One kilowatt of pooooooweeeeeerrrr!!!!!

So, this summer has been a complete wash when it comes to racing. The last race I did was in early June. Somewhere in there, my life got derailed and it's taken me till just a couple of weeks ago to get back on track.

I had all the drama of getting back with my girlie, Suzanne and then my knee blew up (read bursitis) and then I got hit by a car.

Finally after 6-7 weeks of tedious recovery from my accident, I am finally back on track. Training is going well, and I am beginning to feel like a bike racer again.

Even though my coach will probably give me an earful for this, I did my first track race since June last Sunday. It was the second of a new winter series that Shaun Wallace is experimenting with. Just a low key winter monthly race series. It's run very much like a tuesday night.

I think I needed to get rid of some energy. This is the first time in like 15 years or so that I have taken this much time off of racing and I was getting pretty darn antsy.

So at the behest of some fellow trackies, I lugged my fat arse down to the track and gave it a go.

Clearly my base fitness is just not there. I can maintain 200-250 for extended periods (for the track) but much above that and I go completely anaerobic. I figured that my peak power would be gone too. I saw 800w in one race and figured that I was my peak (it used to be 1100-1200w).
But a funny thing happened in the second race (the Triple sprint), I made a move after the bell rang and got 4th in the sprint. Only one point, but that's better than I thought I could do.
The real shocker was my max power: 1092w! WOW! It's still there. How the heck did that happen?

Whatever it is, I'll take it. Of course I was pretty spent after that effort and it was a little painful getting back on the pack after that. But it felt better than I though it would.

I don't plan on doing any significant racing till the next racing season. It's somewhat counter productive in light of the training that my coach Vince has planned. I know that my body responds well to Vince's training plan. His coaching methods are based heavily on Arnie Baker's teachings. They focus on neuromuscular recruitment and on the bike strength training. In the past when I have stuck to the program, I develop HUGE power.

Now that my life has begun to stabilize, I can stick to the program and follow it through. I am pretty excited to see what I can get out of this. I still have the peak power, I know I have the tactical/strategic prowess and the bike handling skills are sharper than ever. The only thing I have been missing is the base fitness.

The weight has been a persistent and stubborn problem for me but the weird thing is that for track racing I have been able to turn this problem into an advantage. People underestimate me and assume I am slow (currently, that isn't inaccurate) and the also don't see me as being effective on the bike. The extra weight also means I have a lot more momentum when fighting for position. I have had people come up next to me and try and force me off a wheel only to find that very difficult. I have the fast guys at the track to thank for that. You can stick your helmet in my armpit and you are still not going to move me.

People are sometimes surprised to see how fast I can go when I am fit, even if I am fat. In some races, they completely discount me.

I can't wait till I get my fitness back online and can start banging bars again.

New fork for the SV

Considering that I am fundamentally a mechanical engineer first and a controls/software/electrical it was probably inevitable that it wouldn't be too long before I would feel the need to modify my moto.

I don't think that I HAD to or NEEDED to change the bike, I WANTED to. So there! to all you folks that will say "Gee, Odie! If it ain't broke, why are you fixing it?"

What I am doing is a very common upgrade on this moto: retrofitting a front fork off of a Suzuki GSXR 600/750. The advantages are mainly the better shocks and the bigger brakes. In my opinion, bigger brakes are always a good thing.

So I got on eBay and started gathering parts and here is the result:

I have everything I need. The wheel is on it's way and once it's shows up, the forks will be complete.

I just need a place to do this. I hate not having a garage.

Leathers

If you have been keeping up with my block, you probably read about how friends have been encouraging me to get on the track in light of my need for speed.

Since getting on the track requires full leathers, I went out and found me a set. I must say that I have been pretty fortunately in a lot of my purchases. I've been able to snag pretty good deals on a lot of the high $ items required to ride. Getting a full set of leathers has been no exception.

I went to BuyMoto: A local mail order/hole in the wall parts place. They just happend to have a set of Alpine stars leathers that someone special ordered but it didn't fit them. Unfortunately the guys at BuyMoto forget to tell the customer that he couldn't return it if it didn't fit. Sucks for BuyMoto but it was good for me. They sold me the leathers for about half price.

Yehaw!!!!

I only have had one real opportunity to use them: my first canyon ride, which will be detailed in a future posting.

Stay tuned kiddies.

On the road again

So about 3 weeks ago (I know, I've been lax in posting updates) I finally got my cast off.

I got to the Keiser Hospital to get my cast off and I just could not wait to get it off. I had tried to ride my bike with the cast and it was alright, but I figured it would be so much better to ride with the cast off.

Once they cut the cast off, I realized that the pinky and ring finger of my right hand
were pretty much useless.
It took me about an hour to get my ring finger to move at all. Don't even get me started about my pinky.

When I got home, I tried to ride. But since I hadn't used my right hand without a cast since the accident, I didn't realize how beat up my hand was. My palm was very tender, and my wrist was quite painful. The bumps really hurt my wrist. I rode about 15min before I realize that my recovery was far from over and I was just entering the lastest stage, namely getting my hand working again.

I couldn't ride my bike but it turns out that I could ride my moto. Funny enough, riding my moto actually helped my hand. The suspension sheild my wrist from the shocks and all the twisting and grabbing the brake exercised my hand and allowed it to strengthen.

After three weeks. My ring finger has about 90% range of motion and my pinky still is only about 60%, but my wrist is almost back to 100%. So, I'm happy to say that riding is no longer an issue. It has taken me a couple of weeks till I didn't feel like crap for most of the ride. I'm beginning to finally feel reasonable strong on the bike.

I'm not saying I'm in shape. Far from it. But I don't feel like I've been off the bike for a month.

I rode for a good 3-3.5 hours on Saturday. Pretty easy, but it still left me very tired and sore the rest of Saturday. Yes, I still have a long way to go.

I rode around on the track for about half an hour on Sunday and I felt pretty darn good. The one thing that has really motivated me to get busy training is that Master's National Track Championships will be in San Jose.

FINALLY, Master Natz that don't require me to get used to a complete new state, track, time zone and require a $1000 weekend. I started racing track at Hellyer and got my first upgrade there. It's pretty much the same track as San Diego and the bay area are my old stomping grounds.

I'm pretty stoked to compete there, regardless if I'm really fit or not. I've got 10 months to get in shape and get my speed on. So San Diego trackies, watch out.

Physics is a bitch! AKA Odie and a car collide,

They say if you ride long enough you will eventually get hit by a car. Apparently my number was up. I started riding in the early 80's in my hometown of Brandon, Fl. About one or two years into riding (roughly 1983-85) I got broadsided by a van, but only managed to have a bruised thigh and a bent crank arm.

The intervening 20 odd years have been very uneventful. I have crashed less times than I can count on one hand and can thank my lucky stars. However Tuesday, Oct 16th wasn't so lucky.

At about 4:45, I was heading south on San Diego Ave at the end of a pretty nice ride right past the Thomas Jefferson School of Law and fairly abruptly, a blue late model Jaguar pulled out of one of the staff parking lots and stopped to check for traffic. Unfortunately the driver stopped in the middle of bike lane, right smack dab in my path. I had all of a fraction of a second to react, which as it turns out is only long enough to be able to identify the orientation of the car, the fact that it was stationery and it was as late model, metallic indigo blue Jaguar before my bike collided with said car.
The next image I saw was all black. I didn't lose consciousness, that blackness was due to the fact that my face was right up against the asphalt on the far side of that Jaguar.

