How to get your ass kicked in an ice race

1) Make tires out of CX tires that are almost too big for your bike, and trim down the studs so they're not so aggressive.

2)Convince friend in Montreal to allow you to couch surf

3)Convince car owning New York friend that its a GOOD IDEA to go ice racing and offer to pay for half the gas

4)Have your papers in order, as well as a story about how the two of you met to not raise suspicion at the border

5)Bring lots of layers of clothing, wear ALL of them.

Saturday started out pretty good. My alarm went off, and I immediately figured out where the coffee was kept in Laura's apartment. I then got to work mounting the snow tires on my Spicer. It took a while, but I was confident that the tire liners were in the right position. A little after 11:00am, we rolled out to the Parc Jean Lance to check out the course. At that point there was only about 8 people there. One person was setting up the sponsorship barriers, and another was taking a pick axe to the ice to break up the larger jagged protrusions. We found out from the organizers that they had gone there with a shovel on the last night it was above freezing, to shovel a track in the snow. Then they dumped water on it.. then it froze and thawed again. We did a few laps. Scary!

My front tire would scratch along the surface of the ice diagonally, until I lowered the pressure to what seemed like under 20psi. Only then would it hold some semblance of a line around the icey hairpin corner. I also dropped down my rear tire so that I could sprint out of the saddle without spinning. That seemed to work well. I had pretty good acceleration out of the corner.. in practice at least. It seemed faster over the bumps too. Almost like my bike had suspension.

People were starting to fill in on courier time. Some set up a mech tent, other set up a soup station, a bbq, and even a BBQ bike. People worked on dialing their setups. Confident I had practiced enough, we went for breakfast at Patiti Patata. Poutine and grilled cheese should give me enough calories to get through the day.

When we got back from breakfast, there were a lot of people there. A big crew from Toronto had showed up and brought a portable propane heater to circle their lawn chairs about. Photographers snapped pics of bikes and racers. People dialed their setups, doing hotter and hotter laps than just an hour earlier.

You could tell the atmosphere was getting serious. People wanted to race, if only to keep warm. At the registration tent, the organizer was stoked to find out we drove up all the way from New York, and then again that we would run in studded class. I guess that was unexpected.

When the race did get started, they had consolidated all racing into two categories, and a number of heats. I guess there wasn't enough of each type of bike to run all of them together. Geared roadies vs. track bikes vs. girls vs. the extracycle vs. the cruisers. They only distinction they made was between studded and rubber class.

My friend Andras was up before me, and did alright. His Kona Paddywagon was set up with risers, single speed, platform pedals and a rear brake. He put his foot down each corner, and managed to do a complete 180° almost every time. Not the fastest way around but at least he stayed up. At one point he put his leg out and it caught on the rear tire of one of the other racers, sucking him into the rear stays. It looked a little painful, and left some marks.

When I was up I was a bit tense. I didn't ride that fast in practice. I found I had to brake MUCH sooner on the slightly downhill straight to keep a line in the corner. I made it around a couple of laps before realizing I was riding on my rear rim. I found out after losing the back end and wiping out in the corner, then trying to hop back on realizing my rim was on the ice.


Sadly, I carried my bike back to the pit and began the painful process of trying to change a tire in -10°C weather.

I missed the next few races, focusing on trying to seat the bead on my tire, cursing at mechanix gloves for not being warm enough, and hating myself for riding on my rim as long as I did. When I got the tire re-inflated, the shoulder studs would hit my chain stay every revolution. This meant I had to do a field truing. I simply wound the spokes half a turn tighter for the area I knocked out, and got the tire to clear the stay. I wasn't even finished, and I was being called to the starting line. I quickly put my mittens back on my frozen hands (over the mechanix gloves), and ran over to start my next race.

I guess I was in the wrong head space at this point. I burst off the line and kept up with the leader who was on a CX bike up to the corner. At that point he out braked me, and peeled off to my left. I went sailing straight into the barrier. I hopped back on, and kept up with the guy at the end of the pack for the next lap.. and promptly sent myself into the barrier the next time I attempted the corner. ..and I got back on.. and was now close to being lapped by the leader... and I think I may have stayed on the bike after that. It was a bit fuzzy. I could only feel two things, pain from my hip, and that my fingers were still frozen. I may have fallen a third time. I definitely finished the race though.

I limped back to my bag where my tools were still scattered in the snow, tossed my bike down, and grabbed a beer. Then I went to huddle around TonyMTL's BBQ bike. They fed me a veggie dog and eventually I started to feel a bit better. I had some ibuprophen as well.

My spirits picked up throughout the afternoon as more people asked me about my hub. That was fun. Though, every time it seemed they asked me the same question en francais. Something about whether it was a 'mountain fixie'

The sun was getting low in the sky and it was getting colder by the minute. They would run the finals with 7 people on the course, instead of 4. Once everyone was on the starting line they tried to figure out how many laps to run it. Once they settled on 10 the organizer blipped the siren on the megaphone and they were off.

The ice had gotten progressively more churned throughout the day, and all of the racers in the final had really good tires, so they tracked as though they were on pavement as they went about the course. You could see them slowing with each painfully cold lap. I was glad to not be racing this late in the day.

A compact guy named Andrew from Ottawa took La Coupe Des Glaces, and we immediately started packing up. A quick roll downhill and we were at BARFLY. A cute little place full of Canadiens paraphenalia from when they won the Stanley cup in 1986. Sonic Youth's cover of The Carpenter's "Superstar" played while the petite barkeep knit herself a sweater.

The racers filtered in and peeled off the layers. It was nice to see what everyone looked like. Eventually they got to the prizes, and amazingly enough, gave us some out of towner prizes. I got some great Netti Windstopper gloves (from Cycles Lambert!) courtesy of Le Grand Cycle L'Atelier. Andras got a nice Cocotte hip pouch.

Later that eve we bundled up again, and made our way across town to go to a quipster party. Riding dry pavement on studded tires is pretty amusing when drunk.

Sunday afternoon we did a fun lap of town with Duncan leading the way and eventually decided it was time to return home to Les Etats Unis. What a trip. Thank you for the lesson in ice racing, Montreal.

