| Newsletter - Odds & Ends |
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You have entered... This page was sparked by these first nine
offerings were from Tom Hocking. Also: |
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Devout Cyclist A devout cyclist dies and goes to heaven. Saint Peter meets him at the gate. Cyclist asks if there are bicycles in heaven. Peter says "Sure, let me show you," and leads the guy into the finest Velodrome you can imagine. "This is great," the cyclist says. "You will love it here" says Peter. "You will be fitted a custom track bike, the mechanics will glue on fresh silks each night, and your personal masseuse is always available." As they speak a blur flys by them on the boards riding a gold plated Cinelli and the cyclist says "Wow he was fast, that must be Eddy Merck!" "No," says Peter, "that was God, he only thinks he's Eddy" |
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You Know You're Addicted To Cycling When... 10. Your surgeon tells you you need a heart valve replacement and you ask if you have a choice between presta and schrader. 9. A measurement of 44-36-40 doesn't refer to the latest Playboy centerfold, but that new gear ratio you were considering for your Cobra. 8. A Power Bar starts tasting better than a Snickers. 7. The bra your significant other finds in your glove compartment belongs to your Trek and not the cute waitress at Denny's. 6. You wear your heart monitor to bed to make sure you stay within your target zone during any extracurricular activities. 5. The funeral director tells you "NO!" you can't ride your Cannondale in the funeral procession, even if you keep your headlight on. 4. You experience an unreasonable envy over someone who has bar end extenders longer than yours. 3. You're too tired for hanky-panky on a Friday night but pump out a five-hour century on Saturday. 2. Your wife tells you the only way she'll let you ride across the country is over her dead body and you tell her, "If that's the case, you'll be my first speed bump!" AND the number-one reason you know you're addicted to bicycling... 1. You no longer require a hankie to blow your nose. |
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You might be a bike Weenie IF... You hear someone had a crash and your first question is "How's the bike?" You have stopped even trying to explain to your husband why you need two bikes ...you just go buy another one and figure it will all work out in the divorce settlement. You convert your car's brake & gas pedals to clipless. You see nothing wrong with discussing the connection between hydration and urine color. You find your Shimano touring shoes to be more comfortable and stylish than your gunboat sneakers. You refuse to buy a couch because that patch of wallspace is taken up by the bike. You have more money invested in your bike clothes than in the rest of your combined wardrobe. Biker chick means black spandex, not leather, and a Marinoni, not a Harley. The "four cheeseburgers and four large French Fries" is for you. You see a fit, tanned, Lycra-clad young woman ride by, and the first thing you check out is her bicycle. You empathize with the roadkill. Despite all that winter weight you put on, you'll skim weight by buying titanium components. You use wax on your chain, but not on your car. Your first course when you eat out is a large banana split. You yell "On Your Left!" when passing another car. You yell "Hole!" when you see a pothole while driving your car. Your bike has more miles on its computer then your car's odometer. Your bikes are worth more than your car. You buy a mini-van and immediately remove the rear seats to allow your bike(s) to fit. When you move to a new area the first thing you look for is a bike shop. You have more bike jerseys than dress shirts. You take your bike along when you shop for a car - just to make sure the bike will fit inside. You start yelling at cars to "hold your line." You view crashes as an opportunity to upgrade components. You clean your bike(s) more often then your car. You and your significant other have and wear identical riding clothes. You can tell your wife, with a straight face that it's to hot to mow the lawn and then bike off for a century. You regard inter-gender discussion of your genital pain/size/shape/utility as normal. Your New Years resolution is to put more miles on your bike than your car, and you do it. You know your cadence, but you have no idea what your speed is. When driving your car you lean over the steering wheel, just like an aerobar. Your kids bring a rear derailleur to "Show & Tell". Your car sits outside your garage because your garage is full of bikes and cycling gear. You tailgate a semi-trailer to get the drafting effect. You know your Bike Nashbar customer number by heart. You have a four digit Bike Nashbar customer number. There is no time like the present, for postponing what you ought to be doing, and go bicycling instead... |
