My ass hurts. I hate ass rash with a passion and I’ve got a little dose of it. I hit the pavement at the Tour of St Louis CarondeletCriterium and I have no one to blame but myself. I was in a break of seven with two laps to go in the master race. I noticed everyone else was shucking their water bottles off to the side, getting ready for the sprint, and I thought I should do the same thing. I gave that bottle a little toss close to Pam Hinton, who was watching the race from the side line. Pam took a bad fall in the Joe Martin Stage race and lost a tooth, broke a wrist and a potentially fractured a vertebra. She’ll be off the bike for a while. The water bottle took a long 20 yard bounce and smacked Adrienne Murphy right in the back of her leg. It was kinda funny to watch; almost as funny as my shit must have looked as the guy to my left and I bumped front wheels. Down I went. I managed to get a foot out and two hands on the ground so I just ended up with ass rash, which I hate. If I would have been paying attention, I’d have noticed the flow of the pack moving to the right and not went down.  I was back on the bike quickly but my brakes were shoved tight against my rims. I had to dismount, readjust and go again. Totally screwed, I took 7^th.  It was almost the exact same spot I had wrecked 18 years ago when Jimmy Schneider had accidentally taken out my front wheel. He felt really bad afterward and pulled out this huge first aide kit and patched my ass up. Jimmy was a fine rider and we both knew wrecks were part of the package. Apparently one of the MAC riders hasn’t learned this lesson yet. He was chewing Julie Carter out after the Masters race about a wreck that had happened over a year ago. She had her kids with her and took an ass chewing from this jerk all the while maintaining a smile. The MAC rider didn’t hang around long. As our mouths were agape, we never had a chance to respond or interfere. I talked to Julie a bit afterwards and asked what the MAC riders temper tantrum was about. She told us the story and said she didn’t let it bug her as she tries hard not to let stuff like that get her. Good for you Julie, you’re obviously a better person than most. For the MAC rider, get over it or at least don’t chew a woman out while her kids are around, a total lack of class.

            About 10 years ago a local guy was riding at the local time trial. He had his head down and didn’t notice the car parked on the side of road. He hit it head on and was an immediate paraplegic. My wife worked as a nurse at Rusk hospital at the time and she helped take care of him. She told me she had never seen such a patient. He asked for all the books on rehab in the facility and read them all. He was eager to get back to life He went through rehab with flying colors and left much earlier than anyone would have expected. After graduating from college with a degree in the lucrative field of Philosophy, I ran a lawn business. I mowed his yard. He was ever pleasant and had a lot going on. The wheel chair never slowed him down. He has since focused on his career and is the head of the Department of Preventive Medicine at a major University.

            I took a little nap under a tree and waited for the Cat 1,2 race to begin. I had another chance to redeem my hurt pride or do another hip slapper on the pavement. The race began fast but settled down after a few laps. I sat in for around 10 laps and then got in a few breaks. None of them stuck. After one of the breaks got caught, the winning break went. Show Pony managed to make it. The break increased their lead to around 30 seconds when Joe Hill went. He and Josh Carter bridged with a sense of urgency. I saw him go and thought of trying to go with him. I gave it about the same amount of time as I gave to thinking about shaving my legs and washing my bike Friday night, about a full five seconds. They bridged and Joe won the race. Beef Cakes John Kersha (Dog Fish) took a flyer from our pack and hung in no mans land for about 10 laps. When the pack got close to pulling him in, I rode behind Jason Oz (Dog Fish) and told him he owed it to Beef Cakes to counter and he did. It was a sweet move even though it didn’t stick. Jason’s had a hard time finding his form and I know it’s been bumming him out, but he’s beginning to come around. He rode as well of a race as I’ve seen him ride all year. Butthead was the workhorse for the Big Shark team and labored tremendously chasing early breaks down. When our pack got word that Joe Hill didn’t want to the break to lap the pack. Josh got the troops pulling at the front. John Bunny Rines was one of the troops and suffered like a true BOCOMO blood rider. I marked Kurt Fletchers wheel for the sprint but couldn’t keep hold of it. Kurt took 3^rd in the field sprint. He was a bit bummed about not winning the field sprint and accounted it to getting old. He told me 10 years ago he could have held the two guys off that beat him. He ain’t lying. Getting old sucks and I feel your pain Kurt.