I picked my face up off the pavement and let out a prolonged load groan as the pain of a full on face plant alerted my body that sudden stops are quite painful.

As I picked my face off the pavement I noticed something in my mouth. I spat it out (along with some blood) and low and behold it was a part of a tooth.

There were a lot of by standers around and they immediately called 911 and emergency services were on scene very quickly.

I finally picked my self up and turned around to check myself out. The first thing I noticed (other than the fact my mouth was all torn up) was my Tarmac S-Works was done! The impact had broken the headtube clean off the rest of the bike.Once I saw that I started checking my self out. I knew I had broken a tooth, shoved my bottom teeth THROUGH my bottom lip and my right pinky was pointing the in wrong direction, but that seemed to be it. My legs were largely unscathed except for some scraps.

However, I was pretty sure I was in a certain amount of shock and didn't feel much pain. I knew the real pain and soreness would come late.

I had a bystander call Suzy, mainly since by bottom lip was making speaking just a little tricky.


Suzy showed up at the scene within a few minutes and when she got there she started to freak out. The SDPD deputy had to calm her down so she wouldn't loose it.

The EMTs showed up and took one look at the bike and assumed the worst. They had be on a backboard and a neck brace in no time.

After a short ride lated, I was at UCSD medical center ER and one of the most annoying nights in a long time started. Since they were assuming that I might have a spinal injury they had to keep my neck immobilized till some one could look at my X-rays and rule out spinal injury. That didn't happen till noon the next day.
Yep, that's they way I stayed till noon the next day.

Anyway, in the trauma ward they determined that my pinky was broken and a rib was fractured in addition to my lip being cut. They put my arm in a cast and sewed up my lip with 10 stitches.

In the ICU, my best friend Scott showed up with some snacks and a commonly available sedative...a fifth of Captain Morgan's. Both of them need that.

Once they had a chance to calm down, things kind of mellowed out and they stayed with me till the head nurse had to threaten calling security to leave.

As you might imagine, I didn't sleep much that night. In fact I think I only got about 2 hours worth. I looked like hell the next morning.

Next morning was when all the various little injuries made them selves apparent. Boy-howdy was I sore!!! My sternum and left shoulder had taken a huge hit as well as my face. My jaw and all my front teeth were VERY sore. I was pretty much on a puree diet for the rest of the week.

I was hopped up on Vicodin for about 5-6 days just so I could get around.

I'm a speed freak, yes I am.

Ok, so ya'll remember in my last post how I was getting nervous about my weird state of excessive confidence and insufficient skill with regard to the moto? Well, it's getting worse.

But don't ya'll worry...yet. Nothing bad has happened. However, I have to make a confession: I am a speed freak. Not the stay-up-all-night kind, AKA a tweaker. I mean, I love speed. I love making the world go by in as much of a blur as I can muster.

Some of you might think "duh! I could have told you that!". It's fairly common knowledge that I like to go fast. I routinely drive at 90mph+ and fairly often at 100mph+, but that's in a nice climate controlled Audi with multiple airbags and crumple zones with four big ol' meaty tires. It's pretty benign to drive 100-110mph in my A3.

But it's an entirely different thing on a motorcycle. It's just a little bit like going fast at ADT but WAAAAAAAAY more intense.

So, last night I was riding home down the 15 to the 163 at a fairly mundane 70-80mph and pretty much just keeping up with traffic. At some point, a guy on a sport bike passes me. Now, usually I don't care since I don't usually feel the need to keep up with people I don't know. But his bike was interesting, so I wanted to take another look.

Well, the thing is this guy was cooking. He was pretty adept and just didn't slow down: 90-100mph with out a break. The guy deftly slinked between cars with barely a thought.

As I was trying to catch up, I was getting held up by some inconvenient traffic. Once I got free of that, I opened up to catch up with the guy. At one point I was doing 110mph, maybe 115mph. Not really that fast and I only held it for about a half mile or so till traffic got too dense for my comfort.

But here's the thing: I got such a rush off that. I never say that. When I go REALLY fast I usually feel nervous. Not excited, or elated but nervous. This was different. I was high on that burst of speed. Intoxicated, spun. That's when it occurred to me that I am just a speed freak. It also confirmed the wisdom of my choice of my first moto. If I had one of those crazy fast liter bike, this might not have been such a benign experience. That little 650cc bike of mine can GO! I have a hard time imagining what a bike with twice the power would be like. Scares me to think about that.

BTW, I never caught up to that guy. He was gone like a shot! Maybe he was on a liter bike.

However, this experience has made the need to expand my skill somewhat more urgent. I need to get on the track and learn how to operate my bike at high speeds so at least I know what to do if things get sticky.

To that end, I have got myself some leathers. A nice two piece, full zip Alpine Stars track suit. Pictures are coming.

Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble

Well, in less than 4 months I have logged about 2,300 miles on my moto and I have to say that I have enjoyed pretty much every minute of it. I'm getting comfortable with the SV and I have really developed an affinity for the distinctive power delivery of 90degree V-twin. I can hear them a mile away and they call to me. As anyone who has heard or ridden these kinds of V-twins know, it's pretty much inevitable that you will start to develop a taste for the European variety of V-twins: Yes, I am talking about Aprilias and most famously...Ducatis. Yep, those Italian sirens are calling my name (more about that later).

The 20 odd years of bike racing has really helped me acclimatize to riding a moto, but there is a downside to that. Initially, I was very cautious with the bike. However, now that I am pretty comfortable I am noticing that I am in a somewhat precarious state since the moto feels like my bike. I sometimes forget that I am on a 400lb bike instead of a 15lb one and it takes a lot more effort to make it do what I want. I am getting too comfortable for how much skill I have. I am starting to ride my moto as if I was on a racing bike and that's is dangerous.

I find that I am now on a somewhat shallow learning curve with normal riding on the street. Street riding is just too chaotic and dangerous to really push my skill limits. I am finding that I actually seek out stop and go traffic so I can practice my lane splitting.

The challenging bits that I encounter during my commuting are too few and far between. They sneak up on me and they are over before I realize it and I don't really learn that much from them. This is bad since I am doomed to repeat my mistakes and that can get you killed.

I am a little afraid since the low lever motor control part of me can't tell the difference between a motorcycle and a bicycle and I am getting lulled into a false sense of confidence.

A good friend of mine who has spent about the same amount of time being a motorcycle guy as I have spent as a bicycle guy encouraged me early on to take my moto to the track.

He said that it will rapidly increase my skill and make me a much safer rider.

Funny thing is that after hearing a conversation about riding motorcycles and going to the track, Suzy (my girlfriend) actually said she wanted me to go to the track since she's a little worried about me being out on a motorcycle.

Darn! I guess I am going to have to go to the track then. I hate when that happens. :)

So, I guess I am going to have to go buy some more leathers and stuff. You know how much I hate leather. (Everybody who knows me knows this is blatant factiousness: I love leather).

But the other thing that happening is my moto lust is kicking in. I was at the Peet's in Hillcrest recently and there was a bright shiny red Ducati in the parking lot. Suzy said my eyes started twinkling what I saw it.

Lusting after a Ducati isn't the bad thing, lusting after another bike after only 4 months of riding is.

I need to cool my jets and put some more time on the SV before I start thinking about a Ducati or any other bike, no less.


But look at this!!! This thing is fvcking beautiful!!! How can you not lust over it?!?!?!

The other thing is a used 748 goes for about $6000-7000. I can do that. I have to resist though.

Oh, that's embarrassing...

I am a dumbass! Right after I was going on about how cycling might be cleaning up it's act and how Rasmussen was my hero, he gets booted from the tour right after he won today's stage.

