If It Ain’t One Thing…

It’s another.

And another.

My string of bad luck continues, but at least I wasn’t in a race this time.  After driving all the way down to Augusta, GA for the FATS trip on Saturday, I thought it would be a good day.  About thirty minutes into the first loop though, it turned to shit.  I told you yesterday that I had to stop to tighten my left crank arm, and everything seemed fine.  After a little more riding though, I noticed that  it came loose again.  I busted out my trusty tool to tighten it again, and just as I was gently getting the bolt snug, I heard a crack.

Shit.

I broke the head off the bolt, and I was pretty much screwed at that point.  There was no way the crank arm would stay on after that.

Rather than walk out though, I decided that I would put it back on there, and try my best to keep it on there by pressing my foot against the bottom bracket when I rode downhill.  I wouldn’t be able to climb very well, but at least I wouldn’t have to walk out.  It worked okay at first, but Tom and Lunchbox had to stop every so often to let me catch up.  At one point I told then to keep going and wait for me at the end of the loop.  They took off while I limped my bike along the trail. 

I walked my bike up the climbs for the most part, but I stayed on for the downhills.  My luck didn’t last forever though, because at one point my crank arm fell of while I was navigating a rooty and twisty descent.  My right crank arm immediately dropped downward, and my pedal struck a root.  It sent me over the bars, and I landed on my (already hurt a few days ago) elbow.  As I writhed on the ground for a bit in pain, I thought about how dumb that shit was.  I got back on my bike and I eventually made it out of there.

My next challenge would be to get my bike fixed.

Since we drove all the way down there and the ride had just started, I wanted to get back out there to get some miles in.  I took off for a local shop, leaving Lunchbox and Tom to ride without me.  I didn’t see the need for them to give up their ride time for me, and I figured I’d be back soon anyway.  I took off with my broken bike, heading to the closest shop.

On the way, I gave Mr. Shepherd a call.  The the last time he was here we went through the same shit. 

I didn’t wait for him to answer the phone before I started talking.

Me:  “Fuck you Lance, answer!”

Mr. Shepherd:  “Hello?”

Me:  “Lance, it’s me Vincent.  I’m in big fucking trouble, man.  I’m coming to your house.”

Mr. Shepherd:  “Whoa. Whoa.  Hold your horses, man.  What’s the problem?”

Me:  “I’ve got this chick, she’s fuckin’ O.D.in’ on me.”

Mr. Shepherd:  “Well, don’t bring her here!  I’m not even fuckin’ joking with you, man!  Do not be bringing some fucked-up pooh-bah to my house.”

Me. “No choice.”

Mr. Shepherd:  “She’s O.D.in’?”

Me.  “She’s fuckin’ dying on me, man!”

Mr. Shepherd:  “Okay, then you bite the bullet, take her to a hospital and call a lawyer.”

Me:  “Negative.”

Mr. Shepherd:  “This is not my fuckin’ problem, man!  You fucked her up, you deal with this!”

Okay, that was obviously a Pulp Fiction reference and not what really happened.  I just called to give him shit about passing on his bad juju to me from our last trip.  He did help me remember the name of the bike shop we went to when he was here, and I made it there with no issues.  Long story short, they got me back on the bike pronto, and I hauled ass back to the trail to see if I could finish my ride.

I got back to the parking lot just as the boys were finishing up their ride.  Lunchbox was worn out (and even had a small bout with leg cramps), but Tom volunteered to go out there again with me.  I had to get in some more riding, and I was glad to have the company.  We hit the trail at a breakneck pace, determined to finish up before the ladies did.  We succeeded, which meant that I didn’t waste my time driving down there.

We had fun (despite another mechanical issue), and I’m very thankful I got back on the trail.  I’ll talk about my bike shop experience soon.  In the meantime, I have some work to do.  I ran my GoPro out there again, so I have to see if any of the video is worth editing.

Even if it isn’t, I’ll probably still put something together for the blog.

Good or bad, you’ll have to watch it.

Dark Days Bright Nights

It’s over.

The 2012 Southern Classic Series has come to a close, and I’m somewhat relieved.  I had fun “racing” all season, but I’ve also kinda had a shitty year.  It was nice to see things through until the bitter end.

The day started out earlier than I had planned, because Little Miss Sunshine wanted to race.  Her wave went off an hour and a half earlier than mine, so I had to get up extra early.  I didn’t have a chance to make up for my lost sleep, but the little lady and Lunchbox did on the way up to Wilkesboro.

Since I didn’t have to get ready right away for my race, I got to watch the little lady get out there.  She was nervous for some reason, even though she likes riding the trails at Dark Mountain.