            I have a friend who lives in a wheel chair these days. As a young man he had some abusive parents and lived in a car in an empty lot with his younger brother. He took care of things. He feed his brother and got the both of them off to school. A kindly person took him and his brother into their home. My friend became quite the runner and ran track all the way through high school. He went on to college and ran track there also. One really hot day, midway thru a run, he dove off a bridge to cool off in the water below. He hit something and came out a quadriplegic. I see my friend around town from time to time. He has earned his law degree and now practices law. Every time I see my friend he has a grin from ear to ear. We tell each other nasty jokes. I always walk away from him being a bit better of person. He never complains, never gripes and always smiles.

            I missed having Arjuna in the pack. I’m too old to win Cat 1, 2 events but strong enough to help a guy like him win. He is in the midst of big life changes and bumming out a bit. He needs to finish his PHD and finish it soon. He is slated to take a job in sunny California in August. Stuff has to get done and biking is going to take a back seat. Arjuna is one of the best racers I have ever seen and has a tremendous amount of talent. He trained hard for this year and was looking forward to the Joe Martin Stage Race and the Snake Alley Criterium. It ain’t going to happen for him this year.

Jim, Pam and I drove home after the race. We skipped the Time Trial. There was some talk of coming back the next day but it never happened. I reluctantly missed Sunday’s race. I needed to stay home and help my son with some school work.

            There’s a guy in town that lost his son in a bicycle accident. His son was riding his bike late one night when a driver hit him. The driver panicked and decided not to stop. He dragged the kid for some way under his car and the kid’s life ended. A father lost his son. The father then did a surprising thing. He bought a bike and became involved with the local biking community. He began racing, promoting bike safety, became the race team president and put on a few races.

            I popped a few cold beers and ate bratwurst Sunday night. The harmonica player in our band stopped buy with a Dobra. He’s trying to learn to play it. I pulled out my banjo and played along. We had a few more beers and went down to Flat Branch and watched the Ironweed Bluegrass band play. I’m going floating with my family and some friends next weekend so I won’t be at the memorial races, but I’ll be living large on a cold river, maybe even catch a couple of trout. Don Quixote said, “we need to live life with death on our shoulders as a constant companion”.  I try hard to keep in mind as I spend my short time here. I also keep these wonderful people who smile in the face of tragedy in my memory banks as reminders that I still live a charmed life. So I wrecked on Saturday, missed the race Sunday and have an oozing sore that hurts like hell in the shower. If the people above can walk through life, with all they’ve had to deal with so can I.

Fish

Links

Maybe some of my conservative buddies will not vote for Bush now.

http://www.showmenews.com/2004/May/20040523Comm002.asp

Some nice catfish caught by El Grande - ex cat 4 Extraordinaire

55 lb blue

35 lb flathead

Yes sir, the miraculous has taken place, The Dude not only finished a Cat 1,2,3 race but placed as well. I opted to stay home as the mushrooms were in full swing. The car was packed at 10:00 pm with race gear, I was good to go, but then the phone rang. It was none other than a boisterous El Grande on the other end. Ten pounds of mushrooms had been found I found about 35 of those little beggars Sunday afternoon. I took them home, cleaned them, rolled them in a flour mix, slathered the big black stove top with butter and sizzled them to perfection.

Butthead and I rode with The Dude last night and in honor of his finishing and placing we declared the day "The Dudes Day" and I temporarily lifted the "Erik can’t talk about bike racing" moratorium for one week. After next Monday it’s back to shut the fuck up for old Meatdork.

I received the following from my good man Darryl Shockley, who now resides in Denver.

This from Joe Bechtold – him and my brother did a Guthrie many years ago. Joe bonked bad and had only a few pennies on him, well enough to buy a loaf of wonder bread at the Pierpont store. Oh what a site that must have been. Not one crumb left for the rats.