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Prenuptials for Cyclists This agreement acknowledges that the forthcoming marriage is an arrangement that accepts the perpetual continuity of pre-existing relationship between the first two parties and that a three-way coexistence shall be created consisting of the following participants: Spouse A (the non biking loved one) hereafter
referred to as SA; Condition I: Acknowledgment Condition II: Cohabitation Condition III: Exclusivity and Infidelity Condition IV: Equal Time Condition V: Parts New Items immediately installed shall require TB to be put on prominent display (i.e. in front of TV). Newly purchased items not immediately installed shall be put on display as a centerpiece during the day and they shall be kept under the pillow of SB at bedtime, unless it is potentially dangerous to said part. This shall be for no less than 5 days or until they are installed whichever comes first. Condition VI: Finance Condition VII: Disposition Condition VIII: Protected Communications Extended Conditions: TB shall never be the focus of an argument nor brought up as part of one. TB shall never be discussed w/ in-laws unless said discussion is in praise or defense of TB. No retaliation shall ever be taken against TB. All of the above is to be considered ironclad and in stone and non negotiable, unless of course, the nonbiker says so. |
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Bicycle Choice Formula: "Light. Strong. Cheap. Pick Two." - Keith Bontrager, founder of Bontrager Bicycles |
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Last Saturday Morning On Saturday morning, a roadie gets up early, as he has for so many Saturday morning rides, and softly slips out of the bedroom. He dresses quietly in the next room, grabs his helmet and water bottles, and goes out to pump the tires. As the garage door opens, he's confronted by an icy, windswept rain. He's ridden before in these conditions. He doesn't like it, but when it's Saturday morning he never misses. He ponders the dismal conditions and then retreats to the kitchen to tune a small TV to the Weather Channel. The forecast only sounds worse. This is one Saturday when he just can't summon the determination. With a sigh, he slips off his shoes, quietly returns to the bedroom, undresses and slips back into bed. There he cuddles up to his wife's back and whispers, "The weather out there is terrible." To which she sleepily replies, "Can you believe my husband went riding in that crap?" |
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Roadie Translations: "I'm out of shape" Translation: I ride 400 miles a week and haven't missed a day since the Ford administration. I replace my 11-tooth cog more often than you wash your shorts. My bodyfat percentage is lower than your mortgage rate. "I'm not into competition" Translation: I will attack until you collapse in the gutter, babbling and whimpering as if you've been watching Celebrity Poker. I will win the town-line sprint if I have to hook you into an oncoming traffic. I will crest this hill first if I have to grab your seatpost, spray energy drink in your eyes and ask you how to program my DVD player. "I'm on my beater bike" Translation: I had this baby custom-made in Tuscany using titanium blessed by the Pope. I took it to a wind tunnel and it disappeared. It weighs less than a popcorn fart and costs more than a divorce. "It's not that hilly" Translation: This climb lasts longer than a presidential campaign. Be careful on the steep sections or you'll fall over -- backward. You have a 39x23 low gear? Here's the name of my knee surgeon. "You're doing great, honey" Translation: Yo, lard-o, I'd like to get home before midnight. This is what you get for spending the winter watching football and gobbling Sausages. I shoulda married that cute Cat 1 when I had the chance. "This is a no-drop ride" Translation: I'll need an article of your clothing. It's for the search-and-rescue dogs. "It's not that far" Translation: Yes, it is. |
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Ten Reasons I Returned to Randonneur Cycling 10. My 8 year suspension for testing positive after the 1994 400K finally came to an end. 9. I missed the warm, introspective conversations with Keith and Ted as we used to casually pedal the back roads of the Fraser Valley. 8. My new crew (mega-bucks lawyers Tony Crossman, Alistair Wade, Jerome Marburg, and Oleh Ilnycky - collectively the "Wheels of Justice") are paying me $1,300 per ride. 7. I need the UCI points. 6. Keith's promise that a new road has been constructed which by-passes Woodside Hill. 5. The new B.C. rando rule allowing those riders 45 years and older to use small electrical motors to supplement pedal power. 4. I'm able to eat bananas again. 3. Fond memories of the Marysville main drag on a Saturday night. 2. The prize money… the glory… the sponsorship opportunities. and the number one reason I'm back in the saddle: I heard that Harold finally gave up toe-clips and I had to see this astonishing turn of events for myself. April 2002 |