I feel like a sucker. Yeah, just call me gullible.

Hard men of the road

Yesterday I saw one of the greatest epic stages in a long time. If any one reading this hasn't seen it, I won't spoil it for you. What I will say is, you have to watch it. It is one of those stages that will keep you biting your nails till the finish. Epic, absolutely epic!

I have been watching the tour for over 20 years and there aren't very many stages that keep your heart on the verge of busting out of your chest. I think that there will be more this year and I eagerly anticipate them.

As far as the outcome of today and yesterday, all I have to say is I finally have cycling heroes again. Rassumsen, Vino and Contador are my heroes.

A shift in the winds....

Over the last few years, even during Lance's iron rule over the tour, I have been just plain old disappointed at the whole doping thing. I am not under any delusions that the guys getting busted for doping are just a few bad apples, they are just the ones that get caught. I assume that most people in the pro-peleton are doing it. You can't not. The guys that are busting their ass just to finish these races are probably not riding for a team with good enough doctors and savvy enough team leadership to get the good stuff and or have it administered properly.

The guys who come out of no where and have absolutely epic days and win some crazy mountain stage with 7 hor category climbs and finish with energy to spare are for sure doing it. No one goes from the back to the front with out some help.

To certain extent what has happened it that the status quo has been shifted since pretty everybody is doing it. You HAVE to dope in order to just be on par. The guys who are just killing it have found some magic combination of drugs, training and medical supervision and they just get it all right.

However, the powers that be are really making an effort to get rid of it and I have a feeling that riders, once the get over the loss of having that kind of magic fitness, would probably rather not deal with it. They worry about getting caught, the long term medical effects, whether their doctors really know what they are doing or just hacks, blah, blah, blah. I bet a lot of them would rather just train and maybe sleep in a altitude tent.

Whether or not the holy altruistic grail of a clean sport is happening or even CAN happen, I would surmise that the sport is cleaner. Notice I said CLEANER not CLEAN.

But what I have noticed this year is (and even last year) is that the tour hard men are not as fast as they were a couple of years ago. People are a little more vulnerable.

I can only hope that the cycling will get cleaner. The pessimistic side says it might be just a temporary regrouping and nothing will change, but the optimistic side hopes that we are witnessing a real shift in cycling. I can only hope...

Clarity

On Feburary 29, 2004 I met a woman named Suzanne Peterson, pHD at a party in PB held by some friends. She was introduced to me by a mutual friend, Rebbecca Cho as her long time friend who just got done with her doctoral work at USC. We pretty much instantly hit it off and that night didn't end for me till sometime early Monday morning.

This evening ushered in one of the tumultuous periods of my life, both good and bad. Suzanne and I spend many, many days together and many apart. We broke up (or rather I broke up) and we got back together repeatedly. We were one of those couples whose "together" status changed more often than the weather and people would routinely roll their eyes when I would give them the currently vague state of our relationship.

I have had many dark periods in my life over the last 7 years. My parents passing away and my aunt's instigated a prolonged battle with clinical depression that I have only recently really emerged from.

During this dark period I did Suzy a real injustice. I really beat her up emotionally. Any woman in her right might wouldn't just not ever talk to me but would probably hire a bunch of bouncers to beat the crap outta me. Suzy would be totally justified in doing that, because I deserved it.

But Suzy didn't do that: She tried to help me to see that I was broken, she guided me to treatment and to a better life and then she just patiently waited for me to emerge.

Somehow she saw qualities in me that I didn't even see and knew that they needed to be coaxed out. She loved/loves me for my faults as well as my qualities and at long last I can see her for all the good and bad and appreciate the sum of the parts that are so much greater than the whole.

After three years of trying to help me, she was beginning to think that she was wasting her time and began to let go and move on.

So, now 3-4 months later I finally see what a wonderful woman this was sitting right next to me and despite an 11th hour effort, I almost lost her. That will never happen again. Never will I let her forget how she saved me and how much I appreciate that.

It's time for her to reap the rewards for her selfless devotion and patience.

Brotherhood o' the bike.

There was a time long ago when riding your bike (bicycle) meant you were part of a very exclusive...or more accurately, a very rarefied....set of people. When I was a wee lad just waking up to all the wonderful, joyous, beautiful things associated with all things two wheeled, we all realized that there just weren't too many of us.

So, every time you would ride by another cyclist, you at least waved. In the early days (<1980) you would actually stop and talk. Because in Florida during the late 70s and early 80s you just didn't know when you would meet another brother o' the bike.

Time went on and I moved to California and I must have been such a Fred. I kept waving at every cyclist I saw. After about 30 min riding around Berkeley, I just got tired of waving because there were more cyclists that I could shake a stick at (and I am damn good at shaking sticks!).

Soon I realized that I was in a different world and on most rides, it would probably only be another 10-15min till I saw the next cyclist.

That was about 17 years ago and times have changed. Cyclists are almost a dime a dozen. I still wave or at least nod at every cyclist I see. I figure that it's the right thing to do. There are way too many snooty, elitist, "my carbon fiber super expensive bike is better than yours" yahoos who think they're too cool to wave at some gangly college kid having a good time on the bike because he's not riding a Cervelo. There are way too many of those people occupying the a-hole end of the spectrum and I feel it's my obligation to balance that out.

But I lament those old days where all cyclists were my friend.

But what is really interesting of late is I have found a new fraternity(maybe it's coed, too).

Since I have started riding motos, I have noticed that we all wave at each other. It's very distinctive. It's always the left hand and it's almost always the first two fingers of that hand pointed out low like you were pointing out a pot hole 4-5' to your left.

I was riding home from work the other day via Highland valley road and Hwy 67 and I was amazed on how consistent the moto-wave was. Even the CHP moto guys waved!

I wondered why this was. What is the connection that cyclist used to and Moto riders all feel?

I was listening to the radio about how Marines would be desperate to go back to that hellhole that is Iraq after suffering the most horrific injuries. Civilians stateside would be flabbergasted, bewildered and incredulous of why on Earth anyone would want to go back. Without fail the answer was: "My buddies are back there! I have to go back".

Having been in the service, I have an inkling of the connection that this battered, weary, scarred folks have: just an inkling, though.

Then it occurred to me. Cyclists are probably one of the most vulnerable folks on the road: We ride in and amongst 3000-5000lbs of steel, plastic and rubber driven by people who would rather finish their text message than actually pay attention to where they are going with little more than Lycra and 3-4oz of Styrofoam on our noggin'. Moto riders are similarly vulnerable except we are cooking along at 40-150mph: there is much more danger in that.

Albeit riding a bike or a moto are probably an order of magnitude or so safer than a Marine going door to door in the Anbar Province, we are still on the same continuum: for personal reasons we have made a life choice to put ourselves in danger on a daily basis. That risk of death and injury that is optional, that saddling up next to your own mortality and the grim reaper creates a bond.

Personally, if I had the choice of how I would want to leave this world I would choose standing between the reaper and those I love, defiantly saying "you gotta go through me, first!" In lieu of that it would be doing something I love. Much preferable than wasting away making my children's life miserable, draining their youth as they watch me waste away....a mere shell of the man I used to be.

I watched my parents go like that and the saddest thing was not that they passed. The saddest thing was that I knew of who these people were: Towering, defiant folk. People who bucked the trend, fought tooth and nail against the odds and then said "Bring it!"

The thing is, we have to wave at each other. Because that cyclist/moto-rider/marine we see has a non-trivial chance of meeting his/her doom around the next corner and the hindsight revelation that you should have said something to so-and-so before they were gone is far too common.