Butthead didn’t think it through when he bought his new home on top of anger holler, just up the road from El Grande, a little left of knuckle junction. This neighborship could get morbidly interesting in a hurry. Here’s some of the email that was flying around.

Ahh – back to the dude. His laces were flowing like the wings of Achilles’, he choose his weapon wisely, the magical brush of Valhalla was used to tease his golden curls and he reminisced of the 89er. DUUUUUUUDDEEEE!!!

No racing for me till’ the tour of St Louis. All the other races are too far away or have anti-fat boy hills. The weekend is shaping up fine. Early morning rides, followed by the mellow sound of a chainsaw, bbque with Chief Greenstone and maybe some more mushrooms.

            Show Pony and I were sitting next to Josh and Julie Carter while watching the races at the Tillis Park criterium. Show Pony had handed my ass to me in a two up sprint in the master’s race earlier that day. We had gotten away after a prime lap and worked well together for a one/two punch in the master’s race. I attacked him with a half lap to go but he was on me. Show Pony has a damned good sprint, so losing to him doesn’t hurt too badly. My team mates JimmyMc and Jeff Chattin had worked hard for me and I was sorry I didn’t get them the win.

Julie Carter was busy helping her daughter with a coloring book and doing her best to ignore Show Pony’s pornographic dialog as we sat in the sun. Her husband, Josh Carter was talking about racing in the South West while issuing parental orders to the other kids behind him. Josh Carter is a regional bad ass who just got back from some serious racing in the south west. I could tell he had dodged the mid-west cold and the depressingly grey short days of winter by his tan. By and by the topic of Arjuna Flenner entered the conversation. Josh sat up straight and said, “Arjuna will not win today”. The competitive energy arose in me making me nervous and quiet. Show Pony said something to the effect of Arjuna being in really good shape this year. Josh sat straighter and sternly said “Arjuna will not win today, I guarantee it.” The way he said it made me feel like one of the kids behind him. I looked at him and said “really?” Show Pony diverted the conversation by mingling in some more sleaze talk. It was too hot in the sun so I moved to some shade. Too much competition, too much heat, too much aggression for me. Time to cool it down in the shade. I’ve no doubt part of Josh Carter’s bad assness comes from his cocky attitude but hearing him prematurely nailing Arj to the cross of lactic pain pissed me off, at first.  I doubt Josh knows me as I quit right about the time he was coming on the scene, so he probably didn’t know I am Arj’s teammate. Reflection and time are wonderful things. Many a historical moment has approached real truth after marinating in this mixture. My knee jerk reaction was telling me this guy didn’t respect Arj or his racing ability, but that shit wasn’t the truth. He respected him enough to plan on killing Arj’s winning streak and he had at least six other pipe hitting Long John boys to back it up. The course was flat with no sharp corners. A breakaway is what a guy like Arj would need to win today and it was highly unlikely.

About 60 of us lined up. I got right behind the Long John guys on the front row. Arj and I knew they would start sending guys off the front from the gun and we were right. Scream goes the whistle and in my clip goes my foot. Not right away but after four tries. Oh no, that damned foot that goes in silky smooth on most every training ride just can’t seem to hit the clip when it counts. Sure enough a Long John guy and one other racer go off the front. The rest of the Fish Stick boys made a wall at the front. The break builds about a half a lap before Big Shark moves to the front and pulls them in. I’m finally towards the front of the pack. This course caters losing places quickly and slamming doors in your face when you try to take them back. Arjuna makes a couple of moves to get in breaks. Long John’s didn't look too interested in having him in a break and Arj was not too interested in working in a break with two or more of them. I managed to launch a couple of attacks, one with local rider Beef Cake’s John Kersha, but the pack wasn't going to let anything go up the road. Local hero Butthead pulled in some breaks and showed some of his Cyclocross skills by riding off the course a few times.