Edit: The wifey has illustrated this great MSPaint rendition of this post:



For other photos from the weekend, check out the Flickr Set.

smoking tires, severed spokes and shattered drums

Last night I attended an honest to goodness mechanical roller race in midtown Manhattan. It was a benefit for the CRCA Juniors, titled Onward Christian Rollers


The silly name was because Christian Vande Velde was going to be in attendance (I thought he would be racing, but he just stood around drinking and looking pretty in a vest)

The part that interested me the most about this event was the vintage mechanical roller setup, provided by Bikeworks NYC:


I'm actually not sure if it's fully mechanical, or if the drive cables are sending electric pulses to the display motors, but either way, its rad. The roller drums are super smooth and the bearings spin forever (which is why I'm guessing that it's electromechanical). Here's a shot of the back of the display:



EDIT:
=============
On the middle cylinder of each roller is a sprocket wheel and gear box. By way of a flexible transmission cable, the roller gear box is connected to a similar gear box behind the dial face. This gear box drives it's corresponding arrow on the dial face, by way of a roller belt drive system. The unit is human-powered, mechanically driven, and totally wireless.
=============

I wasn't racing mainly because I don't have enough sprockets/cogs to meet the 90 gear inch max limit, that I knew everyone else would be running. 44/14 would have been close, but 56/16 wouldn't be allowed. Yes, my two big front sprockets are 44 and 56 teeth. I did sort of want to do it with fenders and riser bars though. (not that it matters, but I'm pretty sure the guy on the Pista Concept was running 51/14, which was over the limit.)

Oh well, I paid the cover charge ($20 ouch! NYC isn't cheap) and tried to make the most of the 7-8pm open bar. I helped out my friend Alex by spotting him throughout the night, and watched a lot of gnarly roller crashes.

During warm ups, one guy actually shattered one of the roller drums. He had wound them up to max speed, then tried to stop abruptly. The roller's momentum shot him backwards into the display, and when his front wheel hit the forward rear roller, it exploded. It was amazing though kind of a bummer, because I KNOW Bikeworks won't be able to replace that drum.

Throughout the night there was a lot of sketchy roller crashes. In fact, it was painful to watch some people try and stay on, but that's the beauty of spectating at an event like this. Everyone is an expert. Check out the video footage Alan shot (At 2:15 you can see the roadie in the red/white jersey SMOKING his tire on the platform):



"This is NYC Bike Racing"

After the finals, and the subsequent beer sprints, I had a great drunken ride home through midtown traffic =]

I may have forgot to mention..

Tomorrow is Black Label's 6th annual BIKE KILL!!! \m/


Needless to say, I'm taking the BMX, and wearing protection.

Hiding in the shadows

Good afternoon from Florence, where I've instituted a daily hill ride to maintain sanity. This particular run involves passing cars on the way down, on streets that smell of two stroke engine.

The Super Champion lighter is both my bottle opener and social networking tool. "Incendino", as they call it.

And I got a new hat, in cow print. Beard still in full effect. Miss you guys.

Snow Cunnies

Limited street lighting, snow falling, riding race winning brakeless bikes. Projekt-Brinking, indeed.

...and I heard her exclaim, 'ere she drove out of sight:

"I'm going to fucking Squamish!"

Happy birthday, Crazy Eyes. All hail the Queen!

In life some times there are things you just can't "push up" your way out of

Shred the Gnar

The MC3 ride started out like any other, except for one thing. The turnout was INCREDIBLE. There was probably 150-200 people at the start. Lots of freakbikes, commuters, bmx's and fixies I was stoked, and nervous. "All these people are going to watch me hurt myself."

The ride headed west on National, and we decided it would be in our best interest to get to the spot ASAP to have time to practice and get set up. Once the ride rolled in, we knew we wouldn't be able to hold them back from rolling through the loading dock area. The crowd was just too big. I've never seen so many people at that spot.

Without a megaphone, Morgan had to address the crowd at full volume. Trying to explain the format of the jam. 10 minutes, anything goes, whoever lays down the best trick gets the prize by way of crowd vote.

I kept it low though, mildly airing the lip, abubacas on the bank, and a whole lot of failed 270° tire tap alleyoops. 10 minutes of non stop shredding is tough. I was faded by the end of the second song, and eventually it seemed like I couldn't land anything.

I was able to stomp Nick's bike a bit with my front tire, after he hung it up on the rail. One close call with Ryan too, other than that it was all smooth. I kind of just focused on the concrete, and tried not to hear the collective gasps each time I dropped the bike and ran.

When it was all over, the crowd picked Skylar as their favorite. No surprise there really =] He took the specially decorated bottle of Projekt-Whiskey, and really appreciated it. I think it was the burley 360 over the rail that did it.



It should also be noted that Camilo, Leo, LeoMike and a random kid on a BMX all took a hit or two at the bank on their respective rides. 700cmx.

When everyone was packing up to leave, I watched tall Paul ride his tallbike through the lot, and snag his derailleur in his spokes. Since his bike must weigh 50lbs, and he was towing a trailer of beer, the derailleur had no chance, around it went, and down Paul went. In true Proj-B fashion, we helped him get rid of the derailleur, and singlespeed his bike on the second cog. Not the straightest chainline, but he'd be able to go MC3 speed, and tow that beer. We caught up with the pack right at Granville.

Next up were the BCCLettes, and a whole lot of security. Leanne spoke with them diplomatically at the start, and must have assured them that there would be cute girls dancing,.. because in a few minutes, all the building's security guards were gazing towards the enticing swirls of red and black. They did La Bicicletta, with more people than I've ever seen, and it looked great. I missed the next one though, apparently it was a bit more interpretive.

Next we headed to the upside down church, where Megan Rose did some crazy looped up acoustic numbers. Though plagued with technical difficulties, I think she did alright.

After that was Kablamo. Now, I like capes, and I like the idea of riding around in them.. I don't like Orwellian chants though. I also don't like mock religious ceremonies that end in tomato fights. ..neither did all the people that gathered up front to watch this so called 'performance'.

We then took the seawall and rolled to the entrance of Lord Stanley's park. This was hilarious as a convention had just gotten out, and there were droves of suits walking on the bike path.

The brakes are getting their moves down. Tight choreography for sure. Special cameo by Morgan. I drink. Alison and Andy smoke. Leg is noticeably sore.

...and into the dark we go, West on Lee's trail. The 'clearing' I expected was not so much a clearing, but a spot where the soil had been trampled. I stood around that party socializing for as long as I could, before determining I had to ride home.

A brief stop at Engrish bay to lighten Morgan's load, and we rolled east to the drive for pizza. Another successful MC3 ride will ride on in my head for weeks to come.
________________________________________

In other news, Elite athletes often don't carry bike locks because they're concerned about weight.

I actually missed the triathlon Sunday morning, but did spend the day rollin around main. (its too bad cause I could use some carbon wheels) We hit the new shop SUPER CHAMPION, and checked it out. Nice enough guys, good boutiquey atmosphere. Prices seem reasonable for the stock they've got.

