Urban 'Cross and Roanoke Nights...

As the north wind blows our dainty house of straw into the Gulf of Mexico, I might actually have a minuscule moment of reflection before the Monday morning commute in -20 degree windchill and single-digit high temperatures....only one day of work this week, then the next 7 off - the climax of said vacation being the vainglorious excursion to Tucson and El Single-Speedo Arizona. There would be no way possible, dear reader, for you to know how much of a bike-chubby I have for this trip: I have only been drooling over the mere thought of it for 10 years and a month now. Maybe it is the promise of warmth, mega-riding and drunken camping that have me sporting a trouser tent, but hey, when you get to be an old, perverted man sitting on the porch whistling at all the ladies in yoga pants walking by your house, sometimes a change of location is needed in order to stay off the neighborhood watch radar...

As was foretold by the demons, I actually had quite a few hours on the trails this past week, which was capped off by the Dirty Urban 'Cross today in the west-bottoms of KCMO. Mr. Chasmgasm put on a top-shelf event as usual, with the help of Chris-Gofuckhimself; and the attendance was stellar, as was the weather, a dry, nearly 60 degree day in the sun. The course was shit-your-panties awesome, and only the Bitch Brownback could have given a better tour of the shit-hole that borders on Wyandotte County and its myriad resorts along the Kaw River. The below link is my own coverage of the first lap of the race, which was replete with death-defying drops and snowy mountains; and of course enough gravel and back-alley trash collecting to make even the most jaded hipster twirl his 'stache with glee...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abLKsoVoaaw&feature=youtu.be

my trusty Krampus in its pre-race virginity...

Earlier in the week, I was able to hit the short but sweet single-track at Roanoke Park, just north of 39th St. West, in a windy, snow-misted, 23 degree night ride before meeting up with the baddest beer geeks in the area for a bottle-share night wherein my tastebuds were eventually assaulted by the now infamous 'Punishment' from Stone - a hot-pepper infused brew that was actually quite tasty and not as hot as everyone claimed. The below link is a teaser of the rock-strewn goodness that are the Roanoke Trails : amazing lines right in the center of city...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XY_EjzeMdoI&feature=youtu.be

Kill Creek Park....rolled on the rocks.

Finally got out and rode some single-track and found plenty of challenges out at Kill Creek...this was my first trail ride since last Saturday's light-pole-humping-bashing event, which left me with a football-sized swollen bruise that looked like I had been assaulted with a Redwood by Paul Bunyan. As the temperatures plummet again this week, I will hopefully get some night riding in and work out any remaining bone chips before heading west yet again, this time for Single Speed Arizona, way the fuck down in Tucson. At least the 80 degree desert heat will keep my loins from becoming attenuated icicles, that is if I-70 is not hit by another Ion-like event, and my Diesel keeps on truckin'...

And for more Kill Creek action check out another rocky-ass section...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbug_a-hsR8

Kansas City: Cycling Central

...yeah I know this is last year's flyer but fuck off. This year it is the 18th.

And tomorrow night is this event at Velo+ in Lenexa:

https://www.facebook.com/events/594572407289628/

So, as per usual I have gotten ahead of myself, shooting my wad in the eye of the beholder, poking my pee pee where it does noteth belongeth...but what would this world be without self-professed freetards like Team 8 Lumens and their myriad acolytes? I'll tell you: a boring-ass collection of buttwats. So, if you have any question as to the validity of the amazing cycling scene here in KC, there is no other answer than awesome. Yes, I know, the street scene is a bit less than admirable, but BikeWalkKC is taking the shit seriously as far as commuting is concerned -   https://bikewalkkc.org - and, as I have eluded to ad nauseum, the mt. bike trails are beyond incredible here as well. Goddamn Earth Riders you have me sporting an eternal chubby...

Anyway, the point of this tirade is quite austere: KC is the mutha fuka-in shazizzle for all things groovy at this point in history...I have been here since 1998 and trust me, it used to be a barren porta-potty of a city; now we have world-class food/entertainment/beer/cycling/coffee etc. etc. Yes, we may be surrounded by Red-State dipshits, but the hipster virus is spreading, one greasy-haired barrista at a time: don't blink fellow Kaw's Mouth residents, the next thing you know there will be an IKEA and an REI ( which is already open and gave serious money to our trail builders )  in Johnson county...as if that is the litmus test for big-city authenticity...shop local and make this city even better than skinny jeans on a donkey in Tijuana.

The Boner Ghost does a pole dance with his hip...