With about three laps to go a prime was called and I attacked. It was a good launch and since Arj was at the front any way, I figured if I didn’t get it, he could hop a wheel and get it himself. We didn’t count on Josh Carter being there. Josh got the prime, easily. But the moments after were extremely interesting. There was myself, Arj and Josh Carter off the front with 3 laps to go. We had as big of a gap as any one had all day. I took a pull and went behind the two. I was really punched after the prime and the pull I took only added to the pain. I got gapped a bit off the two. The pack was coming hard so I thought I’d offer myself as a sacrifice. Sometimes the pack will satisfy its hunger if they can just catch one of the transgressors. Besides, I was punched. The pack caught me and Josh Carter refused to work with Arj so they too were consumed.

I fell about midway through the pack, a bad place to be with three laps to go. All the field sprinter players began to move to the front. Joe Hill was absolutely incredible to watch slither through the pack, a real work of art. I hadn’t seen him the whole race and suspected he had dropped out. With about one and half laps to go the Fish Stick squad moved to the front and formed a sprint train for their man Josh Carter. This was a treat to watch. This sprint train is hard to pull off and requires some strong riders to stay at the front, pulling as hard as they can till they tire. Then it’s the next guys turn to crank him self to death. The guy who told me Arj would not win won. He beat Joe Hill in the sprint, quite an impressive feat. Show Pony placed 9^th. I finished right ahead of Butthead. I made it a point to do so.

Running the race through the marinating process again makes me wonder why so many people in the pack complacently waited for the Long John attacks. When you’re getting your teeth kicked out of your back sides you may as well start swinging. Arj and I were only two but when we could, we took the race to the Long John boys. This Long John’s team is going to be a real dominating factor in this years races and they don’t mind putting you on the ropes and slapping you silly while taking your lunch money. Big Shark has some real talent and needs to quit being a team that merely chases breaks down so Joe Hill can win the sprint. I only saw one attack by Big Shark all day and that was by Show Pony.

Arj told me the following while sitting at a Casey’s on Sunday’s death march. “Non aggressive racing isn’t much fun”. Right you are my boy.

Other local rider’s results;

Pam Hinton took 8^th in the women’s race and finished the master’s race.

Mighty Joe Young won the juniors race and finished the Cat 4/5 race.

Other pics;

Cat1,2,3 pack

Cat1,2,3 pack

Cat1,2,3 pack

Dog Shitting in the park

Page one of the new Cycling Men of St Louis Chippendales Calendar featuring Frosted Flakes

Small Breakaway Cat 1,2,3

Women’s Race

Women’s Race

At the end of a long training ride last Saturday we hit the base of Father Guthrie hill. I knew I was in trouble long before the bottom. Rolling out of Mokane I thought I was going to spill my biscuits and Buttheads incessant chatter made matters no better. There was a bigger storm on the loom, Father Guthrie. Father Guthrie had a little sermon in mind for me today, minced with suffering and angst. That hill has destroyed many a cyclist. One year the late great Dan Bockenstedt (he was killed a few years back when a car struck him on a training ride) was in the lead of the Apple Cup stage race. He was involved in a small crash about half way up the climb and ended up in the ditch, totally out of the race, another victim to the Father of hills in our area. I almost saw an Apple Cup victory disappear one year when Hijo Dress gave me a shellacking during the crux of the climb. Chris Petty pulled me to within a few seconds of Hiho before the sprint.. Game wardens were waiting at the top one day with tranquilizer guns after being tipped off about a wounded animal in the area only to find out it was Canonball making inhuman sounds up the hill