BIKARNIVAL

This friday is the annual MC3 Performance Ride, aptly titled BIKARNIVAL.


Its a rolling party, stopping only to get crazier, as people show off their respective talents. There will be performances by the Brakes, B:C:Clettes, Kablamo, Megan Rose, MC Uberkranker, and even Project-B!

We're hosting an open class street jam, with prizes. So get ready to shred the gnar and go big in front of a crowd. Bring whatever you want, BMX, Urban two sixxer, 700CMX, just get ready to get ill! (no parkour, sorry)

The idea is, we get everyone to the secret street spot, and have anyone who wants to participate in the jam line up along one wall. The rest of the crowd can watch from behind sectioned off areas. We wouldn't want any bike parts to fly up and hit ya in the face! Once the music starts, its a free-for-all on the spot. Our announcer will be letting the crowd know just how tough this stuff is to pull off, and at the end of 10 minutes, you can vote for your favorite trick. The person who garnishes the most cheering get to take the prize =D

<< Margaret Charles Chopper Collective >>
=== PRESENTS ===
BiKarnival - a Performance Ride!
Friday, June 8th
Meet at Science World Gazebo 6:45
Performances start at 7:00
Ride leaves at 7:38 sharp

Scrapin' pavement

My BMX is not a scraper bike.
Yet here I am, scrapin' it.

Lollercaust

Proj-B's east end went out this evening to take advantage of typecasts in the bike community. Yes, Lyle decided it was time to buy a set of post-winter roadie rollers. Attention Everyone: the days are longer and the weather is nice. Time to sell your rollers and do your training on the road. Then you can buy new, upgraded rollers in the fall!

We headed out, BOB in tow, with the tripod to make sure we captured the first moments of new awesomeness in sharp focus. The trip would be wasted without a stop at Kingsgate for some tall cans of Shaftebury. Remember when those were on sale last summer? $1.79 including deposit. That was rad.


As complete newbies to rollers, we thought it would be a good call to learn right away. After loading up, we headed for China Creek North Park to give it a go. We cracked a beer, and got lolling. Lyle was able to get it going without too much trouble, and was soon rockin' it eastside in the grass:



As we realized that rollers on grass was not ideal - they were sinking in - a '63 Impala rolled by on 13" wires, all but dragging the rear bumper. How appropriate. We then took it to the streets, Great Northern Way style:


Unfortunately, the rollers were set up for a longer wheelbase than the tight-angled KHS and, though I was able to get moving on them, it was easy to get bucked off. Lyle's Bianchi was perfect though, and I lolled off into the sunset.


Bikeforums.net's Commuting forum was a fun time today, as Lyle and I both posted in their Show Us Your Dashboard thread. No computers, HID lights, or excessive cables and levers here, folks!




... and continuing on the topic of bicycle typecasting, here is a very well-written, albeit slightly dated (Aug '06) article from PingMag, called "Bike Messenger Style." Whether we'd like to admit it or not, even those of us who don't courier have been pegged in at least some part of this piece; it goes into much deeper detail than the average article. Somehow, it has me wanting to build 40-spoke wheels, just for bling factor.

Our friend Leo is shown in one of the photos, apparently from the book Messengers style (thanks Mark). I'm sure he's got some great stories to accompany that. I really want to do a project with Leo: some type of custom bike, maybe another tall bike. Great conversations with him were a big part of my building the Mielgeot. If not for that, I may not have ridden it through the fountains at Queen Elizabeth Park!


That image was shot at Tuesday's Hey Fixie by Damon, who is from Melburn, and will be over here for the next while. He's very excited to get involved with the Vancouver bike scene, with plans to help map bike routes and gain knowledge by becoming immersed in another city's bike culture. Imagine going to Critical Mass in another large city... Damon gets to do that in Vancouver for the first time this month. Eventually I hope to do something similar - possibly the 15th anniversary CM in San Francisco in September. Anyone in for that?

Back to the subject of the PingMag article, another consideration is their mention of the flowing, high speed urban riding that "couriers" are known for. With both Nick and Lyle having had car-bike incidents (on bikes with brakes) in the past couple weeks, I've been pondering is whether car-bike incidents are higher in amount of occurrences, but less dangerous overall when riding a very assertive style in traffic.

We associate such riding with an oft-used label on this blog, and a term we use to describe ourselves, which has an almost-accurate description on wikipedia: hoon. Yes, we share a moniker with a group of Australian street racing, car modifying hoons. Definitely one for the B-Tionary. Primer grey anyone?

The part about "consensual sodomy amongst the tribal adult males" is a bit odd and, considering the well-reported-ness of the rest of the article, seems like it almost might be a joke. Well, Camilo and Skylar, we've yet to see that one through - but that's a topic for a completely different blog.

I know we make some fairly complicated manoeuvers and, though we have run-ins with cars, we often see them coming in advance and have already slowed down to expect it. When riding in a group, we communicate with each other very well, informing of bus signals and the like. So, back to the original question: higher amount of incidence, less catastrophic results? Or am I just making all this up?

In terms of injury, Project-B has a much higher rate of getting hurt riding BMX at the skatepark or falling off a proficiently trackstanded tall bike because someone grabbed the rear triangle to "help out." Who knows, maybe someone will injure themselves trying to learn how to ride backwards on the new rollers or, even worse, riding them on a tall bike.

Everybody wins at the MC3 ride!

Since Lyle and Nick have already shown you their prizes from Friday's MC3 ride, I thought I'd make it a full round. My new 16" Haro BMX performed flawlessly, taking high speed stair rides and 180s off ledges like a champ. The aforementioned hoonery was no doubt a factor in the rear wheel damage incurred by the rest of the B-Team.

You may be wondering, "if the mini came out unscathed, what's the prize?" See Exhibit A: a bruise that extends from above the ankle right down to the sole of my foot, accompanied by some nice looking scrapes. From now on, the mini will be ridden with my Hammer 2Z shin pads.


In my travels today, I found a 44T Haro BMX ring for $1.00, which will fit on the mini even if it requires use of the "bmx tool" (more widely known as a hammer). With its 16T freewheel and 16" wheels, this will give me 44 gear inches - a 22% gain over the previous 36/16 ratio. Hopefully that will help me hold off from doing a cassette conversion on the mini just a bit longer.

According to my calculations...

My kill ratio for the last month is averaging one wheel per week, and the MC3 ride/travelling circus attracted just under 60 boozehoons - and it's only fucking April.