She took off slowly, but eventually worked her way in the middle of the action.  When we saw her coming by, she was flying.

Photo credit:  Lunchbox

She ended up in fourth place for the day, and I was happy that she put in a good effort.  About the time she got back though, it was time for me to start getting ready for my own race.

I had a little issue though.

Shit.  I had no choice but to race though, so I lowered my seatpost a little bit to keep my frame from breaking all the way.  Because of this small adjustment (and certain failure), I knew my race would probably suck.

I was spot on with my assessment. 

We took off, and I didn’t do my usual “sprint to the lead” technique.  Instead, I played it really safe, falling into the middle of the pack somewhere.  With my misadjusted seatpost though, I was having trouble getting any power out of my legs.  Also, I was afraid to sit down too much for fear of breaking my frame all the way through.  Because of this, I was already hurting at the one mile mark.  A downhill section was coming up though, and since I usually stand up then anyway, I knew I wouldn’t have any issues. 

My kid was waiting on the side of the trail for me:

After that, another climb.  I let a few guys go by, and concentrated on just trying to finish.  Every little creak coming from my frame scared me, because I figured that the next sound I would hear would be the sound of failure, and probably pain and suffering from a crash.  I somehow held on the entire lap, and when I saw the last section of downhill I knew I would survive at least one.  

Once again my kid was waiting for me.

And I had someone else out there taking photos as I exited the woods.

Photo credit:   Eastwood 

I made it through one lap, and I cruised through the start/finish line for one more.  My legs were hurting because of my seatpost height, but I didn’t really give a shit at that point.  I promised myself I wouldn’t quit, even if my bike broke into pieces.  The second lap felt a lot better, but I still wasn't getting all I put into each pedal stroke.  At least I didn’t feel like I was out there all day.

The time was passing quickly (sort of), and before I knew it I was coming down the last section…as fast as I could.

When it was all over, I didn’t even come close to the podium.  I ended up in 9^th, but I got some points towards the overall standings.  When they announced the series standings, I got called up to stand on the number two podium step.

When they announced the standings for the North Carolina State Championships, they asked contestant number three to step down (because he didn’t have an annual USA Cycling license.)  Todd and I stayed right where we were though, and Jack joined us up there.

In addition to an extended podium stay, I won some shit.

In the end, I guess I did okay.  I have more thoughts on my “season”, but I’ll get into that another day. 

I have beer to drink.

Party Over Here

On Saturday it was time to party. Our local mountain bike clubs, the Tarheel Trailblazers and the Dirt Divas held their year-end party at Anne Springs Close Greenway down in Fort Mill, South Carolina. The party is a way for all of us locals to get together every year for riding, socializing, good food, and beer, and this year was no exception.


The party started at 2:00 p.m., so we left the B-43 compound with plenty of time to spare (at least I thought so.) After a couple of stops along the way, we came screeching in the parking lot right at 2:00. We hopped out of my truck and started getting ready, since everyone was preparing to break off into groups and ride the trails. It took me a bit longer to get ready than I would have liked, since everyone I knew came over to say hello and inquire about my rib injury. As I finished getting ready, I saw that everyone else was preparing to leave:



In the photo above you might notice local celebrity Rich Dillen perched atop his brand spanking new squishy geared bike. I had no idea that we would have famous people at the event. Awesome.


Anyway, there were a couple of guided tour groups based on skill level, and some other folks broke off into their own speedy groups. As much as I wanted to join one of the fast groups to see how quick I could fall off the pack, I decided that I would join the slowest group. My rib is still hurt, and I didn’t need to bust my ass (and another rib) out there trying to keep up with the cool kids. Little Miss Sunshine, Lunchbox, and The Dirty Party Cycle rode along with this group as well.


We took off at a nice social pace, and my rib felt pretty good (I touched it several times to be sure.) We stopped every so often to let the group catch up, and I was enjoying this slow, easy ride. I didn’t want to risk further injury by taking photos while I rode, so I only busted out the camera when we stopped for a break. Here’s a “rest stop”:



The Dirty Party Cycle is telling Lunchbox about his new found love of big wheels.


We rode with the group for a while, and then we all stopped to cross a bridge. Since this was a beginner/slower group ride, we made sure everyone made it across. At this point Lunchbox, The Dirty Party Cycle, and I let the group go on, as we had to heed the call of nature. We let our bikes get a rest while we ventured off the beaten path:




We eventually caught back up to the group, but they were skipping one of the more advanced sections out there. Our little group within the group decided that we would permanently split from the main pack and go off on our own. We rode at a much faster pace now, since I was feeling pretty good. We had to stop at one point because Lunchbox was complaining of shifting issues though. After a short inspection, I saw that his front derailleur cable had snapped, causing his chain to remain in the granny gear. We tried to adjust the front derailleur to put the chain back on the middle ring, but it wasn’t working. We decided that we would slow down a bit and I would fix it when we got back home.