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Harold Bridge passed this one along. It apparently appeared in a club newsletter (Possibly the Redmon CC in South London, bike maker Mike Barry's original club) around 40 years ago. Unearthed at that time by Joan Bridge. Author unknown. The Elderly Cyclist The cyclist stood at the Pearly Gates, May 2005 |
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Cheryl Lynch found this one. It's on at least three web sites (other than this one) but we don't have any clues about who Craig is. One source says he's "Craig O". Craig's Beginners Guide to Preparing For a Cycling Trip: Step 1: Get a spaghetti-strainer and several small sponges. Soak the sponges in salt-water and paste them to the inside of the spaghetti-strainer. Place the strainer on your head. Find a busy road. Stand by the side of the road and do deep knee-bends for 8 hours. This will acclimatize you to a day's ride. Step 2: Take some 200-grit sandpaper and rub your rear-end and the insides of your legs for about 20 minutes. Rinse with salt-water. Repeat. Then, sit on a softball for 8 hours. Do this daily for at least 8 days. Step 3: Each day, take two twenty-dollar bills and tear them into small pieces. Place the pieces on a dinner-plate, douse them with lighter fluid and burn them. Inhale the smoke (simulating car-fumes). Rub the ashes on your face. Then go to the local motel and ask them for a room. Step 4: Take a 1-quart plastic bottle. Fill it from the utility sink of a local gas-station (where the mechanics wash their hands). Let the bottle sit in the sun for 2 or 3 hours until it's good and tepid. Seal the bottle up (kinda, sorta) and drag it through a ditch or swamp. Walk to a busy road. Place your spaghetti-strainer on your head and drink the swill-water from the bottle while doing deep knee-bends along the side of the road. Step 5: Get some of those Dutch wooden-shoes. Coat the bottoms with 90-W gear-oil. Go to the local supermarket (preferably one with tile floors). Put the oil-coated, wooden shoes on your feet and go shopping. Step 6: Think of a song from the 1980's that you really hated. Buy the CD and play 20 seconds of that song over and over and over for about 6 hours. Do more deep knee-bends Step 7: Hill training: Do your deep knee-bends for about 4 hours with the salt-soaked spaghetti-strainer on your head, while you drink the warm swill-water and listen to the 80's song over and over (I would recommend "I'm a cowboy/On a STEEL horse I ride!" by Bon Jovi). At the end of 4 hours, climb onto the hood of a friend's car and have him drive like a lunatic down the twistiest road in the area while you hang on for dear life. Step 8: Humiliation training: Wash your car and wipe it down with a chamois-cloth. Make sure you get a healthy amount of residual soap and road-grit embedded in the chamois. Put the chamois on your body like a loin-cloth, then wrap your thighs and middle-section with cellophane. Make sure it's really snug. Paint yourself from the waist down with black latex paint. Cut an onion in half and rub it into your arm-pits. Put on a brightly colored shirt and your Dutch oil-coated wooden shoes and go shopping at a crowded local mall. Step 9: Foul weather training: Take everything that's important to you, pack it in a Nylon corodura bag and place it in the shower. Get in the shower with it. Run the water from hot to cold. Get out and without drying off, go to the local convenience store. Leave the wet, important stuff on the sidewalk. Go inside and buy $10 worth of Gatorade and Fig Newtons. Step 10: As Archimedes hypothesized: "Use a simple lever to move the Earth from one place to another". After doing that, go around your house and lift heavy things that you never imagined a person could lift. Surprise yourself. Do 1,000 sit-ups. Then 10,000. Eat lunch. Repeat. Argue with every girlfriend/boyfriend you've ever known and be RIGHT. Solve all the problems of politics, faith and economics. At the end of the day, get into a huge tub filled with hot soapy water and relax, because tomorrow is another BIG DAY ON THE BIKE! Step 11: Headwinds training: Buy a huge map of the entire country. Spread it in front of you. Have a friend hold a hair-dryer in your face. Stick your feet in taffy and try to pull your knees to your chest while your friend tries to shove you into a ditch or into traffic with his free hand. Every 20 minutes or so, look at the huge map and marvel at the fact that you have gone nowhere after so much hard work and suffering. Fold the map in front of a window-fan set to "High". May 2005 |