Yesterday had it all: Project Breakfast; a solid wrenching session at Lyle's with Brandon's new POOOOK (sexy crown, yes) as special guest star; the best damn Americano I've ever had; pre-noon tall cans; porchbeers with Kelly (who is now the new Skylar not by virtue of BMX prowess but by virtue of me stealing beers from her Chrome); the MC3 ride deteriorating into alcohol-fuelled hoonery before even departing the GZBOH; non-BMX things breaking by virtue of being ridden like BMX things; the calling of footdown derby; and Camilo's bike being recovered by none other than the vigilant eyes of Mr. Paul Artel.

Mood: fly
Music: Thirstin' Howl III & Rack-Lo: Lo Down and Dirty

More Proj-B footage

[VIDEO REMOVED DUE TO VIOLATION OF PROJECT-B CONTENT POLICY]

This is for our upcoming 'Road hoons' video. We buildin' the hype now so you can be assured a quality product.

Well, this about sums it up

We tend to field a fair amount of questions as to what this Project-B thing is all about. Thus far, this is the best definition I've come across - three drunk guys laughing at each other while trying to make their bicycle trying to do something it wasn't really designed to be doing in the first place:



It's like Lumber Jetta, only with more bike. Also, back around these parts, that log would be destined to be used as a BMX tool.

Also, I left the house for Critical Mass yesterday with eight beers and a mickey of scotch in my bag. I returned with nothing.

'twas a fine day for the sport of kings out on the Grandview park polo grounds today, though. Haley was giving it like a Skylar/Tenten skid battle and bleeding about as much. Word persists of various bike nerd gatherings tonight and a FUCK A $25 RANDO, SON. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BEER I CAN GET AT KINGSGATE FOR $25? ride out to Richmond tomorrow.

Fresh over-peg and nose manual-to-barspin poachings from The Come Up. Close your eyes during the dorps to falt, turn the volume off, and bump the new Crime Mob instead:

Mini Bike Winter IV

"What we're doing here, is having free fun. A lot of people don't like that. They'll tell you its dangerous." - Rev Phil

Zoobomb badass challenge, Start the games.

7 hours in a car will do strange things to a person.
It will make you want to ride your bike straight up a mountain in the middle of the night, in order to be the first to light an Olympic torch. It will make you get lost at the top of that mountain and ride around radio towers and cemeteries while yelling 'ZOOBOMB!?!?' into the cold air trying to find the torch lighting ceremony. Your lungs are burning, your legs are ripping apart. You see a familiar motorbike, you keep gaining altitude, through the fog. To the top.

Note that the end of the race is at the 5.8km mark.

At least I'm not the only Canadian to get lost on this mountain. Jeff managed to end up in Beaverton, and didn't get home until 5am, after checking every quadrant of Portland for his billet's house.

From the park at the top, we did a 'family bomb' with EVERYONE riding down at once. This was hilarious, as I was taken out by Simon's bike within the first 200m during a massive minibike pileup. I think he clipped Morgan's rear tryke wheel before going down. As soon as I hit the ground I went to fetal position and awaited the impending wheels. We all ended up with mini tire tracks all over our bodies. I'm not too badly rashed, but Simon took it in the face. I'm just glad he borrowed my helmet before the event.

Tired, and cold, we hit Voodoo Donuts where I had one that bore a striking resemblance to my last sprocket (hail Satan). Riding the sugar train late into the night, Shantastic led us over the Broadway drawbridge (no stopping or the Pepper will get ya) to Cap'n Fun's pad.

Roman Day

Organic Fair trade served in strange mugs and salsa containers met sleep filled eyes, under the North Portland sun. Bikes and chariots were tuned on Skidmore. A posse descended to the Undernook mostly via the bike routes, doing a quick mississippibomb along the way.

Slowly they came. The Dropouts, the Dead babies, the Sprockettes, the MC3, a film crew, and of course all of ZOOBOMB arrived at the undernook for breakfast. Dan managed the grille like he was a robot from Franz Bakery. He also had the smarts to bring case upon case of PBR to be sold. Let the games begin! A simulated Project-Bon's breakfast, consisting of speed-over eggs, hashbrown brickage, Avocrabo and PBR had me in the mood to get my hoon on. Morgman too. 540's and Project-Dorifto. The guy from Crankmychain took an interest in us, so that was fun. No Project interviews yet, mind you.

Drag races, in drag, dragging on cigarettes, and dragging a sled. Hilarious. Then the Chariot Whiplash. This made me cry I was laughing so hard. I didn't compete in these events, but had fun spectating, trying out Dead Baby bikes, and working on artistic cycling moves on minibikes. Sorry about crashing your Pink Pussy Rhiannon =D

After the events were over, we made a slow mass North along the waterfront through the Port-land. We hit a remote 7-11, and hundreds of bikers politely lined up to deplete their supply of alcohol. I got the last three sparks, but they were sugar free. The aspartame does make it taste kind of funny. Funnier than energy beer normally tastes.

Ahh, drunk in the sun. Where are we going?
After passing the Coast Guard property we hit a cul-de-sac where we were led down a path. I was at the front and inquired where this path led.

"Pirate town" someone said.

I guess the EPA lists this as a 'superfund' site due to the environmental damage from having industry here for so long. Derelict warehouses, obsolete piers, slippery ladders, holes in the ground. I started to feel bad about scoffing at the use of 'post apocalyptic' to describe the chariot battles earlier. This really fit the bill.

I did some exploring, skidded through the warehouses, and climbed the roof of what would soon become a violent battleground. Slowly I watched the convoy of deathcycles and chariots roll in. Cheers were shouted, horns were sounded. Tensions were high. No one knew quite what to expect. Before the battle I tried jumping the railroad tracks, and pinch flatted my back tire, denting the wheel too. I had brought a tube, but didn't feel like going through the hassle of removing the wheel/brake, and so I patched it and got the kittenchopper back together.

Out on the Pier, I met Cupcake, who wanted me to help him find wood to fashion a ramp to jump into the water. I declined his Cupcake challenge, unsure of what pilings and bacterial cultures awaited in the water 40' below.

The next half hour was a blurred roar. I've never seen such violence take place in the name of fun. Grown adults hitting each other with blunt objects. The crowd was screaming, empty beer cans were thrown at the gladiators. [As a side note, I don't think anyone was actually hurt during this event] When the dust settled, there was one gladiator left. Lost boy Jeff, who looked remarkably composed in his disheveled toga.

Cupcake then announced that he was starting his challenge. There’s a good shot of him flying towards the river on one of the flickr sites. As things wound down, someone mentioned that the Pepper were on their way down the road from the university [Possibly because Rabbit tried to jump on a passing train], so we mounted our steeds and started clearing out. We passed single occupant squad car after single occupant squad car. Must be a lonely job.