Motorcycle training...

...is a good thing.

I did my motorcycle training class this weekend and I have to say, if anyone rides a moto or is thinking of getting a moto: Take this class. It's a great class and I learned a huge amount.

Despite the fact that you get to waive the DMV skill test and you save money on your insurance, it's invaluable just for the opportunity to have 10 hours of intensive one-on-one coaching and instruction. The guys who run the Palomar College class are very good.

Anyway, enough plugging the Motorcycle Safety Foundation.

The class was set up like this: Friday: 3 hours in class learning about how a motorcycle works and how to ride it.
Saturday: 5 hours of motorcycle trainging, another 3 hours of classroom time plus a knowledge test similar to the DMV test but without the long lines and disaffected DMV workers.
Sunday: Another 5 hours of motorcycle training and a skill test.

I drove to the Saturday sessions because I was late and the class went till 10pm and I did not want to ride on the freeway or ride that late at night. Based upon how freakin' tired I was by the time I was done with class, not riding to the class was a REALLY good idea.

Sunday, I slept in and then took my time riding (my moto) to class. I thought it would be fine. I would have some extra riding time and work on those newly acquired skills right after I learned them.

But here's the rub: Riding a moto is pretty demanding on your hands. Your left hand works the clutch and the right hand works the throttle and brake. It's pretty tiring if you are not used to it. Even with all the wrenching time and and using my hands all the time, My hands get pretty tired after about 30-45 of riding.

So, I started off on my ride to Palomar College in San Marcos where the training class was. I took a nice long route: I essentially did the SDBC ride route to the end of Stud Loop and made my way backwards on the Swami's route till Luecadia Blvd which turns into Olivenhain and then turns into Rancho Santa Fe and crosses to San Marcos Blvd. Nice ride but I am telling your my mits were sore.
I then began to realize that this riding to the ride wasn't such a good idea. I got pretty tired during the 5 hour training session and I had to down a couple of big diet cokes to get through. We sat around for a bit after the final skill evaluation (I got the 2nd best score BTW. I only did worse than a guy who's been racing motos all his life). Oh, they supply the motorcycle and I have to warn you, they are such beater bikes. I mean seriously. They all suuuuuper funky. They go, stop shift and turn and that's about it. They say: "if you can ride these bikes, you can ride anything".

So after doing all the final stuff and getting all the paperwork done, it was time to ride home. I was pretty excited to get on my moto after riding the POS bikes. The instructors liked my bike and the senior coach there (who has been riding motos almost as long as I have been alive: ALMOST 40 FRIKIN' YEARS!!!!!!!!) said my bike was a hoot to ride.

I was pretty stoked about everything in general and started to rid back home. I went back pretty much the way I came: Back to the Swami's route, then backwards on the SDBC route. Fun roads for bikes and motos. All was good: I was practicing my newly acquired skills and then about 40 mins into it as I crossed Carmel Valley Road, my left hand started complaining profusely about squeezing the clutch. I mean it was really painful.

Since I still only have my learners permit, I am not suppose to ride at night or on the freeways. But after a couple of stalls due to my left hand not responding like it was supposed to, I decided the safer thing to do was just get on the freeway and give my hand a rest.

So, onto the freeway I go! I got on the 805 at Mira Mesa and bolted home. I actually got my bike up near 90. Did you know there is a lot of wind (90mph to be excact! :) )when you are going 90mph on a bike? Who would have guessed????

Good thing I did that because my left hand needed that rest. When I got off at El Cajon I could tell my hands were feeling better. But I still only had about another 20 mins of traffic time in my hands.

Of course, I spend all day typing like mad and my hand are VERY tired right now. I need to go ride my road bike to recover from typing this post. OIY!!!!!

Rumble, rumble, rumble

That's the sound of a 90deg V-twin and it is good!

The sound makes the bike sound a lot bigger than it is. It kinda sounds like a Ducati with out the maintenance costs and the big price tag.

I retrived it on Sunday. The seller lived in Beverly Hills and so we met in Corona to do the deal. Sean Burke of SDVA Presidential fame was nice enough to ride it down for me. Though, I think he may have gotten a better deal out of this because when I got the key from him after riding it down, he had a reeeeeallllly big grin on his face.

I've got about 6 hours of riding on it so far and I am diggin' every minute of it.

Next stop: Motorcycle skills class this weekend.

Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble

Well, in less than 4 months I have logged about 2,300 miles on my moto and I have say that I am enjoying pretty much every minute of it. I'm getting comfortable with the SV and I have really developed an affinity for the distinctive power delivery of 90degree V-twin. I can hear them a mile away.

The 20 odd years of bike racing has really helped me acclimatize to riding a moto, but there is a downside to that. Initially, I was very cautious with the bike. However, now that I am pretty comfortable I am noticing that I am in a somewhat precarious state since the moto feels like my bike. I sometimes forget that I am on a 400lb bike instead of a 15lb one and it takes a lot more effort to make it do what I want. I am getting too comfortable for how much skill I have. I am starting to ride my moto as if I was on a racing bike and that's is dangerous.

I find that I am now on a somewhat shallow learning curve with normal riding on the street. Street riding is just too chaotic and dangerous to really push my skill limits. I am finding that I actually seek out stop and go traffic so I can practice my lane splitting.

The challenging bits that I encounter during my commuting are too few and far between. They sneak up on me and they are over before I realize it and I don't really learn that much from them, which is bad since I am doomed to repeat my mistakes and that can get you killed.

I am a little afraid since the low lever motor control part of me can't tell the difference between a motorcycle and a bicycle and I am getting lulled into a false sense of confidence.

A good friend of mine who has spent about the same amount of time being a motorcycle guy as I have spent as a bicycle guy encouraged me early on to take my moto to the track.

He said that it will rapidly increase my skill and make me a much safer rider.

Funny thing is that after hearing a conversation about riding motorcycles and going to the track, Suzy (my girlfriend) actually said she wanted me to go to the track since she's a little worry about me being out on a motorcycle.

Darn! I guess I am going to have to go to the track then. I hate when that happens.

So, I guess I am going to have to go buy some more leathers and stuff. You know how much I hate leather. (Everybody who knows me knows this is blatant factiousness: I love leather).

But the other thing that happening is my moto lust is kicking in. I was at the Peet's in Hillcrest and there was a bright shiny red Ducati in the parking lot. Suzy said my eyes started twinkling what I saw it.

Lusting after a Ducati isn't the bad thing, lusting after another bike after only 4 months of riding is.

I need to cool my jets and put some more time on the SV before I start thinking about a Ducati or any other bike, no less.


But look at this!!! This thing is fvcking beautiful!!! How can you not lust over it?

The other thing is a used 748 goes for about $6000-7000. I can do that. I have to resist though.

Vrrooooooooommmmm!

Oh, oh, oh! Do you feel the need? The need....the need for speed? This little puppy will be mine in 9 days.

It's a V-twin a la Ducati and all the great I-talian bikes. If anyone reading this rides, chances are they will recognize what kind of bike and they will most likely give the nod of approval.

Now, ya'll non-speed freaks don't you fret none. This is a good starter bike. It's not stoooopid fast, just fast enough and it handles well enough that even seasoned pro racer types like to have one for mellow riding(read: less than 180mph).
I am taking the 3 day Motorcycle Safety Foundation's beginner class designed to keep people from killing themselves. This class is regarded well enough that if you complete it, the DMV will waive their rider skills test.