As was previously discussed in the last post on this eponymous blog, last Saturday night was the war of attrition a.k.a Dirt Cred Numero Uno. Beings as how the trails were muddy and slutty, The Shoff chose to do an Urban Dirty, wherein attendees were assaulted with cardboard containers of wine, reefers the size of bananas and enough Tallgrass brew to fuck up an entire third world country. The above video is of me doing an endo-faceplant-hipcheck onto a pile of frozen snow, which knocked the wind out of me and rearranged my right waistline to more resemble Kim Kardashian's ass. The night ended many hours later, after a tour of the Blue River wastelands north of the Stadiums....which featured many more wrecks, the penultimate crash concerning David HasselShoff  - which will also be posted to this here Blog - and forced the party into the nearest QT for coffee and taquitos, while the birthday boy barfed up his cake. Luckily we were within 3 miles of the HasselShoff headquarters where the shindig started, so all was well and good in the end, that is of course until El Blanco Miguel upchucked his aforementioned taquitos down the side of my car on the way south. If you missed this 'event' - and any other 8 Lumens past or future tense bullshit - I suggest you take some Midol or Viagra and get the fuck off the couch with your *345 cats and Mario Cart and ride, because next time we will all be carrying panniers full of box wine and I.V.'s... You know who you aren't.

Could have been writing for the last hour but instead I drank a bottle of Goose Island Pere Jaques and drooled on my half-boner...

                                                          ...though mine was a  750ml. 2013 vintage

So now you get a weak, week-ending photo dump and a minor mea culpa session, which of course you did not ask for, but shall receive with the worst of wishes...

And, in order to not confuse and infuriate myself with my own disorder, I shall use the annotated list format, one that I am one with, a device that is useful only when inebriation trumps cognition, when problems outweigh solutions, when screaming is silenced by the whisper of my nose hairs...

1. I am in serious debate/negotiations on whether or not to zombify myself and drive to Denver, then hitch a ride to Tucson for Single Speed Arizona here in two weeks or so. I will be carpooling with the reigning SS national champion Cameron Chambers - also the reigning 24hr national champion - who will more than likely win said race...but the Pirate, who will round out this rode-trip triumvirate, has yet to promise me a 12 hour massage/handjob on the return trip, which is the only way I can get enough energy in reserve to make the 8hr. overnight drive back to KC on Sunday. Fuck.

2. Tomorrow night is Dirt Cred #1, and I don't have a new prom dress, nor do I know of a discreet location wherein I can have an abortion in a dumpster. I had violent sexual relations with Dennis Rodman while Kim John Uno Ill Communication looked on, and I just don't know if I can support a child whose only talent is rebounding and dying his/her faux afro. 

3. I did not make it to The Bier Station once this week, though I did attend the Westport Poor Decision Awards, signed up for two categories, yet was never called upon to unleash my verbal excrement...Jones, I blame you and your panel of hotness that judged with their loins rather than their toes.

4. In the sweet, anal end, the weather was so joyous that I about preyed to the Goddess of Polar Vortices, and thanked her for the foggy, 40 degree day we were enveloped in, this Friday of our Lorde...Monday was -15 and the long-range forecast is high 40's for the next 7 days: how can one possibly be bored enough to masturbate to reruns of Days of Our Live's when the outdoors are so enticing?

I am tick and sired of failing at alcoholism...

After a glorious weekend getaway to the mountains of Arkansas - though the trip back was marred by Winter Storm Ion - I am back in the saddle in the morning, ready to strap on my GoPro and film the -15 degree ride to my demise, otherwise know as the Monday work commute. Unfortunately, I seem to be unable to drink more than two consecutive beers as of late, so my goal of a .13 b.a.c. by 7 a.m. is going to be beyond my reach...it is a sad state of affairs when you have a fridge full of this:

Not sure what is all of the matter, but I feel I need to join a group wherein Gawd is promising salvation through IPA injections, 12 steps at a time. If anyone knows of such an organization, please let me know because at present I am letting me-self - and 8 Lumens - down in a large Marge way...

And, as I have elucidated *45690 times in the last month, I would gladly go to jail and get shivved by my Black/White power boyfriend if I could murder this winter in hot blood: it is time for summer and bikinis; floating boobies and sandy giners...

I already hate 2014...

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151933190788311&set=vb.711863310&type=2&theater

( a small sample of the 9 degree ride...)

As I again begin drinking, in this instance a Wee Heavy Scotch Ale, I think that I will refuse to jump into the fray and make a 'best of' list for 2013, or reminisce about the halcyon days that I will never get back...only the pain of multiple broken bones and the subsequent, early-onset arthritis is there to remind me of all the good times I have had hucking myself off of rocks and roots on a mountain bike-cycle device for the last 20 odd years. Over the last 5 days, I have ridden on ice-strewn single track in 9 degree conditions - as well as commuting to work in single digits - and it looks as though tomorrow night will see yet another ride with the Pirate et al, this time in a few inches of snow with a -15 windchill. I'm not sure that I have made myself abundantly clear enough on the subject of winter and how much I despise said season, but let me not wax hyperbolic and state that as I age the cold is getting annoying to the point of mental illness; a seasonal affective disorder that is driving me to the become the lover of Ted Nugent: and that is insanity without limits my friends...