The hill is probably not the steepest in the area but its proximity and length factor it as the toughest local paved road. I only say “paved road” because I did the gravel grumble last year.  Some of those gravel roads in South Boone County will make you want to go back to the bottle and have your buddies take turns kicking you in the nads. If you do Guthrie the correct way, you end up with around 35 miles of rolling hills and exposed winds in your legs prior to the base of the climb. To compound matters, there’s a sprint sign 4 miles away from Father Guthrie’s peak with a couple more taxing hills acting as a last bastion prior to coveted sprint sign of Ashland. This particular day we had done an extended Guthrie and had around 60 miles under our belts prior to my demise. Arjuna began the dance with his patented Arj stomp and quickly put 20+ feet on our small group of five. He’s was gone, nobody’s going to catch him. He has no sins and Father Guthrie has nothing but praise for this young man. He’s saving the preaching for me. I begin following Show Pony and Butthead up the hill. About a third of the way up, the scolding begins. Too much beer, too much coffee, too much pork, too much giving Butthead shit. Misery does love company. It’s true. I still had Green Beans and JimmyMc with me. While on the accent to hell I vaguely remember Green Beans saying something like, “really, I know I’m not pregnant”. Green beans was having his own little personal sermon going on with the Father. JimmieMc also fell off the confessional pace. I let out a weak, “that’s it I’m done”. It’s all Butthead needed. With Showpony in tow, they left me with the full 190 lbs of my sins while being berated for my transgressions. I made an effort at the top to bridge back up but the little Butthead had some payback in mind. We had mercifully agreed to ride the flatter route of Rangeline back to Columbia. Butthead and Showpony were waiting for me at the junction. They had their water bottles up in the air. When I was within earshot they both dropped their bottles and said, “Oh excuse me. I think I dropped something”.  I can appreciate a good joke. Funny stuff at the expense of the fat man. I can also appreciate some good old fashun’ pay back. It’ll come.

The bluegrass band I play with performed at Mojo’s Friday. We had a blast. Arj and his wife, JimmyMc, Dale and Joe Turner came down to watch. A big thanks to them for coming and I hope they had a good time. As it rained most of the day Sunday I went to the Hartsburg Hitching post Sunday and played at the jam from 2:00 till 4:00. There was an incredible fiddle player there. I love the sound of a banjo backing up a fiddle so I was in heaven.

Hee Haw – the Tour of Redlands is on and local rider Pam Hinton is sitting in 63^rd place after the prologue. Pam’s got some work cut out for her on this race. She’s playing with the big girls now, but she’s also spent a proper winter in Columbia cold forging. That’s right, freezing snot sickles, frozen toes, fixed gear and good old fashion suffering has made her born again hard. The impressive stuff about Pam is her quick rise to her current level of fitness and her mastering of bicycle skills. It was less than a year ago when I noticed she had some minor hyperpronation. The mountain bike shoes attached to her road bike weren’t helping much either. Now she’s purring like 60 on the bike and hitting on all eight. While watching her race at the ICCC criterium, I hollered at her to give the pack a little something. She quickly put 100 ft on the pack during the climb. It’ll be interesting to see what unfolds in the next few days and to see what Pam can do in the mountains.

The float trip was a wash out but we had a good time anyway. My son, his friend and I drove to Eminence Missouri Monday morning and messed around at Rocky Falls park. We then hiked about five miles on the Ozark trail. We found a cool shut-in area complete with an abandoned grist mill. I hiked on while they stayed and swam. The Ozark trail runs about 550 miles in length across some of the most beautiful land in the United States. Old oaks, huge limestone bluffs and wild quartz rocks made me realize how small and insignificant I really am. We got back, made camp on the Jacks Fork river, ate some food and went to bed by 8:00. Camping in the cold makes you really appreciate the luxuries of home. When the sun slips behind the horizon, I want to be home. My loneliest feelings have been on the road, coming or going to some bike race, late at night or early in the morning. Driving through small towns and seeing lights in the windows and knowing those people are home and I am not, can really get to me. I’m no Jack Kerouac.

We woke up to clouds and cold rain. Since the forecasters had predicted no rain, I left the rain gear at home. How many times have I been burned by listening to those guys? We ate breakfast in a small dive and headed back home to partly sunny skies and warmer temperatures. I dropped the boys off at the movie theatre and enjoyed a fixed gear McDiddle loop followed by a hearty helping of pain at the gym.

On another note, Butthead took some exception to my last dribbling. He doesn’t like to be grouped with the “typical cyclist” (if there is such a thing). So, you all listen here. Butthead is not a typical cyclist from this moment on. Buttscurvy , click your heels together three times, repeat “I love pork” and get your shit dropped. You’re different, there’s no question about that.