A little while later, I had an idea. At the top of a climb I decided that I would remove the quick link from Lunchbox’s chain, and place the chain on the middle chainring. This way the big ring and the front derailleur would keep it in place, allowing him a better gear ratio to continue the ride. Just when I thought I had solved the world’s problems,. I saw him coming up the hill and I noticed that something wasn’t right:



His bike was bouncing all over the place, and it wasn’t because of his suspension. His frame had cracked right at the pivot point on the rear triangle. Great, now Lunchbox was a frame killer too. I guess I’ll be ringing up the folks at Diamondback this afternoon to inquire about the warranty. They should take care of us, but I have a backup plan if they come up with some bullshit reason to keep us from getting a shiny new frame. Although he’s been wishing for a big-wheeled bike, this wasn’t the way he wanted to go about it. He finished the ride, but his spirit was broken.


We finally made it back from the ride, and Lunchbox was happy to get off the trail. He was heartbroken, but he will be riding again soon. As for me, I didn’t re injure myself, so I felt like I had to ride a little more. Rather than leave Lunchbox with his broken bike, I busted out my one-wheeled machine for a little play time.





This tuned out to be a very bad idea. I had forgotten the Muni’s tendency to violently throw me from it’s seat at any given time, and I took a small spill. My ribs didn’t sustain any further abuse, but I busted open an old wound:





I guess I’ve learned that I can ride the bike again (albeit carefully), but the Muni needs to stay in the garage for a while. I do the dumbest shit sometimes, but it’s usually for your entertainment. You’re welcome.


The party kicked off shortly thereafter. There was plenty of good beer, food, and even a raffle. I didn’t win shit, but Little Miss Sunshine made out like a bandit. We stayed until the sun went down, as you can clearly see in this photo:




I’ll be back tomorrow with more crap, and maybe even some news about Lunchbox’s bike.

These Are The Breaks

Today should have been a race report from the Southern Classic Series race at Dark Mountain yesterday, but unfortunately it’s not. Why, you ask? Well, it all started on Friday evening after work, when I decided to grab The Big O and go for a quick ride at one of our local trails, Sherman Branch. It was supposed to be a nice, fun lap, and I was hoping to complete it in record time.


I arrived at the trail and saw a few of my local racing pals, and they were just about to get on the trail. I told them that I would try to catch up, and that became my goal. These guys are normally faster than me, so it would be a challenge. When I finished getting ready, I hit the trail at full speed. I felt pretty good, so I figured I would at least see them at some point. After about 3 miles, I spotted them a little ways ahead of me. That meant that they were either a) going really slow, or b) I was on pace to set a new personal course record. I like to think it was the latter, so I sped up some more. Just as I did, I heard a snap, and my seat moved back a bit. Shit, I thought, I must have broken my seat.

I kept going for a minute, but when I looked down to see what was going on, I noticed that I had experienced another unfortunate event. I had broken yet another frame. I quickly hopped off of my bike and walked out. When I got back to my truck, I had a chance to fully inspect the damage:



Two broken frames. I guess being a Clydesdale isn’t what it’s cracked up to be (get it, cracked up?) I didn’t get a chance to sulk about it though, since I had to go to work (I was on call, remember?) It would have to wait until the next day.
When I got up the next day, I realized that I would be okay. Since I just had my Diamondback Sortie 3 replaced via warranty (thanks to the fine folks at Diamondback and Ride-A-Bike Bicycle Shoppe), I knew I would have a bike to ride. Fortunately though, I had an ace in the hole. I had a backup frame for The Big O, which was the exact same Diamondback Overdrive. I immediately began swapping out the parts to the new frame.



It didn’t take that long, and it was actually pretty easy. Since the frame was the same, I didn’t have to make any adjustments when I put everything back on. I took it for a quick test ride, and it was good to go. I could still race the next morning if I wanted to. Relief, for sure.


To pass the time for the rest of the day (in between working here and there), I decided to build a nice little skateboard ramp for Lunchbox and his crew. During one of my trips to work during the day, I had acquired some wood from a local home improvement store (where I ran into Dicky and The Boy for some reason) went home, and got to work. In my haste, I neglected to take pictures of the finished product. I did take some pictures of the building process though:







Saturday was a full day, and it wore me out. The boys enjoyed the ramp, and I even got into the action a little bit (when I had time.) I was happy to be ready for the race the next morning, though, thanks to some quick parts changin'. After getting called to work again at 6:30 on Sunday morning though, I went back to sleep and didn’t wake up until 11:00 or so. Shit. The ironic thing is that the work people left me alone for pretty much the entire duration of the race (including travel time to and from Wilkesboro), but I guess I was too worn out to go. I was looking forward to this race, but it apparently wasn’t in the cards. Next year, I suppose.


