A dance of the damned.
When last we were together, I’d just covered the first day or so of my three days in Monterey and the eOtter Classic- A Celebration Of Burning Man For Bikes™.
I think I can wrap the second half up today. If not, then I trust you can use your imagination and we never have to speak of it again.
Or we’ll just handle it on Friday.
Because I got into town early, and was going to be able to skip the insanity of the weekend, I had the opportunity to take my time, look at stuff, and actually have conversations with people. Due to my OCD, doing either of those things in the thick of the storm would have been impossible.
As it was, I could focus all of my attention on the important things, such as the biblical wind storm that kicked up at the end of our first official day, wrecking the crap out of the Fitbit tent;
Perhaps next year they’ll remember that putting sand bags on the feet of their tent legs is akin parking your car on a hill and then stacking a couple of Legos in front of the tires to prevent it from rolling away.
Some may or may not have seen the note I left for them for the following day, but if you perhaps did not, it read;
It got super windy, your tent blew away, (ratchet strapping the feet to some sandbags will be a good plan for today.) Anyway, we moved your stuff under our tent.
I may have also noted that none of us knew how many calories we’d burned moving all of their shit, so if they could hook us up, that would be sweet.
I’ll be damned if they didn’t bring a stack of their product over to us the next day. Mine will most likely be sold on Craigslist, so if anybody is in need of one, hit me up;
Anyway, so we eventually skedaddled out of there, and headed back home for a lovely dinner prepared by Kona demo fleet manager Trevor. Shortly after which I found myself back at the bar where once again things got fuzzy.
Upon waking up with the roosters the following morning, and like the machines we are, we headed to the store for more supplies, followed by our return to the venue. I figured that since I’d seen most of what I’d wanted to the previous day, that today would be when I was able to lurk and see people, and snag shots of whichever remaining bits of hardware struck my fancy.
Today was also the day that I’d planned on going out and (gasp!) actually riding my bike. I figured that on my way out, I’d slap some hands and see what was what, as well as what was where.
Like for example, checking the booth of the very good folks from Feedback Sports, and actually meet Katie and Jeff, the latter with whom I’ve shared a number of emails;
I mean, look at how happy he is? How can I not trust a company with that face behind it? So, we chatted a bit and I snapped a couple of shots of what they had handy;
One item that caught my eye were these stands made by a brand called Scorpion, which apparently Feedback liked so much, they bought the company;
It’s a concept that might be familiar to those with ties to motocross, and would be of use either in the pits, or for display purposes.
Besides that, we discussed some other big doings they have coming down the pipe, which I’m most likely not at liberty to disclose. Rest assured that if you’re a fan of what they do, you’ll like what’s coming next.
At this point, my legs were getting itchy, so we said our goodbyes and I pointed myself towards the exit, but not before sticking my head in to see the Squid Kids;
That Emily is a peach.
Ironically they were posted up smack dab in front of the only red curb in the venue, and neither Squid Marty or I had our skateboards, so we just stared at each other in silence before I grabbed my bike and left.
I found my way to the dirt, but not before coming across some actual bike racing;
-As well as an eTard in his (un)natural environment;
Heaving a deep sigh, I took off and rode some of the XC course, where I saw nothing but my own ghosts;
The first time I ever rode out here I was aboard a purple Bontrager, and now here I am twenty years later aboard a purple Hunter.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Within a couple of hours I returned and immediately started firing off random photos of who and whatever appealed to me the most.
Like rockstar Jimbo from Stans;
And Joe Parkin Has Orange Hair;
And Tanner from Rever Brakes;
And Paul from Rock Lobster;
And Amanda at the Giro barn, who presumably didn’t flash her signature peace sign in this photo because I told her peace signs are like fedoras for your hand;
And I also saw superhonch Carl Decker (who *may or may not have* raced the moped race on his normal bike with a piece of extension chord sticking out of the frame);
*He did, and I think that’s awesome.
His lovely better half, Manbreaker;
-Who you might remember from this photo shot by Peter Newlands, and messed up with Photoshop by me;
She’s never not smiling.
Continuing on I saw the legend, big Steve Boehmke;
And that English bloke, Chipps Chippendale;
Of course there was Sally;
And Sky from Shinola;
And Curtis from Inglis and Retrotec;
And Dan from Campagnolo;
And not that any of the aforementioned are chopped liver, but then there was a real-live sighting of a real-live superstar.
The Shitbike, she lives. Sorta;
Do you remember when I had my way with her?
Photograph courtesy of Pamela Palma.
I barely do.
Then I saw my old chum Wyatt who was my compatriot at Santa Cruz Bikes back when he was a wee lad;
Nowadays he’s working with a company called Commencal, and was pushing all kinds of pretty bitchin looking dirt bikes of all shapes and sizes;
He was a little bummed because when the aforementioned Fitbit tent blew over, it actually hit him in the back of the head, through his own tent, knocking him across the Commencal sofa.
Because he didn’t know how many calories that took, he also got a free wrist computer out of the deal as well though so it was all good.
At this juncture, I’m looking through my notes and just realized that I have exactly one more entire post’s worth of content to barf out, so go outside to catch butterflies or something.
Let’s meet back here day after tomorrow, and we’ll get this disaster all buttoned up like a knot of bouncing men.
You should hang onto that ShitBit until at least WSATU 2016. I’d be interested to see how many calories you burn taping up Bud cans and swinging your wizard staff around like Gandalf. Might be enough for one more beer.
It’s like, if you want a moto, buy a moto. You get way more respect rocking out a Ducati (ok, way, way more respect, plus, you aren’t lame). Same guy goes to BuckStars and orders a Frapawhatthefuck. You want a milk shake, go get a milk shake. You want coffee, go get an espresso from a real coffee shop. There just ain’t no in between.
That felt good.
My first thought was, did Decker win? Then it was, there are no winners in an ebike race.
Hi Stevil – In the interests of cultural diplomacy I feel that I should tell you that a “travalah” is any beer procured for the purpose of mobile imbibement. Furthermore, your “travalah” may or may not travel in a “stubby cooler”, or cuzie, to use the parlance of your American times.
Also, don’t be confused by the fact that a long necked small bottle of beer is called a “stubby”. which in itself is a throwabck to the time when small bottles of beer did indeed have short or “stubby” necks, and large bottles of beer were, and are, called “longnecks” (e.g. “Crackus a longneck yacaahhhhhn”).
In closing, let me just stay that yes I fully realise that I am “that guy” on the inertnet right now but I sincerely hope that the strength of the relationship bewteen our two countries will see us through these minor misunderstandings.
I’m a retarded American, and as such, I don’t know jack shit. That should be evident of my kind by now.
Hey I thought camouflage beer cans were the most amazing thing I’d ever seen in my life when I was in Texas a couple of years ago. I mean, beer and guns right? What could possibly go wrong? Which goes to prove nothing other than there is no bad commentary on the subject.
But strangely enough it’s midnight here and I just drank a 6 pack of Bud and a few cans of Jack and coke. So who’s ignorant now?
Yeah thought so. That really show’d ’em.
I want to race Sea Otter before I die, maybe I should plan to go soon? Just in case. . . .
Imagine a constant headwind and lots of climbing. At least that’s how it used to be.
Dan Large… Working with that cat at Adams Ave Bikes (Punk as Fuck!) was one of the highlights of my life as a bike mechanic.
But Decker racing the eTard race with and extension cord end hangin’ outta his real bike? I can only hope to have him as my spirit animal…