Monday, August 29, 2005
Every once in a while I'll drop some hard earned cash on a concert and it pays off. The $50 spent on the original Black Sabbath 7 years agowill probably remain the best $50 ever spent. Geezer Butler was on fire, Tony Iommi was crisp and even Ozzy was animated as ever.
The White Stripes show this weekend was by far the best show I've seen in years and I never expected it. I'd seen them years ago in a small venue and was midly impressed. Any two people with that much sound deserve to be appreciated, but I left thinking they were possibly just a good studio band.
However, the White Stripes show this weekend was mind blowing. On stage were keyboards and piano, marimba, an array of guitars and microphones allover the stage, (in red, black and white, natch). Jack White was absolutely stunning. His guitar solos were truly face melting and his vocals exuded desperation. He played like was pissed off and had something to prove, fearless could describe it best. It was properly loud and fast, with the occasional mellow tune. I haven't seen so many people go nuts in an audience like that in years.
Also a huge thanks to yellow t-shirt guy in the front row left side. That was an amazing display of step aerobics/hippie squirm/air guitar/thrash dance. We hope you got one of the Polaroids Jack was throwing into the audience.
Jack White, you rule. Thanks for making that $45 ticket well worth it. I take back anything back I said about you two and am glad to see success hasn't watered down your music or hampered your ability to kick ass.
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On Thursday, we rode trails right out their office doors and got those airplane miles shaken off our butts. The singletrack was loopy and tight, it's no wonder this magazine remains top quality and true to life. Back at Mo and Thanita's house, we had home cooked Thai food and played pinball. Later, we ventured into Pitt to Guerrero's house for some beers. We got totally lost coming home because Pitt is a complete clusterf&^k to find your way around (thanks for the fantastic directions Thanita). But still a quality town.
Friday was another big ride day in Pitt, as we rode Frick park located right in the city. After almost 2 hours of singletrack, the ride turned into a pub crawl. The 40 riders rolled out as the sun was getting low in the sky. Not the kind of pub crawl where you go from bar to bar, but the kind where you zigzag around and bypass about 3 bars before stopping. The best way to get around a foreign city is by bike being led by locals. We eventually split into 2 groups and our dirty dozen made some nice bike piles along the way. Thanks a ton to local guy Jason ____? for keeping us inline for the next bar and knowing exactly which bar would still be open for last call. Props to the Columbus, Ohio crew for showing up in numbers. You guys rock.
Saturday was the 3 hour drive to State College for the actual SSWC event. The pre-party was in a downtown bar and it was the first time you got to see everybody. From the Brits, to famous people like Gary Fisher, Keith Bontrager, Travis Brown and Marla Streb, to hot dutch girls, to slimebag nobodies like us.
The race isn't really a race, it's more like a big group ride where the people in front probably try to beat eachother, while everyone else is JRA for the fun of it. After last years DFL performance, I decided I was going to actually go out and ride this thing. Starting DFL with Dirt Rag and Mpls crew, I started to work my way ahead of the people who were walking this fine rocky mess. That's my thing, technical singletrack, and I wasn't about to walk a kickass 25 miles of it.
The 1st 7 miles just about murdered me. My legs and arms were already shaky, I hadn't sat in the saddle for more than 30 seconds at a time and I'd partaken in some pre-ride bevies that were altering my flow. As the race promoters said it best, "we have little dirt gardens in between all the rock". We hit a dirt road and I've never been so happy to ride doubletrack in my life. I told some guy "I could ride this for 5 miles", he replied "you got it". The doubletrack gradually got steeper and steeper, until riders were walking. Screw that, I'm riding, especially when I spot Big Jonny's ugly yellow-ness ahead of me. I buzz his rear tire and roll by. His Phil Ligget impressions got me almost to the top, but I was into that uncomfortable zone where your body doesn't like to be, so I walked for about a minute or two.
More rocks and more dirt roads until I finally ran into another Mpls brother, Hollywood Henderson, with 6 miles left. This included the sketchy downhills everybody was talking about and the reason I'd ridden up those damned fireroads to get to. After scoring a beer and then another homebrew that we shared, we rolled along. We finally hit the crazy stuff, and it was really worth it. Definitely the kind of trail where one little mistake could result in full-mouth dentures. As H-wood and I sang a heavy metal duet, my hydraulic brake line blew a leak. My fault, I crashed hard and felt my head bounce off a rock at about mile 10 and that's when I damaged the brake line. I was able to jump off my bike before ramming into his rear wheel and the song was over. So was my ride. Walking down a downhill is not an easy thing for me to do, but it was better than suicide with one brake.
I met H-wood at the end and shared a smile with the legendary Jacquie Phelan, who still had those damned black tights with polka dots. How old are those things? It was pretty cool to ride with all these people that have been in the business since I was a little tweaker.
The winner of the actual bike race did not directly result in a SSWC champion. It merely qualified the top few men and women to a go-kart race. There were also a few randomly chosen "racers" from the field to go-kart for the title of world champion. Why? To take the emphasis off racing and put it on having fun. Nothing wrong with heart rate monitors and leg shaving, but that's what NORBA races are for. SSWC is for the people that simply love to ride singlespeed bikes. Having some dude show up at the last minute, crush everybody, then leave before the partying begins doesn't make for any dude I'd want to hang out with.
So the go-kart race was really fun to watch. The multiple heats included spin-outs and lots of crashes. The lead changed a bunch of times in each race and there were some obviously faster cars. But the skill level of Marla Streb was also obvious, as she gassed her way to her second SSWC tattoo. Local speedster "Buck" also revved his mohawk to a deserving win and his first tattoo, despite Big Jonny's brake check near the end of his lap. The go-kart thing was a fantastic idea.
Overall, the event was epic. Volunteers and organizers made it so easy for all of us to show up and have fun. Even the porta-toilets were clean. Course marshals were everywhere and very helpful, even though they didn't know how many miles it was to the finish. They had beers, food and directions when I needed them. Thanks to all of you.
The post-race awards ceremony was fairly lucrative. Again, not for the winners so much, but for random acts. One guy got his bike taken by another racer, so he won a custom bike. Rudy and Justin, you guys are my heros. They rode rode fix geared rigid cross-bikes through stuff most people couldn't do on a full suspension bike. Badass indeed! The faster Rudy received some sweet frameset. We gave away a frameset to the most helpful volunteer for the event, so we didn't disclude the people who sacrificed their riding day to help us all. Thanks to all the other sponsors who helped people walk away with something nice.
The derby was brought back to determine where the SSWC in 2006 was going to be held. Skip Bernet and I put the smackdown in 2 of 3 rounds before the skid contest ensued. So guess who gets to decide where it's going to be next year? We do. The skid contest was aided by a bucket of deep fryer grease, a downhill and fireworks. They must've skidded 300+ feet. It took about 45 minutes for a cop to finally show up, and the look on his face was pure humor. He almost didn't know what to arrest people for. I don't think anybody went to jail though, which is good.
So insert a bunch of crashes into these paragraphs, along with loads of yummy local beer and less than the normal amount of sleep. Then you'll know why my body still hurts 3 days later. Hope you can make it next year, wherever it'll be...
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