One would think that a simple roll out of the university would be okay after such an epic battle.. but no.
Someone went down on the bike lane. Our parties were split up and much confusion ensued. Who was hurt, who was waiting for who.. Where were Haley and Nick? I went back and found them, working on Haley's bike in the flashing lights of the fire truck. It seems her dropout had opened up due to the funky coaster brake washer setup. I BMX-tool'ed it back into shape on the curb, and got it rolling again, albeit without brakes. As well, Morgan flatted a tryke wheel, and was gangsta leanin to keep it movin.

Once the confusion was quelled, zoobomb Shawn directed us to a Mexican Restaurant out on Alberta and 20th. Pretty decent place, and the football match on the tele was in Espanola. Our next mission was to find Sparks, before the meetup to ride to the secret party spot. No problem. A corner store that had not been ransacked by bikers was found. I purchased Sparks Black, as I'm such a discerning Sparks connoisseur.

Thanks to Simon, we got to try the lower level bike path on the Steel Bridge, en route to the meetup spot. Pretty clever use of architecture if you ask me. Once we were there on the promenade, I let a few more Dead Babies try out my bike. It was then that I realized why my seat felt uncomfortable. Those heavyweights were bending my seat post!

Once again the Pepper showed up to monitor us (which everyone in Portland was completely used to), so we made our roll to the party spot. An emptied bike shop entitled 'The Recyclery'. If you were an animal, what kind would you be? A sleepy cat for sure. Curled up in a ball off stage. I've never really had a thing for furries, they're the deviants that even creep me out. Having said that, the animal themed fashion show was still pretty hot. Following that were performances by the Sprockettes and then Show me the Pink. I've got footage I should probably Youtube.

Riding home from the party was an adventure as well. Rhiannon and I found the Franz Bakery, where you can see the remarkable throughput of bread their machines are capable of, through large plate glass windows. We then met up with Turbo and his girlfriend, who led us back North under Lloyd centre, and up 14th to Gabe's.

Greek Day

Much slower. My hip hurts, my knees hurt, my calves hurt. I make the coffee and rouse the troops. We miss the Hostel brunch. Dang. Gabe and Shannon direct us to go eat on Belmont. I grab some Hookworms from Pol. We hit the Paradox.

We run into Cupcake on the bike route, and he asks us if we want to see something crazy. Coming from the guy who just jumped off a 40' high pier into questionable water, I couldn't resist. YES! We want to see something crazy. He walked us back to his and Dogeye’s place, where we saw the sweet Mad Maxx’d Ducati laid out in pieces on the ground. The steerer tube was sheared at the fork crown, but the frame looked okay. Sweet Cuppin Cakes then pointed at the gas tank.

"See that dent?"

"Oh Dear God."

Dogeye then leaned out the window and explained the accident. Upon impact with a car his junk was crammed into the gas tank. He provided the evidence. That image does not need to be documented to be remembered. I still want a motorcycle though.

We got to the games and I was already feeling beat. "I should have trained more on this sled" I thought, as I swapped the good tires on, to replace the bulging corded stroller tires I had been skidding through. This day is a bit hazy. I wasn't drunk or anything, but I just kind of zoned out and watched the action. I tried out the harness, and tested the sturdiness of the ramp.. but that’s about it. Then I went for coffee at Tiny's. There was about 5 bikes out front. 3 of which were ghetto single speeded. Is this what a Vancouver bike rack will look like in a year? Probably not.

I couldn't take the trip to Freegeek and more socializing, so I went back to Gabe's for a nap. Rhiannon gave me a wonderful massage that put me right out. I awoke with just enough time before the race to load up the car with the bikes.

Geared up and ready to roll, we waited at the Pile. I was nervous, I'll admit. Maxxed up for the first time, hanging my bike on a hook..

How many Zoobombers can you fit on the Max?

One more.

N+1

At the top Rev. Phil gave us a briefing, and then we headed to the road to start the race. The mini class was to go last, so I rode up the hill a bit to warm myself up. I lined up at the start, foot on crank, ready to push. A count down from ten, then we hit it. I blasted out from the gate in about 5th place, and quickly muscled my way up to third.

Getting up beside Gabe I gave him a quick 'Sup G fresh?!' greeting to let him know I was going to have fun with him on the way down. I turned on my front blinkie so he would see me flashing in his peripheral the whole way. This is where it got fast. I guess Gabe is used to spinning those short cranks, because they were a blur. I mimed his body language around each corner, snaking his line, and got my sprint on at the same times he did. His tuck style was tight though, and I couldn't compete with that lack of frontal area, even with my hands on the cross bar.

I was in second now. I just have to stick on him, then attack after the last sharp corner. Which one was it? Aren't we near the bottom?

We did the last big right hander and Gabe started to hammer. SHIT! that was the one! I was sprinting as fast as my 175s with BMX flats would allow, and had almost caught up by the time we hit the crosswalk.

Second place. Not bad for my second Bomb ever.
This was probably the happiest I had been all weekend, as I was just relieved to survive the race. The events of the weekend spun in my head over and over. Is this much free fun really possible?

We headed back up the Max to do the Kingston bomb.. which was the route I originally took up the mountain on Friday. That was a pleasant slow roll to Legoland. The site of the final Minibike games. We were all pretty faded, and had to accept the fact that we couldn't stay in Portland forever. It was best to roll out then.

The trip back was pretty good too. I drove until my eyes decided not to focus, then handed over driving duties to Morgan while I passed out in the back cuddling Haley. Rhiannon did a bang up job of not letting Morgan doze off, despite her babbling about hexidecimal notation.

"Oh.. flashing lights. Morgan is getting a ticket" I thought as I woke up.. Morgan was confident he wasn't speeding though. I think it may have had something to do with my winter tires being the wrong diameter, and knocking the speedo off a bit. Either way, the trooper just ran our tags and let us go off into the night..

..and before I knew it we were back in Canadia.
Back to life, back to reality.

I would like to thank EVERYONE who helped make this weekend possible. If you are ever in Vancouver, I will strive to show you the best time on two wheels I can.
Thank you so much, Zoobomb.

I didn't include many pictures or videos in this post, as there are already a billion of them floating about on the net.

Here are some handy links:

Gabe's Flickr

DennyT's Flickr

Butterbits' Flickr

Dumptruck's Flickr

Bikeportland's Flickr

Dontbecreepy's Flickr

Nag Mike's Flickr

Haley's Flickr

..and Simon's youtube footage:

I need a weekend off.
St Valentines race on the kittenchopper? Think I can place?

Operation Meow: Race Recap

This is where I write up a big ol' detailed race report..

