Here we go.
Does that opening photo make everyone thing of this song, or is it just me?
Anyway, as the adage generally goes, it’s often times better to run towards something than away from it. Unless it’s a bomb, a serial killer, or a gigantic poisonous snake with legs.
I guess the adage refers to running towards something good (opportunity) over running away from something bad (your problems).
I can’t remember. Anyway, I have a marginal helping of something good, so let’s lace up our shoes and run towards it now.
Not that it’s the best of news, but after eight years of cashing four different bars out of their entire stock of beer, for 2017 I’m pulling the plug on The Underbike Industry Mixer®;
This of course isn’t to say it will never happen again, but the reasons (a few I’ve elaborated on here recently) are multiple.
The bottom line is I’m out of gas on the new Interbike venue, I’ve been attending this show for twenty-some years, Underbike is a pretty fair expenditure of both time and money, and this year I simply desired a break.
I love this party though, and in the last five years, we’ve blown some doors, broken some hearts, and bent some minds;
I already have some irons in the fire for 2018, so wherever it ends up landing (*Denver, *Denver, *Denver), The Underbike Industry Mixer® will once again rear its head, and come back swinging with a vengeance.
In the meantime, you can look forward to spending Thursday, September 21st sitting on the rocks outside of the Luxor and sharing man cans with whatever assembly of dirtbags are present;
If there are none, then you will be an assembly of one, and that’s ok too.
Moving on from those kinds of business matters, to others- As I mentioned at the tail end of Monday’s post, from time to time, I inexplicably find myself in the very fortunate position to receive random goodies in the mail from folks. Sometimes it’s clothing, and sometimes it’s bike parts, and sometimes it’s music. Occasionally however, I’m bestowed with the gift of literature, which was the case two weeks ago when I got this very thoughtful care package from Lyn at Microcosm Publishing;
This of course is the earth-shaking illustrated love affair of Henry And Glen Forever (+ Ever), and the accompanying Henry And Glenn coloring book.
Do you know what Heaven is like? It’s like riding your bike to the post office to ship off an array of orders, finding this waiting for you, and skedaddling off to enjoy a cup of coffee as you read both cover to cover, resulting in sitting on the park bench laughing by yourself like a goddamned loon.
The artwork (contributed by an array of notable artists) is fantastic, the story lines are hilarious, and knowing that Glenn is out there somewhere sitting squarely beneath his little black cloud about it makes it all that much better.
Oh, and did I mention that besides cameos from all of your favorite metal stars thoughout the entirety of the primary story in ‘Henry And Glenn’, their neighbors are Satan worshipping Daryl Hall and John Oats?;
I don’t think I did, and they are, and it’s awesome.
If any of the shenanigans I’ve described above fall in line with your own particular twisted aesthetic, then by all means hit up Microcosm Publishing, or get in touch with your favorite local independently owned and operated retailer to grab one for yourself.
With Hank and Glenn’s love as my witness, you shan’t be sorry.
Now, reversing from a story of forbidden, albeit celebrated affections to one that’s been making the rounds within the mountain bike community recently regarding injuries to a rider clotheslined by a barbed wire booby trap;
Though today it seems there’s potentially a bit more to the story.
I sincerely hope this guy isn’t pulling a scam, as it would certainly put area cyclists, and trail access in jeopardy, but apparently based on local opinion, it’s not above the fellow in question to attempt such a thing.
If the story is actually as shady as the locals suspect, then may he be run out of town on a rail.
Finally, before we part ways and bail out in your different directions, I feel as though I should mention that I have just recently gotten off the phone with Corndog of Dank Bags and we are real, real close to getting the second, and more than likely final run ever of the Stuntman Association cozies;
I’m mentioning this now, because the last order sold out in exactly twelve minutes. I’m also noting that these will never be done again, because they were an absolute monumental pain in the ass for Corndog to make. They were so much so that I’m actually gonna have to do some fancy footwork just to have me make any sort of cüzie for me in the future.
So in short, and though I’m not the boss of you, once I have them in hand they’ll be gone faster than you can run.
Seeing the story about the barbed wire previously, I looked at the dudes bike set up, saw his saddle position and went, hmmmmmmmm, something is off kilter here.
When I was a kid, a surveyor had left twine across a trail where I rode quite a bit. Not as injurious as barbed wire, but still left a very nasty mark. In Vermont, I’ve encountered un-flagged electric fence wire across public roads. Though not malicious (maybe), the degree of recklessness is profound to leave something nearly invisible across a trail.
H&G sitting in a tree… purrfect compliment to Tour de Pharmacy
My stuntman cüzie gets a lot of looks and touches just about every place I go a-stuntin’. Which makes sense since it sparkles and shines with a light that comes from within. Now when folks ask me how they can get their grubby little paws on one, I’ll have good news for them (for the time being). For your next trick, howsabout a burrito kickstand?
yeah, I got semi-clotheslined by constructors twine at the bottom of a fast downhill runnin’ late to get back to highschool to play in a waterpolo match… ground grooves near my wrists, then settled on the inside crook of my right elbow, taking a quarter inch of skin four inches long… needless to say, I didn’t drop in the water that day… still funky scar, but you don’t see it ’cause it’s in the bend… was stoked it didn’t slide up to my neck, though, that’s for sure…
Freeman once dared me to get Hank to sign my copy of H&G. Although I passed I read were he doesn’t care one way or another whereas Glen defers slightly. Slightly.