Now, you will note that there isn't a passenger seat on it. This will change once I feel competent enough to not kill any suckers.....er...passengers that dare hop on the back. Muhahahaha!!!!!

Steeply banked wooden freedom

You know what's cool? I'll tell ya what's cool: 250meters of 45deg banked siberian pine. That's what.

What's even cooler? Riding on said expanse of unfinished wood.

So, a bit of history: From late 2003 to just last summer (June 2006) I was living in the vast, manicured souless wasteland just north of San Diego County that is Orance County (AKA The OC) and pretty much hated ever minute of it.

The one upside to that Godforsaken place (that is populated by convenient christians, ironically) is that it's about equidistant between the SD and LA Velodromes. So that meant that it was a wash on which track was closer. That meant I spent a lot of time on the road with a track bike atop my Audi. That was the price I paid for riding on an indoor, wooden 250m track. A price I gladly paid.

If you haven't had the opportunity to ride at such a venue, I highly suggest it.

ANYway, the thing is that when I moved to SD, it made the LA Track WAAAAAY too far away to do on a regular basis, so I haven't been to that track since last last summer.

Alison, was denied racing at the first SoCal Track cup in SD but is bound and determined to make the rest of the series. This includes the next installment at ADT (LA Velodrome). Trick is, racing on that velodrome requires certification since it's so freakin' steep that you can easily get yourself in trouble.

So, we ventured up to LA and did the Accelerated class. This involved about 20-30 minutes of Roger Young lecturing on how to ride the track without screwing it up and and a basic test of getting to on the track, riding the pole lane, riding on the blue line, coming down to the pole again and on to the apron. Basic stuff.

I sat through the lecture, anxious to get suited up and turn some laps on the wood. We got to the riding part and I bet you no has seen anyone change into a skinsuit so fast. I was on the track way before anyone. Happy, happy, joy, joy! I'm on wood! Oh boy!

Alison spent the required minimum time on the track to get the nod that she wouldn't be a hazard to herself, other riders or the wood and I just went around in circles going on about how it had been too long since I was on this track.

I educate her on how to do exchanges on the track and somewhere in there, Roger pretty much told everyone that "it's time to go home" while we were still riding around. He even told us "Go ahead and ride around some more, if you want".

So, we did a bunch of mellow 20mph laps taking half lap pulls for the practice. She needed it to be allowed to race on the May 12th and I needed it for my peace of mind.



Golly that track is steep!


Turn and burn.

Masochistic Madison of Mayhem and Misery

Tuesday night track racing has stared and it's not 4 weeks into the program. Last night was particularly painful night.

Part of what is making the recent track races so hurtful is that I am forcing myself to use a pretty tiny gear: 88.6 or a 49x15 (comparable to a 53x17) as opposed to a standard 90 (comparable to a 53x16). This tiny gear for races that hit 35 mph.

This Tuesday was special in that we had one of our first Madisons of the year. It was totally thrown together but we still got 7 teams!!!! That's pretty damn good for a random Tuesday night Madison.

So Iggy Silva III (little Iggy that use to be that one random Jr desperately hanging on the SDBC ride) asks if I would be his partner. I say "uh sure...you know I'm kinda slow compared to you. You sure you want to ride with me?"

He says he doesn't care, so I shrug and tell him I'll do my best.

We line up on the fence and the reality of how in over my friggin' head I am becomes very apparent. We have Kevin Shiller: cat 1 trackie possibly going to the Olympics, Shaun Wallace: former pro trackie who has held many national and world titles, Adam Smith renowned sprinter, John Arnold: possessor of a 1500W sprint, Chris Bennet: Local cat 2 road and trackie, Dr Alan Richburg: Cat 2 track/road, former Master's Nat'l champion......Oh, did I mention that Iggy is a Jr National Champion?
Yeah, I was in the DEEEEEEEEEEEP end. In fact, I am pretty sure that end wasn't just deep but bottomless.

I knew there was no quitting in this race. I would not do that to Iggy and I would never hear the end of that.

So we start off and things are fine and things are ticking along. Iggy and I exchange a few times and get the feel for each other throwing style.

It was a pretty short race at 35laps (Thank God!) and the first sprint was at 20 laps so things stayed mellow for the first 12 laps.

Somewhere at 21-22 laps to go the pace went from manageable to just plain old painful. I was able to time it right to throw in Iggy at a little less than a lap to go for the sprint with fresh legs: classic Madison move.

Now, notice I said "somewhere at 21-22"? I am vague on that point because the pain of the next 20 laps has somehow degraded my memory of the events that transpired after that.

We were supposed to have a mellow Madison to warm the crowd up for the big one coming in a couple of weeks.

Mellow-schmellow! After that first sprint it was just on! Kevin, Iggy and Shaun were going at it like a bunch of greyhounds going after the last mechanical bunny on the planet. I was just trying to not throw Iggy in with a huge gap to close....and keep enough oxygen in my brain so as not to run into anyone.

I missed one throw because Iggy was coming a lot hotter than I thought. I got used to those (somehow!!!!) and I tell you it's damn fun being accelerated from 15mph to 30mph+ in about 2 secs!!!

Somehow I managed not to get dropped (don't ask me how! I don't think I was actually conscious) and got to about 4 laps to go when Iggy Sr asked if I wanted Iggy to be thrown at 1 or 2 laps to go.

The question I was asking was "Why do you think I can do math now!?!??!! There is no oxygen in my math centers of my brain!!!"
I didn't say that out loud...all I could manage was a "mumble-mumble-Wha?-mumble mumble"
Yeah, no oxygen to the speech centers either.

I stick it and get ready to throw Iggy in for the last sprint and things got really fuzzy as Kevin and Shaun started to wind it up. I just remember desperately trying to discern Iggy's black jersey from the other colors. This was hard as my vision was narrowing. I'm not sure if this was a because we were approaching the speed of light or was my brain shutting down to oxygen-debt.

I think I threw him in, I just don't remember.

You know what they say about track racing: Turn and Burn.
Yep, I turned and I buuuuuuuuuurned.

FFF final assembly

So, after a lot of parts gathering and spending a fair amount of time at both Performance and Adam's Ave bike shops, I had all the parts (almost) to finish the FFF (Fat Fetish Fixie). I spent 90% of Saturday doing the assembly and doing last minute trips to the shops.

Since the Fetish is a MTB fame, the chainstays are set pretty far apart and the crankset I am using is an old school road Sugino, I had to find a really FRIGGIN' wide BB to get everthing to clear. But I got it all done and it looks nice.

Since the cranset was set out so far, I had to pay a lot of attention to the chainline. I have a track hub that I converted to MTB spacing and I had to space it all the way over to the right to get the chain line right.
This was going to make for an interesting back wheel with dishing and the offset rim.

I laced the wheel up and had to do two pretty weird things to make it work right: I had to put a reverse dish and lace up the rim backwards (withe the rim offset to right). It looks pretty weird and I am still waiting for someone to go "Hey, that wheel isn't built right!"

This looks all sorts of wrong to me, too.
Yep, that's no illusion. It's dished the "wrong" way: to the right. But the offset in the rim made it work out fine.

Here it is as about 90% complete. I just needed a seat post collar, a chain and some chainring bolts. Off to Performance I went.

Funny thing is that the most difficulty I had with the entire build was getting a tire on the front wheel. What a friggin' pain in the ass that was!!!! Holy hell! I pinched at least 2 tube as I had to use some super heavy duty tire irons to get some of the tires on. Total waste of time.