The rides last weekend were splendid. Plenty of miles, headwinds, bonking, dropage, grinding, sprinting, monkey shines, suffering, angst, anguish, self reflection and even a little bit of vomit tickling the back of my throat. Man, there ain’t a massage parlor north of town that can offer all that.

Local Pro rider Jason Ozenberger is looking for a team, after the pro team JaJo-Santa Catarina called it quits before the gun went off.  I imagine he’s pretty bummed. I know he trained pretty hard for this, I hope he won’t let this bad news get the best of him and let his shape go to hell. Arjuna, JimmyMC (Old Filthiez, the man in the bat suit, grandes, Jimmiez, skeletor – love can only be measured by how many nick names a person has, Jim is well loved) and I tried to talk him into coming to the Columbia Bike Club Race Team. I don’t think he’ll bite and I can’t blame him. He has no job, no bike, no start money and no clothing. He’s been offered bikes to ride, as a loan, but he’s skeptical of wrecking someone else’s bike. I would be also. He’s probably hoping at the least, for a St Louis team to pick him up and give him a bike and the other basic things racers need these days to race.

When did all this change I wonder? I know I’m old and a bit out of touch with racing but “back in my day (old man voice here)” only magazine cover pros got all these goods. We were lucky to find a bike shop that’d let us run a tab for our stuff. When I raced for the Cyclones, we paid team dues, bought our bikes at cost, paid for our clothing and most of our race fees. We were no slouches on the bike. Jim Pollack went pro and raced track in Europe, beating people like Sean Kelly in match races. Lloyd Tabing went pro and won events like the Moline Crit often. Chris Petty raced in Europe for the US national team and won races like the Moline criterium with a wardrobe change half way through the race. No shit. One year he didn’t like the way his shoes fit and he had his old man hand him up a spare pair half way through the race. He changed his shoes and won the damned race. Unbelievable! Even other great riders I knew received no such sponsorship. Hiho Dress (yea – that’s Lance riding beside him), from Nebraska, would take half his prize money and give it back to the shop in order to keep his tab down. Hijo was a hard man to beat. I didn’t get my first free bike until 1990, and I wasn’t any good then.

So who in the hell can blame Jason Ozenberger, Tracy Smith, Josh Johnson, Johnathan Kersha, Micah Moran, Pam Hinton, Eric Meatzdorf (the dude) and others to head east for some of the St Louis gravy? I would. It’s great that cycling has came around so riders who aspire to be a Cat II + rider can worry more about training than bouncing a check or not eating this month because they just forked out $2000 plus for the latest rhymes with linguini bicycle.  And I must be honest; I’m a bit jealous that this stuff wasn’t around when I was at my peak. Don’t get me wrong, people helped me through my racing days and I have not forgotten them. Steve Fisher of tryathletics, Jeff Chattin, Tom Brinker of CycleX, parents, my bro Aaro and other friends were indispensable and I’ll always owe them.

My wife was my best sponsor when I was pro bound. This women let me trade in my full time job for bike racing and it made things tight. I still remember the looks we’d give each other after balancing the check book and having only $30 for the rest of the month. Once I had just taken 7^th place in a road race at SuperWeek and was stoked. I only placed that day cause some HUGE guy in the pack was going to kick my ass for some bone headed move I made. It was one of those flight or get your ass kicked calls. I’m fairly confident I made the right call. I phoned my wife after the race and bragged on my placing. She matter-of-factly asked, “how come you didn’t win?” Man that pissed me off.  But time makes one wiser and I now understand why she said what she did. When you have $30 in the checking account, you’d better be real hungry to win cause’ mama ain’t cooking no dinner for no 7^th place racer.

I no longer have the monetary concerns of old. I make a good wage and can support my racing habit. I don’t want to go pro and I plan to only race in the state. I’m glad I’m not eating Mac’n Cheese every day because it only cost 33 pennies a box. I don’t miss the hungry days, though I think it made me a better bike racer. I hope the best for all the local riders who race under the colors of St Louis – I just hope they remember their Boone County roots and keep hungry.

