Nothing brings people together like a bike build. The camaraderie, the enthusiasm, the joy of shared knowledge and experience… these are alien things to our purchasing department. The things that bring these sad sacks to a bike build are primal, baser, animalistic needs: needling, questioning, mocking, re-questioning, trolling and generally undermining the mechanical skills of whoever is unlucky enough to be building the bike and then setting upon him or her like a pack of hyenas on a wounded gazelle. Enter Patrick for round two of the EPS demo bike build! We’ve got the bloody thing wired and Tony Stone (service center) was nice enough to throw the crankset in and fix some issues with a chain stay. Brake cables, tires, tape and this thing should be ready to ride…
Here’s the heckling ringleader, feeding the hate
Back in the Service Center, Tony makes like Arsenio, and “gets busy”…
Have a great evening. Jose wants to make you uncomfortable, in your dreams.
At Sunday’s race, Bloggy found a nice spot on the first climb and snapped a few photos of various riders in various stages of suffering and/or pretending not to suffer. After several riders, I saw a gentleman from TotalCyclist in Charlotte sporting, lo and behold, a Catlike! My first Catlike sighting in the wild for the season. I made a tick mark on my list, chucked my camera into the pond and ran back home to dream of Spanish helmet intrigue. This is our first year distributing these lids and we couldn’t be more excited, like this dude!
Here are a few of the pallets remaining from this morning’s tidal wave-like arrival. Our receiving department are a sharp bunch. They demand your respect. They expect your love.
This rider’s helmet is obviously crushing his brain. His brain needs the gentle embrace of a Catlike. He will learn, but will it be too late? CATLIKE!!!
I woke up Sunday morning with the distinct taste of soil and Four Loko in my mouth. “Not again” I thought. Hands bound with a thick yellow cord, I kicked open the trunk of the anonymous looking sedan to be greeted by golden light, shimmering through Spanish moss. After I sawed my hands free with what remained of the passenger side mirror (still wet with Mendoza’s blood), destroyed the remnants of the attache case and the blueprints stashed inside, I stumbled into an equally confused park ranger who confirmed my darkest fears: I had ended up at Poinsett State Park… again.
A brief word of thanks followed by a ruthless karate chop to the neck sent him sprawling into a holly bush as I ran towards a grass clearing. Fiddlesticks; too late: Kevin’s cat 2 mountain bike race had started without me. As I stood by the slipshod course tape, without hope and/or pants, I remembered to snap a quick photo with a hastily constructed camera made from another camera that I smashed into bits and then re-assembled. Throat horse from an evening of screaming threats in Turkish through a megaphone on a sinister quay in an equally sinister dockyard, my shouts of encouragement came out like molasses through an eye dropper.
As Kevin disappeared into the woods, I walked into the cool, inviting pond teeming with tadpoles. I quickly introduced myself to them as their new lord and master and vowed to stay away from XC mountain bike racing forever. The end.
Local shop owner Tim of Summit Cycles was the only racer Bloggy saw on a single speed cross bike. One can only assume he lost a bet/angered a Mayan god to be given such a punishment
Bloggy’s chum Brian Hackathorne was sandbagging it up in the Expert 45+ class but had time to slow down so I could get a shot of his Piggly Wiggly kit with the pink/blue/black colors that are eerily reminiscent of a kit that has pummeled him at races in years past. Good to see you B!
Bloggy: (Shouted across spillway) What camera are you shooting with?
Stranger: Camera?! What camera?
We finally found Kevin roaming around the course with the Garmin VIRB perched upon his Catlike Mixino at a jaunty angle. He was in good spirits, and not just because of the poison tree frogs he’d been licking all over the course, but they didn’t hurt!
So in conclusion, this guy:
Ever since Kevin built a rudimentary green screen in the video studio, it’s brought a little more joy to our collective lives. That joy comes in the form of dropping innocuous products and their corresponding testers into improbable if not impossible situations, heightening the excitement/insanity ratio in each video and thus captivating our viewing audience. Are you watching a product review, or the final 20 minutes of Kurosawa’s “Dreams”? Sometimes, it’s hard to tell. After re-reading his private stash of Richard Matheson penny dreadfuls, Kevin took JT on a journey of self-discovery where the very nature of his human soul is laid out for all the world to see, in addition to his asymmetric sit bones…
“Bye everybody! I’m a ghost now!”
Clayton, who is the man you speak to when it comes to Northwave warranty issues, wants to show you that there are indeed pallets taller than his 6’6 frame. Some of them are crammed with fresh new shipments of shoes! Cheer up Clayton, it’s not like you’re turning into a Northwave shoe! Oh wait, you are. We wish you luck in your future non-human shoe endeavors. I am taking your cubicle chair and/or headphones.
Do you recognize this bottom bracket? This is Kevin’s latest horror show…
Do you recognize this man? This is our product manager Matt who just unloaded the above frame on Kevin with the caveat: you cannot return it for any reason. See how he smiles?
Today’s post was going to be an 11,000 word, rambling discourse about the seminal 1973 Genesis album “Selling England By The Pound”. Instead, it is now a pithy yet picture-laden post about our in-house Campagnolo EPS Athena group’s migration from Patrick’s ghetto-sled to the sleek new company demo frame. Today’s exciting installment is called “Kevin Bothers Patrick!” Bloggy has never installed Campagnolo EPS but one hopes it goes on as easily as it comes off (much like popular brands of suntan lotion and topical laxative creams). The parts are free of Patrick. Long live freedom, down with Patrick! DOWN WITH PATRICK! Also, thanks to Patrick for letting us borrow the EPS groupset. He’s swell.
Today the weather was sunny, topping out at an unusually balmy 77 degrees. What better setting for a mini bike time trial? Kevin rolled up his pant leg and fired up the Garmin. His first run had him a little over a minute for a complete circuit around Hawley, but his second run crushed his first time and set a robust 16 mile per hour average. Danger, we embrace thee!
Bonnie in accounting was nice enough to bring ZD to work today. ZD is two years old but has the energy of a 1 5/8 year old! The dog is like a panting electron, zipping around the office like his life depends on it. Unfortunately for ZD, 12 year old and official grump Josh (the dog) was also in the office and was not in the mood to frolic. “Mood” has more to do with Josh’s hind quarters not functioning so well than it does with his actual mindset. Nevertheless, the two were able to get together and touch base before sniffing each others’ nether-regions just like they do in the human accounting department!
The aforementioned electron blurring his way around the office…
Stops to stare down the old fluffy guy
Then it’s off again!
Look at that right hind leg!
Meanwhile, Josh remains unimpressed with Jeff’s peace offering of “mustache wax”
Josh finally snaps under ZD’s relentless cuteness…
Have a frank and productive weekend. We’re outta here
“Our labor preserves us from three great evils– weariness, vice and riding the trainer.” – Voltaire, Candide
Bloggy is not in the office today as an ice storm has made travelling to work dangerous if not highly aggravating. It’s only hour 5 of the Great Ice-ening of 2014 and my thoughts have turned to darker matters, matters of a most unsavory nature that discretion would advise against and yet, indiscretion has welcomed with open arms, invited over for coffee and given an unwarranted back massage. TheWinter Olympics do nothing for me, the internet as we have already discussed in previous posts is a barren wasteland and the thought of reading printed material ties my bowels in knots. There is only one option remaining: TRAINER TIME!