But I got it done, finishing the assembly with that hard as a rock S-works saddle off my new Specialized.She looks a little funky with the skinny tires, but I got some major fatties on their way. I even rode the thing to Adam's Ave to change out the 130mm stem that was making me about 2" taller.

I got some lights, a shorter stem and some bar ends with LEDs in them. I just need some handlebar tape and to put on the fat tires and she'll be done!!!! Stay tuned.

You know what's cool about San Diego?

Adam's Ave Bike shop on a Friday night. That's what.

I headed out of work on a Friday to meet a most frustrating and soul-robbing commute. I could feel the life being sucked out of me. My beloved Audi (yes, I do have a car and I do love it), and KPBS barely kept me from loosing my mind as I exited at Adams Ave off the 805 and I headed to Adam's Ave bike shop to go hunt down some parts for the FFF (Fat tire Fetish Fixie).

I think I knew things were looking up when I got the coveted Rock-star parking: a parking spot RIGHT in front of where you are going. That's right, I was parked pretty much right in front the of the front door.

I walked in and saw at least 6 people I knew in the shop. People who were just hanging out and tossing back a few brews, shooting the shit about bikes, racing and racers.

Andrew (owner of Adam's Ave) helped me find some parts for the FFF and offered me a beer.

I'm telling you, that beer was tasty and magically, all the parts (used and new) became all of a sudden shiny and new!

It was a good night. I went home and started to work on the FFF and made some pretty good progress.
I'm hoping that I can get it done this weekend. Wish me luck.

Memories

As of late my inbox is filled with e-mails from my new bike buddy, Alison and I can tell you that is a good thing. I have already blogged about how she has brightened my life with renewed bike-love and today she did it again. Probably without realizing it.

She was telling me about how her Sutter (commuter bike) was being worked on at one of her local bike shops and she was going on about how the mechanics were excited to work on it.

Now realize that the Sutter (this link is to a Sutter I found online, not Ali's) isn't just any old beater commuter. She is clad in Campy Nouvo Record and I would have been proud to ride her back in the day.

I think I replied to the e-mail telling Ali something like "Duh! They work on boring cheap uninspiring bikes all day. Working on something cool and old school is a treat!"

That made me think of my days as bike mechanic and how the soul numbing stream of cheap ass POS bikes were punctuated by some savory morsels of bike nirvana. Not the bling-bling fancy-schmancy bikes but the old school ones.
The Old Masters:
Gueciotti
Ciocc
Battaglins
3Rensho
Zeus
Gitane
Botecchia
Pinarello
Colnago


All the ones we used to see in the bike magazines in our youth but never actually saw in real life. Some of them came and went long ago.

It didn't matter what we had to do to them, they just brightened out day with their old school jeweled articulations of Campy, Roto, Simplex, Modolo and Suntour.

I sat there composing my e-mail to Ali about the joys of working on the old bikes and my mind started to go back in time, beyond my starving student bike mechanic days, beyond my Navy days. I took an express trip to the early 80's and the beginning of my love affair with bikes and the start of my life as a cyclist.

This life started in the most unlikely of places: central Florida were cyclists were more rare than snow flakes. There were only a couple of shops that were notable. The one that has stuck in my mind the most was a place called University Bicycle Center. It was the coolest bike shop within 30 miles. The guy who ran it was named Manny and he was just cool.
One of his mechanics helped me set up my first set of Jr gears. Gear restrictions limited our gears to 92 inches. He found me a 51 tooth chainring and built me a 15-21 freewheel (remember, this is the 80's: 6 speeds was IT!!!). That 51-15 gave me a 91.8.

Besides all the helpful people there was the real thing that makes me wax nostalgic: the pro room.
Back in the is little room past all the schlock bikes, the balloon tires and the kids bikes with tassels was this full on sensory assault of bicycle goodness.


There was at least 12-15 high end bikes. cabinets of bike components and all the racing accessories. As with all good racing bikes, they had sewups and leather saddles and sometimes leather handlebar tape. In this room they stored all the sewup tires and the leather hairnets, good quality cycling shorts with real leather chamois, and all the other stuff that goes with that: saddle soap, chamois cream, sewup glue, campy bike grease.

I bought all my sewup tires from that room and my first leather "hairnet helmet". A really nice Cinelli one with yellow sides.

All those things along with the Campy grease and the aging natural rubber tires created this aroma that was almost overwhelming. They say that smell is the sense that has the strongest link with memory and I can attest to that.

I have this thing about leather and the way it smells and I really think this mystical pro room has something to do with it. It had burned itself into my consciousness in a most indelible way and I have yet to come across anything on par.

I have been working in and shopping in bike shops most of my life and bikes just don't smell like that anymore. They just don't.

The closest thing is the actual mechanics area. The smell of bike grease and WD40 hints at this, but not quite.

So, while I sat there and reminisced about this magical place, it brought a smile to my face as I just savored the memory.

The Fetish Arrives

So, over the last two or three weeks I have been helping Ali with her project fixie. We have gathered parts and e-mailed back and forth with ideas for the ultimate, bitchin' girly fixie. She came over a couple of times to disassemble the freebie Norco and then to file off the rear brack braze-ons. Determined to do it all herself, she has been adamant that she be involved in every step. She has just dropped off the Norco for powder coating. Most of the parts are here and there are a few that are on their way.

All the while I have had bin full parts that will be the FFF (Fat Fetish Fixie) but alas, I have been beset with set backs in acquiring the frame.

But after a particularly uneventful and boring day followed by a most infuriating commute, complete with silly rubber necking for an accident that didn't even had any injuries or even engrossing auto-carnage that stretched my trip home by a good 20 min, I came home to a nice big box right outside my door.

My Fetish had finally arrived. :)

So, now I can start hanging parts. The only major job is building the rear wheel. I have to determine the spoke length and acquire spokes of said length and once said spokes of said length are acquired, I have only a couple of hours of wheel building to before I have my rear fixed gear mtb wheel. The rest should be fairly trivial. I might have to futz with the spacing of the rear wheel and the chain line but that's all in a days work.

I might even be able to beat Ali to completion, but that's not really the point.

Burning Ring of Fire

Today, I read on CNN that the Mansion of Johnny and June Cash burnt down. My immediate reaction was sadness, but after reading the article and then pondering the history of the mansion and the people who called it home, my sadness turned into tranquility.

John had purchased the house while it was still under construction from Braxton Dixon who was considered the South's own Frank Lloyd Wright. The Cashs lived in that house from before the were married till their deaths. They didn't house hop till they lived on some sprawling tract of land that would make Louis XIV feel inadequate. They had a house that became their home and that was just that.

My affinity for Johnny Cash and his music is a very recent thing and it really didn't occur till Johnny released a very large body of work just after the death of June Carter. I honestly believe that work, a lot of which were covers of other songs, is probably some of his best work.

He covered such modern stuff as Nine Inch Nails, Hurt in a way that Trent just couldn't do despite the fact that Trent wrote the freakin' song. I remember listening to an interview with Trent on the death of Johnny Cash and he talked about how awestruck he was by the surgical accuracy that John captured the essense of "Hurt". He mentioned how his friends said to him "THAT'S what you meant in that song". John simply had more "mileage" than Trent.

I also watched an interview with Johnny on either Charley Rose or one of his contemporaries and John mentioned how after the death of his beloved June, he told his agent to inundate him with work. Any work, just so he could keep himself going.
The convergence of tragic elements probably created one of the greatest bodies of music that the world has ever heard. Yes, almost all the songs were covers, but they were done by a man who was one of the greatest singer/songwriters this country has ever seen, it was done with millions upon millions of notes under his fingers and it was done with the motivation of all motivations: the loss of not just a loved one, but THE loved one. Mother of his children, owner of his heart and the inspiration behind most of his work.