I rode by myself this afternoon. I need to ride alone more. You really get some clear thinking done. It was a real easy ride and I found an empty porn DVD cover on the side of the road. Springs here! I’m riding with the one they call El Grande tomorrow. Death marches are in the weekend plans and a camping/float trip with my sun on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday are giving me reasons to be real happy. Probably no posting till after I’m back.

Rubber side down, shiny side up

Ebby Norman – Hungry bike racer who won the Burlington Road Race one year. We all ate well that night.

Fish

The clouds broke, the rain stopped and there was joy. I hit the fixed gear and did a big tree loop. On the way out I hooked up with Aaron Bolton, aka Commander Clink (for a free style helmet he wears every once in awhile). About 5 miles out of town a car pulls besides us and a pretty thing in the passenger’s seat informs us that we can’t ride side by side on this rural road. Funny thing was, we were in single file. We heard the car coming and lined it up. I immediately recognized this car as the same one that gave us hell a couple of weeks ago. Same girl, same guy, same car and the same old shit.

            El Grande and I were doing the same loop when this car passed us. The same girl was leaning out of the passenger’s side screaming at us over the top of the roof that we had to ride single file. El Grande ain’t a real passionate guy and lets loose a “Fuck You” and we headed on Down the road, bout’ a mile or two, and there they are, waiting by the side of the road. The same assholes that couldn’t spend an extra 10 seconds to get around us suddenly have free time to unleash some fury our way. Sweet. The dude is frothy, due to his princess’s honor being insulted. He wants to kick our asses. I’m no stranger to fighting and know well enough that it doesn’t take a lot to really hurt a person and get hurt in the process. Fisticuffs won’t happen. We roll on and so do they, right beside us. The girl is chewing us a new one. Fingers flying, lips flapping and a whole lot of hate is coming out of that car. I begin reading his license plate back to him and away he goes. It’s a good way to get rid of jerks in a car. I need to print the following out and hand it out to jerks in cars. Little Barney Fife and his girl friend need to read it.

Riding to right, required for bicycles and motorized bicycles.

307.190. Every person operating a bicycle or motorized bicycle at less than the posted speed or slower than the flow of traffic upon a street or highway shall ride as near to the right side of the roadway as safe, exercising due care when passing a standing vehicle or one proceeding in the same direction, except when making a left turn, when avoiding hazardous conditions, when the lane is too narrow to share with another vehicle, or when on a one-way street. Bicyclists may ride abreast when not impeding other vehicles.

(L. 1977 H.B. 79 § 5, A.L. 1980 H.B. 995 & 1051, A.L. 1995 S.B. 471)

Any way, while riding on the big tree loop, watch out for a small black car (Honda prelude I think) with a little blonde venomous sweetie riding shotgun.

            We finished up our ride and I threw on some chicken wings on the grill and headed off to lift some weights. Bought a six pack of Mickey’s big mouths and had a fine St Patty’s day meal.  

I rode with local legend Butthead last night for about two hours. Tracy “Show Pony” Smith was supposed to come, but it was too cold for him for his pretty little ass. Arjuna Flenner got food poising and was also a no show. It was cold and grey out and my legs were still a bit tired from the weekends racing. After 15 minutes of me ribbing him how I dropped him last week, we talked about those life changing moments. You know which ones I’m talking about. Those times when you got behind the wheel of a car and shouldn’t have, that time you almost stepped on the road and almost got hit by a car, the girl you let get away. Those “what ifs” will haunt the hell out of you and drive you mad thinking about it but you need to remember this shit and, as Don Quixote said, “keep it on your shoulder as life’s constant companion”.

Frank Koch has stepped up to bat as the new Columbia Bike Club Race team president. He’s one helluva good guy and I think he’ll do a great job. CBC lives on the thread of a few individuals at times and can be a real cross to bear. I need to make a mental note to help Frank whenever I can. As my good friend Mac Rouse says; “Many hands makes light work”.