Okay.. so where to start..
When you last heard from me, I was as hyped as could be, exploding with energy, at the thought of the race. I'm not even sure why I was so excited. I don't get nearly as excited about regular alleycats. I guess I just saw this as more fun, less messenger bravado.

Morgan and I rolled to Victory square for 5:30. There we met up with Members of the MC3, RAD, Kablamo, and a whole bunch of other cyclists. We hung out there for a couple hours actually, as we were still waiting on the Portlanders to arrive in their Biodiesel bus. We received confirmation that they were on their way via text, so the start of the race was postponed.

I saw a couple old faces at Victory square too. I wasn't expecting them so in a way it was kind of nice. Everyone grew antsy. Some were cold. Mini laps started being run around the statue at the square. Everyone took a spin on the Projekt-B kittenchopper.

Jackie and I get our war faces on:


..and another shot of Jackie's hot ride:


Average wheel diameter of 15":


Nick B's Kuwahara has mags AND a handlebar for a seatpost:


Haley's modded mini:


Nigel's Ultramini (big ring, handlebar post):


Ifny (Alleykitten queen) is ready for action:


There is a 'best dressed' contest, and a mini footdown derby while we wait. I practice standard rituals to calm my nerves. I absolutely cannot wait to get into traffic. Finally, the Portlanders arrive, and we rejoice! They find bus parking, and we all line up for the start of the race. I guess its about 7:30 at this point. The Pre-race tension is now very high. Everyone is super hyped and ready to roll.

We get our maps to the first checkpoint, and this is where things start to become a blur...
On your marks, get set.. .and GO!


[I'll try to recall the events of the race in Chronological order, as they went screaming through my head]

Mini traffic BLASTS on to Hastings street, heading westbound. We stop a BMW in its tracks.I accelerate past a lot of people, and see my only real competition. Nick B.

I time the light at Hastings and Homer, riding the yellow line to get around a bus and car that are stopped. I reel in Nick, getting a feel for his top speed. I think he's got some RPM on me with the shorter cranks, and all the track racing experience. Also, his bike probably weighs a third of mine... but I've got a bigger gear. We exchange pleasantries as I pass him, ..and I decide not to check him to the curb.

Okay.. I'm heading to the underground at Burrard/Cordova.. I can handle this..
The light at Seymour is red and there are cars coming through, so I go right with them and merge over to the left lane. I start to second guess myself. This is a bad move. I just lost a bunch of altitude. I scream past the taxis waiting at the lights in front of Waterfront station, and blow the following two lights to get to the ramp. As I go down the cut that takes me underground that self doubt creeps in again.. What if I've already past the checkpoint?.. I'm going too fast down this ramp!

I see the bikers around the bend, lock up the rear, and report for Beer Prime duty.
Fuck yeah! Winning back our own beer! ..and this means I'm in the lead.

I do a shot, and possibly some pushups? I cant remember. but I got a new mission.
Upsidedown church in coal harbour.. I know where that is.. But why do I have to run up the stairs? wouldn't the ramp be faster? Not wanting to miss anything, I run up the stairs, and see 3-button-Lefttennant-pastor Maitland reading scripture. I address him as Sir and try to understand what the Mini Bike army is Offical doing (Sir! This is engrish sir! What is the Mini Bike army official doing SIR?!) Maitland tries not to laugh, and continues reading scripture aloud. I realize his gig is to stall people. I say fuck it, grab a MiniBikeArmy pin, and head back to Checkpoint #1, taking the ramp and getting my skid on past some racers heading out to see Maitland.

Back at checkpoint #1 there is a small crowd of racers, doing their shots. I confirm the purpose of the minibike army is to distract racers through nonsensical scripture and distribute buttons. They ask me what colour his bible was.. Red? good.

New map from Adam.. somewhere in the west end. I'll go down Burrard and read it as I go.

I must have lost some time here, going south on Burrard. I worried that I should have doubled back and gone west once I got to street level. Too late now. Just hustle. Robson/Burrard is always a treat, and I time it close enough to blast through the intersection as the yellow turns pink. I've got a pedestrian buffer here, so I'm not worried about getting killed.

Where do I turn.. Haro? wheres that? Around the Paramount? I better go West.. As it turns out, I take the street that becomes Haro, though it probably added a few meters to trip.

..who's there when I arrive? its Nick B.. eating Gruel.

Sgt. Skylar is a Sadistic fucker, and makes us privates sit down and eat two heaping spoonfuls of gruel from our open hands. After that, we may take a War card from the garden, and our new map.

I leave at the same time as Nick and go North back to Robson. I think about how I should have taken ALL of the war cards I saw... apparently I'm no good at cheating. It seems I'm going to somewhere near the art gallery.

Approaching Robson and Burrard, this time I have to stop. I wait at the front of line, ready to go.. scanning around me to look for Nick. Perpendicular Yellow means its time to go! I stop a hesitant left turner and sprint past the megastore towards the gallery.

Crossing Thurlow I'm hit with the bottleneck of Robson traffic, so I ride the yellow line again, and cut as hard left as my long wheelbase will allow. I narrowly make it through the gap in front of a slow moving compact car and hop the curb towards the Gallery's South steps. As I roll past the entrance I scan down the stairs to the ice rink to see if they're there.. Nope..

I see the checkpoint across the street.. thankfully there is no traffic so I cross mid block, to report for duty with the lovely CorporAlicia. She whips me with my own riding crop, and sends me underground to search for Army men in an envelope. I hit the ramp with the quickness, veer right, then slow my roll.

All low light and peripheral scanners are on max now. No traffic to distract me here.. I'll find these envelopes.. Anything that catches my eye becomes a target.. but its all trash. I continue searching south.. until I catch up with some Bigwheelers.. its Kati, Kim and Simon. I politely ask WTF SIR!?!?! Kati tells me to go back to the first pillar.

As I do this, I find Nick.. we're searching the area together, and find a sketchy dude who tells us where to find more pylons. I SAID I'M LOOKING FOR ARMY MEN! I sift through more garbage. My scanners failed. I failed to look up to the right height. I overturn pylons. The envelope was in front of me the whole time. I grab my army man, note that Nick is looking in the other direction, and I take off.

Morgan has passed the pillar and is descending too far.. so I quietly tell him to double back and look on the pillar. I see him turn a quick tryke-180 in my peripheral. Surely that will tip Nick off.

At the south end of the underground, I see Sascha. They take my army man, and give me the next map.
I'm going to Beatty street at Dunsmuir. I can handle that.