As for the broken frame on my 29er, that kind of sucks. I was happy to have a backup frame to use as a replacement, because I’m really digging this 29er thing. It was good to have it back and ready for action so fast, but I gotta figure out why I keep breaking bikes. It’s not like I’m some lard ass or anything, but maybe aluminum isn’t the ideal frame material for me. Maybe I should consider something made out of steel or titanium, huh? See y’all tomorrow.

Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls/ My Goose Is Cooked

I’ve been caught up with all of my vacation stories lately, which didn’t really give me time to mention something pretty significant that happened. A few weeks ago, Little Miss Sunshine and I teamed up with some of our local Charlotte riding friends for a nice little trip to the DuPont State Forest. This would be our first time there, so it was nice to go with people that have been there before. We headed west, towards the beautiful North Carolina Mountains.



When we finally arrived at our destination, we got everything ready to go. I brought my full squishy bike, Goose, along for the trip. I chose the squishy action because we were riding in the mountains, and I wanted to be comfortable. The Big O isn’t really built for comfort, although it probably would have fared just as well (or better as you will later find out.)



The rest of our crew was getting ready too:



We started out on a trail called Burnt Mountain, which was a long climb on some really cool, smooth rocks. The good thing about the climb was the fact that you had to ride some sweet downhill to get out. An immediate reward after a climb is always the best. Here, Little Miss Sunshine takes the nice downhill action with a smile:



Eventually, we came up to a creek crossing. There were two ways to cross, and one was obviously easier than the other. Here is local rider RodFoot taking it like a pro:



Here’s our pal Terry demonstrating the normal way to cross, which the rest of us did:



After a little more trail riding, we came up to the most beautiful sight, the Bridal Veil Falls. It was well worth the trip, as you can see in these photos:











Little Miss Sunshine and I had to cut our ride short (I’ll tell you about it in a minute), but the rest of our crew continued on. On the way back to the trailhead, LMS showed us how skilled she is on a mountain bike:





Not to be outdone, I hat to hit one of these cool rock features too:



DuPont is an awesome place to ride, and I can’t wait to go back. If you’re anywhere near Western North Carolina and you’ve never been, then shame on you. You should tell your boss you’re feeling sick, head home to grab your bike, and get on over to DuPont right now. You will not regret it.


So, why did we have to bail on the group? Well, as I was climbing up a hill, I noticed that my bike felt extra squishy. I knew I had locked out my Fox rear shock, but I reached down and hit the lever again just in case. That stiffened things up a bit, but something still wasn’t right. I stopped at the top of the climb to investigate my extra squishyitude, and I noticed this:



Shit. I’ve broken plenty of skateboards in my day, but this is the first time I’ve ever cracked a bicycle frame. The damn thing broke right where the top tube meets the seat tube, and I didn’t understand why. My seatpost was down into the frame well past that point, so I was confused. To reference the title of this post, my Goose was cooked. Since I’m such an awesome bicycle mechanic, I tried a little trailside repair action:




Of course that didn’t work, so now I had to figure out how to get my beloved Goose in rideable condition again. Since it’s nearly impossible to properly repair such a thing, I decided that I would contact Diamondback for some warranty service.

When I talked to Diamondback, they said to take it to my local dealer. I didn’t know what to do, since my favorite shop closed down. Wait, what? Yeah, as you may have noticed, the link over there to the left for Middle Ring Cycles is gone. They mysteriously closed, and I heard that another shop opened up over there under a different name. I tried to call to find out what happened, but I never got anyone to answer. So, I had to find another local Diamondback dealer. I asked around, and the Dirty Party Cycle told me about a shop he visited recently, and he said the service was great. In fact he went there for a warranty issue for his Raleigh (the parent company of Diamondback by the way), and everything went silky smooth. I headed over there the next day with my broken Goose, and my tail between my legs.


So, what happened? Well, since I went on a little long today (and for the sake of dragging it out), I’ll save the conclusion for tomorrow. For now, I’ll just tell you that I was a nervous wreck, wondering if I’ll ever get to ride another full squishy Diamondback again. I still have The Big O, my 29er, but I kind of liked having two bikes to choose from. Will Diamondback tell me to piss off and buy another bike? Will I be back on a Diamondback Sortie 3? Will I get a different bike? Will the next bike be named Goose, and still be my Wingman in the Woods? So many unanswered questions. Tune in tomorrow to find out the conclusion to this horrible tale.