Old Dog, new bikes

October 18, 2009 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 21 Comments

If you’ve ever wondered why so many Coloradans seem inexplicably insane, consider this: Last Sunday it was about 22 outside, with black ice coating every horizontal surface. Today, it was 81 and sunny. This sort of meteorological inconsistency tends to mess with a person’s mind.

I was on the job for VeloNews.com, but it was a slow news day, as in practically motionless, so I slipped out for a couple leisurely hours of rolling terrain on the red Steelman. What a pleasure to be riding sans undershirt, arm warmers, knee warmers, winter gloves, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Just the bibs and jersey, for modesty’s sake.

While out and about I happened upon Dennis the Menace, who was fresh from a running race at Bear Creek and cycling home. I kept him company and just short of arrival we noticed that Big Bill McBeef’s door was open, so we paused to harass him.

Imagine my surprise when the sonofabitch pops the garage open to display two brand-new bikes — a Giant full-susser mountain bike and a Douglas carbon road machine that weighs under 16 pounds, or just a few grams more than my left tit.

McBeef was one of the last of the Original Dogs still riding titanium DBR road and mountain machinery from the mid-Nineties, Usuck O’Neill and I being the other two. Now it’s just Usuck and me. I was tempted to raise my voice in righteous indignation until McBeef told me he had originally intended to buy a new car with the money.

This way, I figure, some of his money could find its way into my pocket, should increased ad buys from Giant and Colorado Cyclist lead to more paying work for Your Humble Narrator. Then maybe I can afford my own carbon wonderbike. Or breast-reduction surgery.

Dog day afternoon

October 17, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

I went out to spectate at today’s Sand Creek Fall Classic, thinking I’d catch a bit of the action, snap some pix, then roll off for a nice, long ride on the revamped red Steelman.

Hah. Yeah, right.

Instead I stood around in various spots for the better part of quite some time, watching the races and bullshitting with people I haven’t seen in a while — Greg Frozley, Rob Lucas, Mike Elmer, Jurgen Bergeron and of course promoter Andy Bohlmann.

I suggested Andy consider promoting a cyclo-cross in the park next fall, maybe in September. He looked at me like I owed him money.

The turnout seemed low, which is perfect for the first bike race in Palmer Park since the mid-Nineties — fewer chances for negative interaction with other park users, less trail damage, and so on. That last is particularly important, as Bibleburg is not exactly rolling in dough for parks and recreation, which is one of the many reasons why the city is asking voters to approve a property-tax increase on Nov. 2.

Charlie the Chihuahua, as relaxed an example of the breed as I have ever seen.

Among the spectators was Charlie the Chihuahua. He isn’t old enough to vote, but nonetheless seemed to be enjoying his day in the sun on this woefully underfunded piece of city property. I bet he’d kick in a peso or two if he had any squirreled away in that nifty sweater.

Charlie was rescued from a puppy mill and no doubt was happy to be pretty much anywhere besides there, even if that meant riding around in a slightly girly blue bag borne by one of his humans while the other was racing.

Hey, what the hell, I was rocking eight-speed Shimano 600, bald Michelin clinchers and some seriously old Mad Dog Media-Dogs at Large Velo kit. You won’t see me casting any stones from that obsolete glass condo.

Putting the ‘fall’ in fall

October 17, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

Palmer Park: an oasis in the suburban wasteland that is north-central Bibleburg.

Another frosty morning, but the temps are supposed to crack the 60s today. Seventies tomorrow. Fat city. I’ve gotten out the past couple of days for short cyclo-cross spins and hope to squeeze in a few more before the iceman cometh.

Toward that end, I’ve been upgrading the fleet. The red Steelman Eurocross now has a new-used Ritchey crankset and bottom bracket, a new chain and a new cassette, thanks to the fine folks at Old Town Bike Shop, and thus no longer sounds like a broken chainsaw. It also has a rear flat — goddamn goatheads — so I have a little work to do before today’s ride.