Nelson to Granville street crosswalk skid, scaring pedestrians and cutting off a taxi. Through the one way at Smithe, gapping traffic. I pass cars on Granville.. oh yeah, they let cars on granville now. Hitting Robson, I go right, on the side of at turning car.. I get in front, and take the left lane. I make my left onto Seymour, and stick to the door zone of the leftmost parked cars until I find a gap to move right. I work it up the hill and get on Georgia. There I start to claim the lane, but realize how slow traffic is going.. There are the big wheelers! Kati, Kim, and Simon appear stationary to me at the Library as I pass them, splitting the left and centre lane down Georgia as fast as my gearing will allow. They yell something at me. .. I hope they're not my next checkpoint. I would hate to have to wait for them.

I fall in behind a black F-350 that is making the left turn at Beatty. A cop is blowing his whistle.. there must be a game on. I grab his bumper and he accelerates hard up Beatty. Skitching seems dicey here, because this guy seems like he could be looking for somewhere to park his truck. He pulls me right up to the tank, where I disengage, and hop the crub, reporting to Major Aiyana for my next mission..

They make me do 20 pushups...which was no problem.. my helmet touched the ground on each one. Then the hard part, I have to raise my bike over head while they take a photo. I scream at Aiyana. SIR DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MY BIKE WEIGHS SIR?!?! Then.. I have to climb the tank, straddle the barrel, and kiss the kitten (not at the same time).. I then slide down the front of the tank and recieve my next map.

National and Quebec.. Shit. Viaduct or tinseltown!?!?!

I choose viaduct, hoping that I might skitch on a truck. As I roll out west, claiming the right lane, I sort through my pockets to find the maps.. I should have thrown out the old ones before, as this made for some confusion. Someone honks at me from behind.. and with one map in my mouth, I crumple the other map and throw it at his car. He continues honking and buzzes past me. Changing lanes isn't so hard now is it?

Down the ramp and into a big skid in between a truck and the jersey barrier. I double back and go east to Quebec. The light just changes in my favour and I hit it to National.

Fuck. No bikers. I search around the parking lot.
Nick B arrives (surprise), and he cannot find them either. Thinking that the parking lot is a terrible place for a checkpoint, I head in to the playground, booting it across the grass, hopping into the mulch, dropping the bike and reporting for duty with Sgt Leanne. She tells me to take my bike around the slide and report to Colonel N1ck.

"Private you are going to cyclocross that tank up the hill to come address me!"

Shit. This thing weighs a tonne right now. I cannot run up the hill. I just make sure my footing is stable on the wet grass.

Dumping the bike and my bag, I roll down the hill to the obstacle course. I try to jettison myself into the air each roll to not only minimize the grass stains, but to get more distance per revolution and not disorient myself. Through the gauntlet and the maze house.. which I could barely get my shoulders through. There Sgt Leanne makes me do another 20 pushups in the mud, and drink a shot.. I cannot recall which order those were in.. then crawl back up the hill towards N1ck.

N1ck - "Have you had enough yet Private?!!"

me (blubbering) - "SIR YES SIR LIFES NOT FAIR AND I WANT MY MOMMY SIR!"

N1ck - "Get out of my sight, maggot!"

I mount my tank for the last time and blast down the embankment I just hiked up, and make an all out sprint for the finish.. Too scared to look back and see Nick, I just hammer.

I report to Simon at 108W 1st.. and thats it. I'm done. 35 minutes.

Apparently my crying routine at the last checkpoint saved me from having to eat a raw onion. I'm pretty stoked about that.

I then went in and started scrubbing the grease paint that Skylar had so liberally applied to my face. Industrial kitchen degreaser works well, but it hell on the pours. At the party I got my trickcycle on, attempted drifts for Sailor's camera, track stand tricks on Morgan's bike, and some minibike derby action. I worked at the bar for a bit too, and it was fun getting people trashed.

There was an awards ceremony, where I received a dope modded mini frame from Skylar, and a cute as nails trophy from KTJ. I also took the cash... which should come in handy modifying the kittenchopper for zoobomb duty in a couple of weeks.


I gave the Beer to the Portlander's simply because I already had more than enough booze, and they made such an effort to get out here.. DID I MENTION THE BUS IS BIODIESEL! BRILLIANT!

I should also mention that there were performances by 2 of the Sprockettes:


Kablamo:


Brakes (featuring Little Woo):


..and Brakes featuring some B:C:Clettes in a dance off:


..and headlining were Victoria's Velo Vixens. OMG.


I guess I maintained a good level of drunk all evening, because I wasn't too far gone by the time my energy reserves were depleted. Rhiannon on the other hand was a saucy drunk bitch, but that made for good times as well.

Seriously fun weekend all around...and as a bonus, My Gmail is now giving me Kitten related advertising:

Shut Down Bonsai Kitten - peta2.com - You can help shut them down by signing the petition now!

ITS GONNA TAKE A MONTAGE!!

A MINI TRAINING MONTAGE!
(MONTAGE!)

ATTENTION!
Y'all best be worried.
PROJ3KT-B reppin' all over the place today at OPERATION MEOW and BIKES INSIDE!

Haley, NickB and I got our mini-training on Thursday.

We did a good 10km of minicore action. Mini-drops, mini-jumps, minice, mini-pipez, we're ready for whatever mini-shit you hit us with.

Everyones been warnin' me bout the checkpoints too.
Talkin' smack, sayin' how we are gonna get mini-worked. I'm not scared. Bring it on. I've done basic training at C.F.B. Duncan biatches! Field combat exercises, target practice, pushups in the mud, wilderness survival, climbing rope, all that shit. My gun is clean and ready to fire.

Morgan has also been training for tonights fixie trick comp.
Just a bit of what is in store:


N1ck has been up in Skidgate mall, workin' the liquor store to hooks everyone up with some Pilz-Cube^3 action for Checkpoint #1 PROJ3KT-B33R PR1M3Z!!!1.

I've been coffee-wrenching on the PROj3KT-B TEAM VEHIKILLZ all mownin' SO YOU KNOW WE SERIOUS!

TOP SECRET SPY SHOT:

If ya don't know whats goin on in this pic, then you gonna find out at the race.

LATEST UPDATE 14:35:
N1ck: Word from Lauren is that the Rev forgot his ID and they had to drop him from the peloton. Portland crew is in Seattle, might be delayed.

LETS HOPE THE ZOOBOMB CREW CAN BOMB THROUGH THE BORDER TO BATTLE OUR MINIBIKE ARMY ON CANADIAN SOIL!

Be @ Victory Square (Cambie/Hastings) today, at 17:30 for all the action!