When you listen to his last work, you can feel that these songs were the last firey, glorious show of the man who was arguably the father of rock and roll and all it's derivatives. Rock, Rock'a'billy, punk, and a thousand other genres. But the songs made you feel every bit of his pain and loss. His voice is cracked and broken by the weight of the decades, but as with all truly good things, the flaws only add to the character and it only gets better.

So, it seems only fitting that the home of the Cash's would go in such a manner. A burning ring of fire.

So, if you read this and even if Johnny Cash wasn't really your taste, take a moment and thank him (and his wife) because chances are that some piece of music you listen to now that makes you happy most likely owes itself to Johnny.

Bike parts

The Fat tire Fetish Fixie is yet another step closer to reality. Yesterday at the bike swap, I picked up about 80% of the parts I need for my new Fixie.

The only things I didn't find were tired, chain, saddle, headset and brakes. I found a whole slew of cool parts including a rear fixie hub for a whopping $1.00. I was hoping I would find a dope fixed gear rear mtb wheel, I but I think I was dreaming so I just picked up the parts to build my own: Rim and Hub. Just have to pop on down the Performance store and show them how to use their Sutherland's book to calculate spoke lengths to get my spokes.

Now I just need to wait for my Fetish frame to show and start hanging parts.

My buddy Alison was going to go shopping with me, but somehow she lost her sparkly gold wallet....along with all her cash. Really killed her day especially with a hideious Saturday night and a crappy Saturday on the bike.

I always say that trouble comes in threes (I don't know if that's true, I but I head it somewhere and thought it was cool) and conveyed that to her.

Sure enough, she scored a free frame, some pink cranks and a pink chain all for grabbing the fixed gear boys some grub. Oh and she got some ice cold Tecate. Amazing how some cool bike parts and some brew makes all things better.

Old form is returning

I have been involved in the San Diego cycling scene since about 1999 and have pretty much done all the SD rides at least once. Done Swamis, SDBC, Stadium, Cyclo-Vets, Tri-ride (Wednesday camp pendelton ride) Tuesday morning fiesta sprints, Thursday Night Fiesta. I'm sure there are more and I hope to do those, too.

But as far as Saturday morning, SDBC is still my favorite. It used to have a reputation as sketchy and not very challenging. The sketchy part was probably due a lot to the fact that it wasn't hard. The number of new riders that could stick the ride (what I called the t-shirt factor: really new riders often ride with t-shirts) would have a big effect on the sketchiness of ride.

Since the advent of the SDBC elite team, the nature of the ride has certainly changed: it's way harder which cuts down on the "T-shirt factor".

The very end of SDBC (AKA: the coast sprint) is probably my favorite part of the ride. It's probably about a 2km sprint with a bit of side wind and a hill at the end. This means that you must be on the left and you gotta wait till the end. It's a hard one if you are not experienced because it requires you be patient but still battle for position.


ANYWAY, a few years ago (circa 2003-2002) the parameters in my life shifted me towards the the time end of the time=money spectrum. In layman's terms: I was unemployed. Which means I had lots of time and no money.

Great for training but not so great for paying bills. So I filled my days with riding and I was pretty freakin' fit.

The Coast Sprint really suits me and I know how it always goes.

During this period when I was super fit I would always be a part of this sprint. Some days I would say to myself "Eh, I don't want to participate today" but just would find myself working my way forward and involved in the sprint.

There were the usual players and we would always dominate this sprint. John Arnold, Vince Fichera, sometimes the Canadian National Track team, local trackies and various other fast guys. This sprint was the very epitome of "playing" on the bike. I was so much fun.

Shortly before the sprint we would quickly hatch a plan and execute it. Didn't matter who "won" the sprint, it was the journey that made it special.

Subsequently, I got a job and shifted towards the money end of the spectrum and my fitness tapered off. I couldn't participate like I used to, party because I wasn't fit and party because the nature of the ride changed.

But over the last year, I have been back on the wagon to fitness. Vince (my coach) has helped me find motivation to train and my bike buddy Alison has rekindled my bike-love and things are starting to come around.

People say I look leaner, faster, and complain that my pulls cause them pain.

So this Saturday, I did the ride and was actually feeling pretty tired. I expected to suck and get blown off the back, but it didn't happen. Folks were laying wood the the pack and the pace was very high today, but magically, I was feeling good. Tired, but good. Staying near the front and in the mix. Not quite fit enough to do stud loop with the new and improved SDBC bad-assess, but still very encouraging.

But the real magic was on the coast sprint. Things were lining up , the usual players were figuring out what was to be done and Vince was going to start things off. I decided that I was going to try and slip into that role so that Vince could come off my wheel at speed with out having to cut that wind.

There were a couple of guys trying to make a break of it and I got myself in front of Vince just past the Charthouse and started my suicide run. My intention was to totally uncork it to get the train up to speed and with clear road ahead. I wound it up till I was seeing double and drooling all over myself and pulled off about half way till the uphill to the actual sprint. When I pulled off, my heart rate was at a new max: 192. I haven't seen 190+ for about 5 years.

Yeah, I really pulled the pin on that grenade.

The best part was when I talked to Vince later that day. He was happy with how hard I went.

I don't think I was really really making people hurt that much or really making Vince hurt, I was just doing my part and was able to participate.

I was just happy to be able to "play" again.

Happy days

Math challenged

Today I went to lunch with some co-workers (two to be exact) and we were served by a very pretty girl who probably was only 20 or so.

We all noted how efficient she was. She did it all by the numbers and she did it well. First you say hi, then you ask what we want to drink, you bring the drinks and that gives us time to decide what we are going to eat. We didn't even have to look around to give her the clue that we needed anything. Our drinks (ice tea and soda.....my company isn't THAT cool) never got empty and the bill was prompt. We were going to leave her a fat tip.

When we divvied up the bill (which was $36) one of the guys owed the other guy lunch so we decided to split the bill by thirds and one guy pays two of those thirds and I pay one third. Everybody with me so far? Ok, that means ya'll successfully passed 6th grade.

Ok so this is the next challange: For a bill of $36 and I am paying 1/3rd, how much should our pretty little server charge to my credit car? Oh, here's the extra credit, how much does the server charge to the other guys bill?

Insert Double Jeapordy music here....

Ok, time's up. Everyone put down your pensils. What's the answer? Well I am assuming that everyone here knows the answer, but here we go: Say it with me....$12 and $24. Yes! Your a winner! You get a gold star!!!!

Well, unfortunately, our pretty little server was not up to the challenge, stating something about not being able to do math. No gold star for her.

I just have one thing to say: WHAT THE FVCK!!?!?!??!?!

I know that registers are pretty good at calculating change (when people use cash, perish the thought) and calculators are EVERYWHERE (even my microwave has a calculator) but does no one teach math anymore? I mean basic crap that I learned in 5th grade!!!! This isn't algebra, or long division. This if FRACTIONS. Geez! Do they just forego math because that might challenge the "Everyone is a winner" mantra? Are our children's self-esteem so fragile that we dare not create any challenges?

Or is this because our pretty little server was so damn pretty that everyone just let her get away with out actually learning anything. Maybe she just smiled real pretty and the dorky math geek did her homework for her.

I know I am biased in that I have had as much math as you can with out actually going into a math major, but this is back in GRADE SCHOOL level!



