I regret to inform you that, owing to various obligations and miscellaneous whatnots, today's blogular post will be somewhat truncated. This also has something to do with it:
Yes, I "curated" this cannoli-eating "edit" myself, and its significance will be revealed in the not-too-distant future.
Also, further to yesterday's post, a commenter had this to say:
Lol, surprised to see my ad here. I needed a longer seatpost when I built up that Bianchi, and a friend sold me that seatpost super cheap. As soon as the deal was done, he tells me that the post once belonged to Bike Snob NYC. As the story went, both were at a bike polo match, Bike Snob was having issues with a seatpost slipping, my friend happened to have one lying around that was .2mm bigger, and they traded. Sucks that it turns out not to be true, but I guess an effective tactic to sell a bike, as it sold this afternoon.
SEPTEMBER 16, 2014 AT 12:39 AM
This is patently absurd, and I am shocked and appalled at the implication that I participate in bike polo matches. I mean sure, fine, I tried bike polo ONE TIME:
So does it have to haunt me for the rest of my life?
Furthermore, the bicycle pictured did not belong to me. Rather, it was lent to me for the occasion by the bicycle poloists, who to a man were almost disgustingly friendly and good-natured.
It was also on that same trip that I competed in the Single Speed Cyclocross Single Speed World Singlespeed Championships For Singlespeed Bicycles, and I can assure you I was truly unique because I wasn't wearing a costume.
(I'm totally stealing all these photos from my erstwhile Outside editor's photostream.)
When racing bikes in Portland, sincerity is the boldest form of irreverence.
While I'm waxing nostalgic on the Mustache of Time, this was also the race in which Stevil Kinevil of All Hail the Black Market and I faced off for a sprint finish so dramatic that the entire race fell away around us and for a brief moment we were the only two riders at the Portland International Raceway, or indeed on the planet earth. He'll tell you I won and I'll tell you he won, and the only thing that's certain is that neither of us had any idea what lap we were on--but as far as we were both concerned, the race was over. And ultimately, who won really doesn't matter, because the only loser that day was dignity.
Speaking of Stevil and cyclocross, if you're following this whole "Beergate" thing (and I can't blame you if you're not), he recently had the definitive word on heckling:
Let me be perfectly clear- I learned from some of the finest hecklers in this region’s history, and have been doing it for far longer than some of the aforementioned dicks have been riding bikes. Rule number one is to never, under any circumstances interfere with the race. You wanna throw beer on somebody? Throw beer on your friends at your local event. Or save it for a guy in an orange jumpsuit. Beyond that, if you don’t know the difference between a creative and funny heckle and a bald faced insult, keep for stupid mouth shut. It’s so painfully simple, yet clearly piles of people don’t get it.
Stevil is living proof that it takes true class to be a dirtbag.
Penultimately, I'd like to remind certain people that YES I'VE SEEN THE NAKED MIDRIFF PICTURE already:
While Stevil Kinevil may be the cycling world's heckling expert, when it comes to Colombia and partial nudity there is no greater authority than Klaus of Cycling Inquisition, who sums up the "controversy" thusly:
Their statement says that the team has been racing with this kit for nine months. It was designed by one of the team's riders, Angie Tatiana Rojas, and (as you might expect) appears more salacious in these photos due to shadows. The statement from the Cycling League of Bogota says, "this uniform was not designed with any malice whatsoever, and there was no intent in trying to objectify our athletes, or use them in such a manner for the sake of exposure for the sponsor." They also say that the kit was vetted and approved by the rider's teammates, though many assumed that the riders were being used, and objectified.
So there you go, and if you're worried about women being objectified then worry about the riders who participated in that Mario Cipollini "training camp:"
That was back in March of 2012, so the illegitimate children from that camp should be almost two years old now!
Time sure does fly.
Lastly, the California "three feet rule" has just gone into effect, so here's some safe passing porn:
You know who also gives three feet? Here's a hint: he's oily, he's a former professional bike racer, and he's the father of fifteen illegitimate two year-olds.