MMMCCC333

On the second Friday every month, the Margaret Charles Chopper Collective invites Vancouver out to ride. I decided the gravity-powered Tryke would be appropriate for the MC3 ride, as it usually goes at a slower pace than the other rides I frequent. With temperatures from -5 to -7 and windchills from -10 to -12, it was decided beforehand that we would meet at Asiana Sushi on Terminal rather than at the gazebo.

After meeting Lyle at his house, we headed down Adanac to McLean, skirting the hills due to icy streets and my steed's lack of drivetrain. When we reached 1st Ave, there was a fair bit of traffic. When it finally cleared up, I took off down the hill toward Clark, threading between the two lines of cars stopped at the light. It went green just at the right moment, and I was able to get across Clark and on to the viaduct without pushing.








In fine MC3 style, the entire stairway and railing outside Asiana was covered in a variety of wheeled machines. Consequently, the inside was full of mischievous eastvan bike geeks. As the menu was 40% off, we ordered a lot of food. N1ck and I shared the tempura onion rings, which were even better than expected. Sushi trades to all corners of the table without regard for STDs (Sushi Transmitted Diseases). With bellies full and spirits high, we suited up to brave the cold.

The Tryke was well-received. Since it was a production model apart from my parts upgrades, it doesn't carry the street cred of most of the MC3 rides. However, it does qualify for freak bike status. It didn't take long to reacquaint myself with the handling characteristics, and I was soon jumping stairs, doing 180s, barspins, and x-up manuals - quite the spectacle. The MC3 ride could be mistaken for a circus parade, which would in turn make me a circus within a circus.

We rolled up Main with Crab Park as a destination, the group evoked its usual happy cheers from onlookers. As we came to the Georgia Viaduct, I was at the front of the group, and eyed the snow-covered hill between the eastbound and westbound lanes. I decided to run up to the top, and as I did so, the rest of the riders stopped at the bottom to watch - leaving a gap large enough for me to drop off the rock wall at the bottom, across the sidewalk and on to Main St.

When I got to the top, the line looked gnarlier than I had anticipated. A snow-covered, bumpy slope, leading to a small drop, and off the curb into the street. From below, shouts of "you're clear!" resounded, and with a push I was off. Exhilarating, and flawlessly executed - Go Monkey Go - I remembered how fun riding Trykes was.

I took a well-deserved rest, grabbing N1ck's seatstay for a tow up to Hastings, at which point he informed me that I would have to ride the brick banks at 222 Main. I didn't turn down the challenge, and was able to pull off a couple of bankrides. N1ck also hit it up on his Olmo - Project-B represent! I pushed up the overpass at the north end of Main, and got into a peg-grab tuck on the downside, while N1ck laughed his ass off from behind.

The Crap Park pier was snowy, which is arguably better than the other option of greasy wet lumber. Initiated by Leanne putting her frozen feet in Kati and Amy's respective crotches, I volunteered my new gloves and warm hands to help bring the toes back to life. Maitland showed up and gave Leanne a spare pair of socks. Donald lit up the BBQ bike while a VPD car looked on from the parking lot. They did a drive-through of the park loop, but didn't come out to talk to us. We shared Jagermeister and Fireball. Kati drew a circle in the snow, and she and I had an impromptu series of sumo wrestling matches, which culminated in me taking a stumbling/running faceplant in the white stuff.

Kati and I were the first out into the parking lot when everyone was getting ready to go. I found a completely solid puddle of smooth ice, and took my stable three-wheeler through its paces. I was able to do slide 180s, and then completed three sliding 360s! Fun! When the rest of the group came out, I got N1ck's attention among everyone else, and proceeded to do a 270 to elbow/hip slide. Nice. Kati was the only witness to the completed 360s.

Kati went into workhorse mode and towed me at high speed through the Canada Place tunnel. I let go as we got to the hill that curves up and on to Cordova. In the next block, there is a sequence of two six stair sets on the south side of the street. I couldn't resist, and hit it once before the group showed up. As more bikers rolled up, I hit it again, this time with a lot more speed. I aired the second set a fair distance, got bucked off on the landing, and ended up running into the street. I couldn't have that be my final attempt, and went to hit it again as the last of the group arrived. This time I was in full control, and had so much speed that I rolled right on to Cordova with cars coming. The Tryke's quick turning ability paid off, as I was able to cut back to the curb unscathed.

By this point I was getting pretty tired, and was grateful that everyone on big bikes was willing to tow me. All the way down Cordova and Powell to the Princeton, where we once again covered the sidewalk with bikes, and took over the dance floor. Another foot warming session with Leanne. A group of degenerate fixie kids had assembled at Louise's place and made their way down as well. Cheap pitchers and good times had by all. We finished off the night with a trip up to Four Brothers Pizza, where my Tryke was fondled by the likes of Claire, Tim, Simon, and Skylar.

The MC3 maintains their high energy and go-anywhere attitude, proving that all you need are wheels and friends to enjoy yourself - even during one of the coldest winters in a long time. Thanks for another great night.

EVERYBODY DANCE

Point form Project update

-Project-Pho is both educational and delicious. The vietnamese coffee is like liquid meth. No. Not like. It IS liquid meth.

-It seems the only way for Louise to out ride me, is to out drink me first. I can't keep up through Coal harbour without pedal strike. We portage over downed trees in Lord Stanley's cruising area. Louise says Hi to every man she sees.

-N1ck calls a Project-Breakfast meeting, then flails.

-LTR3 is officially owned by Project-B. We're going back Wednesday night to own the LTRace. Note: wear a lighter Jersey.

-Momentum's Harmonizer Party is off the hook. B:C:Clettes rock it THRILLER style, I die a happy zombie:



-Clancy's Angel's are alright. But everyone agrees Clancy must be stopped. The Tuxedo shirt Christian is pretty cool though.

-Sadly I don't win that Chrome bag I so desparately need.

-The quad-turntablists were just getting their electro on when we decided to leave.

-Reverse delta formation all the way out West to the UBC endowment lands to escort a lovely 'Clette and her station wagon Centurion. (carrying two panniers, two extra wheels, and a set of fenders)

-Back downtown for some Pizza, and road rage from our commercial vehicle driving friends.

-We hit the top of the Alley Kitten parkade to relax and reflect.

-Sunday's bike craft fair was pretty cool. Most of the patches and stickers you've already scene. Good thing I didn't set up a table for top tube cozies. That market was covered. I scored a Sprockettes Calendar, with no holes. DIY.

This was my last weekend in town, before heading to the frozen tundra of Hoth Alberta. I like to think that I made the most of it. Things seem to be falling into place. I've got goals for the upcoming year, and lots more fun to look forward to.