when I say I’ve been a wreck about this. I don’t consider myself worthy of such accolades, nor do I assume anyone would give a shit about who I am as a person, or what I do in my free time. But whatever- The damage is done, and now all I can do is sit back, watch the fallout and clench my teeth.
A documentary about paint drying, if there ever was one.
In other news, due to the fact that I’ve aimed my own particular brand of heckling at the Westboro Baptist Church for as long as I’ve known of their existence, I’ve been repeatedly notified that the WBC founder Fred Phelps is about to be dead.
The guy is a dick, no doubt, and his followers are about as crackpotty as a crackpot can get, yet I still find no pleasure in his passing.
Like Mr. Takei, I just hope that he finds some sense of peace before he checks out.
To that end, I suggest that the rest of us follow this lead;
In closing, I came across the following video edit featuring Kona Bikes’ Superhero Slaven in both his past, and present incarnations;
It’s been surmised that time travel would result in not only immediate and violent bouts of gastrointestinal expulsion, but immediate and violent bouts of neon lycra cladness as well.