I don’t know why, but the older I get, the more certain I become that every time I leave the house will be the last time I leave the house.
It would seem that my paranoia continues to be suspect.
Hello and happy Monday. Before we get into the action I would like to post up an email that I received from Nick, which should serve as a cautionary tale to anyone jumping recklessly into a bet;
Hey there Stevil,
Not sure if you remember Old Ben Cleveland, he was an East Bay rascal and Kona employee for many years, and I believe at one point he traded you a set of my Double Barrel Cranks for some tattoo work. But that’s beside the point. The point is he made it to my neck of the woods for the Whiskey 50 this year and a bet was made on the race.
Winner picks the loser’s Tattoo.
So, while I was sitting at the finish line tossing back some suds and eating multiple corndogs I had plenty of time to think about the bet;
While Ben was busy trading recipes with the folks in the back of the pack and coming second to last in the single speed category I settled on “the chocolate chip cookie recipe”. Enjoy;
Thanks for any help taking his embarrassment global,
This is just fantastic, and I thank both Ben and Nick’s efforts in helping to make this broken down old man, as the kids say, ‘lol‘.
Now then- as I mentioned on Friday, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna have anything done for today, but because I’m committed, I obviously do. The potential hangup was that I spent the weekend up (out? over?) there in Chico in the company of Paul and Marley of Paul Component Engineering. The reasons for this trip were two fold. The first is that towards the end of the month he’d invited me to attend the first ever Paul Comp press camp. There will be a smattering of other bike blog douchebags (same diff), and four days of fun, food, and frivolity. Let’s call it ‘Paulapalooza‘.
I’ve already filed for a trademark on that name, so on the chance that Paul Component Engineering would like to use it, they will have to speak with my lawyer.
If I had a lawyer.
Anyway, since I had a previously scheduled thing for the same time span, I decided that I would go there and just spend a couple days goofing around and make my own press camp.
The other reason is that I just am simply quite fond of the Prices, and thought it might be nice to spend some time with these folks who I primarily only ever get to see at bike shows, or races, or group rides or whatever. It seemed like a good excuse to meet up and investigate if we actually like each other.
So Demonika and I loaded up my sweet new whip, and headed for points northeast. Upon our eventual arrival, we first stopped by HQ to crack a beer, poke around, and to scratch some fuzzy buddies;
Sadly, I came across the fleet of bikes that are being assembled for the participants of the aforementioned Paulapalooza, none of which will be for me;
The day was getting on however, so we jetted back to Paul’s house to meet up with Marley, get on fat bikes, and ride to dinner;
Now, I don’t know if you know this, but on a fat bike, you can totally ride over potholes and stuff. As a mater of fact, at one point, I rode over a bunch of rocks in someone’s front yard like they weren’t even there. I’ve never seen anything like it.
After dinner, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks, Marley and I wound up getting in the creek, before all returning home for a slumber;
The following day we’d decided on a ride. The ladies were going to go for their own ride, and Paul and I were to go on ours, which resulted in a whole lotta fun, and one (1) broken chain;
I’ve only ridden mountain bikes here one time previous to this, and at that time I can recall Blue Collar Bikes’ honch Robert Ives declare that if Chico was the first place he’d ridden mountain bikes, that he would have never ridden them again. It’s real rocky, and real exposed, and real challenging for the uninitiated.
Thankfully, I was aboard my beloved new Kona, and sections that I know would have made my back, and wrists, and knees all cry out in pain were nothing but mole hills. It was then that I decided I will most likely never ride anything but this bike ever again.
After head dunks, and lots of conversation regarding the state of the world, things we don’t like, politics, family history, music, and a couple other topics, we headed home to get cleaned up and prepare that evening’s guests of honor, being Jeremiah (who I claim looks like a young Rick Ruben) and Tamie, both of whom would soon arrive for food, drinks, and fire;
Before long, a fellow named Matt Loomis arrived, who I was very much looking forward to meeting. Besides being an artist of extraordinary skill, he’s also responsible for this graphic, which happens to be emblazoned upon one of my all time favorite t-shirts;
So all of us, and then most of us, and then a few of us sat, and chatted;
Eventually at about 1:00 am, my eyelids suddenly got heavy, and I remember wondering how I was going to get home.
I took that as a sign that I should probably call it a night.
The following morning we woke up, ate breakfast, and after a bit of procrastinating, Monika and I finally threw all of our junk into my proverbial trunk.
Staying true to a component of road trips that I’ve long been a fan, we decided to make part of the trip the transport portion itself, and peeled off the highway to beat the crap out of each other in a couple of games of miniature golf;
Though my mind and body were playing golf, my heart was skateboarding;
So there we have my version of the 2016 non-Paulapalooza. Keep your eyes peeled to sites like Bike Rumor, and Cyclocross Magazine after the week of the 23rd where you’ll find the skinny on the whole, official shebang.
Chances are good that for better or worse, their coverage will have both 80% more relevant information, 100% less tasting love the way we made it, and at least 3% fewer gratuitous Barry Manilow references.