My broke-dick, white-trash, red-neck eduma-cation got me way beyond fractions, it even got me to...gasp.....algebra, geometry and (wait for it....) TRIG!!! I wasn't even on the college prep track.

Do we think our school system is broken, I sure do.

Bittersweet dreams

I woke up sometime early this morning from a dream. It wasn't a nightmare or a troubling dream.

I dreamt about me Da. We were sitting at my Aunt Eva's house in Winter Haven Florida present day and they talking to each other about me, noting how well I was doing in the very deadpan way they did. They would compliment you and you wouldn't even know it.


This may not seem like strange dream, but the twist is that both my Aunt and my Pop are gone. I lost my Pop back in 2001 and my Aunt in 2004. Since they were both pre internet age (by a significant part of a century) I want to try and immortalize them, just a little bit, by typing their names here:

David Jerome Cooper O'Dell, born: March 14, 1919, died: December 1, 2001

Eve Diane Moore born 1914 in Worcestershire, England died: 2004 Winter Haven Florida
(They were siblings, BTW)

Maybe someday someone will do a Google search and I want there to be at least one hit.

I think about my Dad and Aunt E often as well as my Mom .....who also passed away in 2004...(2004 was not a good year for me), but I don't dream of them often. So this dream was unusual and it kind of hit me.



My Dad is largely responsible for the foundation of my engineering career. Being an engineer himself and recognizing that all those toys I use to take apart meant I had that knack. He would give me LEGOs, Erector Sets and all sorts of build-it toys, but he also gave me things like a differential to a car and electromagnetic relay and a lawnmower engine.

Strange gifts, but if you are an engineer...a REAL engineer, these are better than any bike, rocket, robot or airplane. Because they are real hardware, they click and clack, twirl and whirl.

Additionally, my Dad would help me take them apart and show me how they worked. We would put them back together and (hopefully) they would work again. I remember the time he and I rebuilt a lawnmover. You can't imagine the joy that I felt when the rickety old LanwBoy roared to life again, rejuvenated.

All those things me dad taught me gave me a incredible advantage during engineering school. All the other students would do great with pencil and paper but were useless when they had to either check their answers if they made sense or had to turn it into reality.

Even today, those skills I was given have paid huge dividends. Even though my last job was mostly design and programming, I did my own wiring, assembly, machining and fabrication. The machinists knew me by name and would come visit me in the lab on their breaks. If I needed some work done in an emergency, they would stay late and help me out.

My Dad taught me to machine and instilled the respect for the work and those who made their living by that work.

Unfortunately, my Dad died very early in my career and didn't really get to see my progress. He only knew I worked on computers. His surviving friends would always tell me that he was very proud of me, but I wish he could have seen me now.

As I head out on my ride on this beautiful sunny day in San Diego, I will be thinking of my parents and the family I have lost and appreciate all they have given me.

Fetish Fat Fixie project commences

Fetish Fixie: Part 1

My newly rejuvenated bike lust is beginning to the coalesce into a concrete idea that will hopefully further solidify into a asphalt caressing velo-reality.

My notion was inspired by my new bike buddy to build a fixed gear bike. I was knocking the idea around already but it got kicked to the front burner as part of a joint fixie plan.

The idea is this: A fixed gear bike built upon a mountain bike frame using 26" wheels with some wide slicks. Mustache bars, a front disk brake are going to round this thing out.
Fitting with my personality (I have own two black Audis in a row and really can't conceive of another color), it will be all black. Black frame, black forks, black, black, black!!!!

Maybe even some fenders. This is intended to be a town bike since I live only 6 blocks from the track and less to most of the local cool places in North Park, University Heights and Hillcrest.

It recently occurred to me that the easiest way to deal with the parking in these areas (which can get ugly) is to not park in these areas. They are all pretty close and riding there is not even an issue. If I put a nice set of lights on this Fat tired Fetish Fixie, I'm golden for what ever the night brings. It's perfect for bopping down to the track to spectate the track racing when I am not actually participating.

The idea of a town bike is something I became familiar with in Davis. As the parking is very limited in Davis, EVERYone has a bike and it's the best way to get around. All the bike racers would take it upon themselves to acquire a town bike that set them apart. Usually these manifested themselves as retired and/or vintage racing bikes. Some of the more hardcore folks would commute on fixed gears. Maybe it was because we felt we had to be cooler than everyone, but no one would actually admit that. And as anyone who is ANYone knows, the first rule of being hip is you can't admit to being hip.

I just placed on order for the following frame from Fethish Bikes in Az:
It's a single speed mountain bike frame that will provide the core for this idea to converge into a reality. The San Diego Velodrome swap meet is next Sunday. Alison and I are going to make a shopping list and do some bike stuff shopping.

She is building herself a sparkly pink fixie that is intended to demonstrate to the world that Pretty Ally is not one to be messed with but is still very much a girl. It will provide the means to teach her how to build and fix her own bike, thus freeing her from the slavery of having to go to the bike shop every time she needs new handlebar tape put on her rig.

Epiphitic

Just recently I have made a new friend who has rekindled an old love in a way that I didn't think was possible. It wasn't a love that I neglected or really took for granted...ok, maybe a little.

This will sound silly to most people: (but if you get me, you will know that this is all me) my first love outside of my parents was my bike. Yes, yes, yes, it's just a bucket of parts, but it's the concept of what my bikes have given me: Freedom, competence, discipline, confidence, toughness, bliss.

I can honestly say that my bike and the exploits therewith have lead to all good things in my life.

My new friend has made me appreciate bikes in their simplest form and even though I ride my bike every day, through her eyes, it is all of a sudden fresh, golden and new.

I have even gotten a new snazzy bling bling bike that is just sublime, but my beloved fish (AKA The Landshark) still makes me giddy with epiphitic glee.

She (the Landshark) is a tank, a full 1/3rd heavier than the new bikes, but riding her makes me feel a joy that is quite.....I can't even describe it.

She is true, solid, capable and enduring.

Full circle

I find it ironic that even though I had my first computer back when I was 14 and understood the ancestral root of the computer (the electromagnetic relay) when most kids were struggling to grasp why they were growing hair in strange places, it has taken me till my late 30s before I would fully embrace my ability with computers and the intricate, abstract art of arranging ones and zeros to make them do the things they can do. I have spent most of my engineering career as a mechanical/control engineer. Funny thing is most software engineers seem strange to me.

When I got my second computer a full 10 years after my first computer (1992), I started actually keeping a journal and I always wanted to post my writing. Not that I really thought my writing was anything to...write home about, but I have always felt that most people just don't get me.

It's very strange to me that I had to wait for another 10-15 years for this online journal called blogging to come to pass before I could let my thoughts to really rise TO (not above) the din of all the other voices out there. In fact, I even wrote my own blogging program for the bicycle racing team website I manage (hell! Manage!? I created it!) www.suncoastveloracing.com.

But so it goes I guess. One might say I was ahead of my time, but I don't believe that at all. I wouldn't really call myself an early adopter. I have been bitten by that way too many times (Can you say VISTA?)

I have been racing on a 8 year old STEEL bike for chrissakes (and doing pretty well, I might add) while everyone one is going on about how they are at such a disadvantage because their $4000 bike's 16lbs is really hurting their race performance. People shake their heads when I roll up on my beloved Landshark, but I figure that 90% of the people on the planet don't get me and I actually think I am being optimistic in that number.

So, here begins my first blog. If your are reading this, maybe you might "get me" one day. If you think you do, please give me a hint. I am doing this blog so that I might be able to articulate who I am one day.

Cheers