So please, stop crying, and writing. We’re either gone, or hungover, or some combination of both – usually. To top that off, we’re lazy and illiterate.
All orders in the hopper since 4/3 have been shipped!
Who ya’ gonna call?
So I’m back from the Ardennes classics, and I will fill your orders today and ship tomorrow.
Sorry for the delay.
Here’s a funny picture of one of our favorite riders of all time. I mean the guy on the right. The guy on the left is a fucking asswipe.
You may or may not have heard me singing the praises of the good folks from Mission Workshop, and perhaps this isn’t even the place you would care to hear of such things, but I’m the one who’s driving and if you don’t like where we’re going, feel free to get the fuck out.
This past Friday Mission had a ‘soft opening’ (just like your mom) to which a select few were invited to take part (just like your mom), and upon arriving, I was graced with a view of the beautiful people (unlike your mom);
I lurked around a piece, slapped some hands and caught up with a slew of friends, all the while looking at the fruits of their labor. For those not in the know, Mission Workshop is the brain child behind the original powers from Chrome, and it would look as if they saved their most inspired ideas for this newest incarnation. The flagship bag is one that is called The Vandal which upon my departure from the scene was presented to me with a smile and a kick in the pants. As I had arrived with my own overly stuffed backpack, (bike clothes, clean clothes, extra shoes, 8 ball of coke, helmet, camera, and so fourth) I was wary about the bag’s capability to take all of that in comfortably, but upon inserting the entire bag into the Vandal, my concerns were put to rest. It was as if I stuffed an extremely pregnant woman into the body of another woman and threw her over my back;
Which, I should note, I will never do again. They both were very pissed, my shoulders were sore for weeks and I still haven’t been able to wash the blood out of my clothes.. However the Vandal took it all in stride, and after departing the scene, rested comfortably behind me as I made my way onto more hijinx.
Later in the evening as I was attempting to retrieve my bag from beneath the bar at the next stop, a guy gave me some grief and told me to get in line. I explained that I was just trying to get my stuff. Still he didn’t budge. I then very calmly told him that if he didn’t move I would “fucking break him in half”. Pale faced, he obliged, I got my Vandal and together we happily pedaled off into the darkness.
Mission Workshop has set the bar, and then raised it a notch with their new offerings, and though they are on the pricy side, you have to remember that they are all hand made right here in Amerikuh from the finest materials available and will assuredly give you years of trouble free service.
This I can guarantee. With all of this being said, I bid you a fine ‘go fuck yourself’.
685 Industries has come out with something that all grassers will celebrate. Study the diagrams carefully. This is something that no self respecting stoner will want to be without.
I’m buried up to my neck in work and leaving town, Dave is overseas reporting on grown men in tights and tap shoes, (or, if I were a betting man) perhaps busting some gills of a passed out tranny Thai hooker, and Cheever’s playing bicycle industry grab ass with a bunch of other homos at the Sea Otter. Who’s going to fill the void here? I suppose that will be me. Now then, I will pose a question for the mechanically minded among us;
Is my hydraulic brake lever supposed to look like this?
There’s an awful lot of “I don’t know” or “we didn’t know” in cycling. Ballan just got hooked from the BMC squad, and Och (who’s got a skeleton overcrowding problem in his closet himself) has the nuggets to say “we didn’t know who his coach was”. Right. You didn’t know. And of course, this was all Lampre time, not BMC, and the investigation claims to center on distribution as opposed to individual use, but you know….where there’s smoke…..blah blah blah.
And just now a bunch of Frenchie kids get popped. L’Avenir sorts. Well covered by layers of masking agents. So the “turning the corner” and “new generation” stuff is a bit overblown as we suspected.
And you watch early season races and classics and you see Ricco, Millar, Scarponi, Chicken, and worst of all, Valverde along with all their other dirty little friends just riding away. What the hell, let’s let Tyler Hamilton and Di Luca back in the mix too. And of course the “too big to fail” riders that bring in the cash, they get carte blanche.
For all the professions of cleanliness and ethics, I just can’t help but feel this is one big long April Fool’s joke. Still. I know I’ve been harping on it for years, but it just saddens me to no end to see the very essence of sport – and to some extent decency – trampled with cheating, lies, and incredulity.
That said, I’m off to rub shoulders with the needle ponies themselves for Ardennes week. Look for some fun posts and pictures over the next 15 days.