Local rider Jason Ozenberger got some bad news today. The pro team he signed up with folded. There’ll be no early Christmas for him. I’m trying to get him to race for us this year. Arjuna and I could use one more strong man. Jason is as fit as anyone in the state at this time. Arjuna and I could sharpen his sword with a fine cutting edge. A team of 2 good Cat I,II riders is ok, but a team of three or four really kicks ass. It’s the right number. Too many riders really screw it up. I remember being with the St Louis Cyclones. We really had only 5 or 6 guys who could get the job on any given day, but a shit load of Cat 3 riders. They were good enough guys, but when you’re a broke dick bike racer without a job, you really don’t feel like splitting $200 20 ways. It sucked to tell people who thought they really worked hard for you that you were not paying them out.

It’s raining out so I think I’ll hit the gym tonight and crush my legs to a pulp. There’s been some discussion of the benefits of lifting and racing performance on stlbiking.com. I’ve not a PHD to back my assertions, but I really think massive leg weights have aided my sprint. I’m certain there are ways to do the same thing on the bike, but this way is getting me results so I’m sticking with it. Even if the lifting isn’t doing what I think it is, my body feels better over all and especially my back.

Man I slept great last night. After the racing on Saturday and a 4 hour ride on Sunday, it felt like someone beat me with a board and then kicked me in the jewels for good measure. Floating around in a canoe Sunday after the group ride and knocking back a few coldun’s probably didn’t do much for the recovery mechanisms, but what the hell.

I promised my son we’d go fishing soon, so we went. I know a spot at Finger Lakes where I’ve caught crappie before so we gave it a try. I had a few hits and caught a couple of small bass. Bass is no good to eat so they went back. For those of you who have never had Crappie, you’re missing out. The best way is fried of course. Everything tastes better fried. An old shoe would be a culinary delight given enough batter and grease. It’s getting close to Morel season here, so I need to have a couple of pounds of crappie in the freezer to eat with those delightful little buggers.

The water was remarkably clear and I could see the bottom of the lake most of the time. It ran about 15 foot at the deepest. That’s not real deep for a strip pit lake and it surprised me a bit. Some of the old mining pits here are rumored to be over 100 ft deep. Peabody Coal Company may have upset John Prine and tore the hell out of Paradise Kentucky but they left us a mini oasis, Bass, Blue Gill, Perch, Crappie, Catfish and some of the hands down best mountain biking in the USA.

Lots of sun and clear water made for some pretty bad fishing. My son and I casually talked about school and summer plans. We’re sending him to a two week camp in Canada this year. They’ll spend 2 weeks in canoes floating white water and camping. My son is a laid back kid and shows little emotion. I’m much more nervous for him than he is, but it’ll be a good experience for all. We pulled over to an island in the middle of the pit and sat on a steep bank. He got his feet wet while trying to get a root beer out of the cooler. I worry about being a parent these days. I had a friend with some bad news stay with me last weekend. His 16 year old kid was in the back of car when some asshole in a truck pulled some road rage crap. I won’t go into the details but needless to say his kid suffered head injuries. It looks like his kid is going to pull through, with minor repercussions from his injuries. On another note, two local kids were caught for the murder of a local sports writer that happened over two years ago. They must have been about 17 years old at the time of the murder. By all accounts, were fairly well to do normal kids. Looking into the clear lake reminded me of a friend who is no longer with me. He had a brother drown in a lake close to here about 30 years ago. That must have been a pretty traumatic experience for all involved. This same friend hung himself in his house about 3 years ago. His parents have lost two kids and only have a daughter now and I lost a friend. Jennifer Flenner got ran off the road on Sunday’s bike ride by a car and now has some fractures in her hip.

            I want control. I want a guarantee that my son will live a rich life and float in a canoe all day with sun and a casual fish caught and released. I want him to see the goodness in this world and be free of bad choices that could tear him apart. I want for him and myself what we can’t have - security. The truth is, there are no guarantees in life and I had better damned well learn to enjoy the moment floating around in a canoe and not catching fish cause that’s all we may ever have. I had better find some enjoyment in going to work and doing the dishes when I get home. I need to enjoy the views on my bike, keep my friends close and open up a bit. I may not have another chance.

Fish