The Voodoo Wazoo has a fresh pair of 700×28 Conti Ultra Gatorskins and will soon sport a pair of Planet Bike fenders for evil weather. Mounting the fenders will be problematic as the Wazoo lacks both chainstay bridge and a drilled seatstay bridge; zip ties will be involved. How did the world ever get along before zip ties and duct tape?

Meanwhile, Andy Bohlmann’s Carmichael Training Systems Sand Creek Fall Classic is on today at Palmer Park. I might pop by for a look-see, as I haven’t been to a race all year. I know these trails the way Glenn Beck’s head knows his colon, and there will be amusement a-plenty if a guy stations himself in the right spot. I like to think of it as putting the “fall” in fall. Nothing like human suffering to brighten up an already-cheery autumn morning.

And don’t forget today’s ground-breaking at Boulder’s Valmont Bike Park. The festivities include an ACA ’cross race, and if it were a 10-minute ride away from the DogHaus the way Palmer Park is, why, I’d be there, too.

Air today, gone tomorrow

October 6, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

This is where the rubber meets the road (or, more precisely, the goatheads).

It’s autumn, all right. Blustery outside and beggary inside, with the local NPR affiliate entering the seventh day of its fall pledge drive with about fifty large yet to raise.

KRCC-FM used to be able wrap up these biannual annoyances in a day and a half, but no longer — money is as tight here as it is everywhere else, despite our vigorous embrace of ham-and-egger tourism, the military-industrial complex and corporate Christianity. Just ask anyone living in a cardboard condo alongside Fountain Creek.

My last few bike rides have required knee and arm warmers, and once an actual long-sleeved jersey, which was something of a shock to the system. They have also featured one flat each, as the goatheads are out and about. And big mothers they are, too. Once you hear that tick-tick-ticking and spot the thorn affixed to the tire, you’re just a few seconds from becoming a pedestrian.

On Sunday I hear the ticking, spot the thorn and start looking for a comfy place to sit while replacing the tube. But the first tube I pull out of the saddlebag won’t hold air, and neither will the second. Ay, Chihuahua, I think. Brain damage. You’ve been stuffing the flats back in the bag instead of a jersey pocket, you idiot.

Happily, the third tube was the charm — I pumped it up and headed for home, because I could feel the rear softening up, too. I foresee a morning rich in adhesives and patches if I wish to ride that bike again. Happily, it has many cousins in the garage. Never do today what you can put off ’til tomorrow.

One Gran Fondue, hold the napalm

October 3, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments

A glimpse of the changing colors in Dog Country.

Legolas Leipheimer is leading a Gran Fondue through Sonoma County today, accompanied by some 3,500 of his closest friends, and embedded in the merry band is my old pal Chris Coursey, formerly a columnist for The Press Democrat in Santa Rosa.

Via e-mail, Chris notes that he is doing the 65-mile Medio Fondue, which features only 3,500 feet of climbing, as opposed to the full kettle of cheese — 110 miles with 6,500 feet of up, including the dread Coleman Valley Road. Going up is plenty tough — and don’t forget, what goes up must also come down.

Writes Chris: “The descent on the other side is hairpinned and potholed in some places, smooth and screaming in others. It demands a bit of skill, discretion and common sense. And I’m going to be sharing it with 3,499 other humanoids. When is the last time you saw 3,500 skilled, discreet and sensible people together in the same crowd?”

Uh, that would be never, which is only one of the many reasons I will go out for a short, solo ’cross-bike ride here as soon as the temps reach the knee-warmer stage.

Still, it could be worse — instead of cycling alone or in a crowd, we could be pounding ground along the Arghandab River in Afghanistan, a garden spot that the grunts of Bravo Company describe as “Vietnam without the napalm.” Sounds lovely. I’d rather do the backside of Coleman drunk on a unicycle with a rucksack full of nitroglycerin.