Thursday, June 18, 2009

Pedal Every Inch: The 24 Hours of Big Bear, 2009 (Part 1)...

Introducing THE PRINCIPALS, listed in order of their appearance in the race...

BALER: First 24-hour race. A SSOFTie. Tall and uncharacteristically lean. Not quite a Clydesdale. Blonde (a true hun). Clean shaven. Hands like a goddamn grizzly's, sans the fur. Stoic. A closed book. Forgiving. Unlike most people his size, doesn't tire easily on the long haul. Strong. Competitive. Consistent. Something of the college kid lingers about him, a nebulous boyish quality that makes one lowball his age. Wears bike-theme t-shirts when not on the bike. Unassuming. Strong bike ethic. At some fateful point in his life, a bike grew out of his ass all at once and never fell off. It's how he gets around. Period. Generally has decent taste in beer, but the puerile lure of fraternity days gone-by still calls to him, like a siren song, leading him back to founder on the cheap stuff. A shame. Drinks enough. New to the team. Riding a Q Ball (fixed).

JOE: Team Captain. The Single Speed Outlaw. Tall (though not Baler tall) and unbelievably lean. Short, dark hair. Trademark sideburns and soul patch. Born on the bike. Impossibly strong, every way you parse it. Rides dirt ten days a week. Thrives on a steady diet of unprocessed rock. Utterly relentless. Dependable. Talented. Tough. Highly competitive. For him, winning is a fait accompli. A true mash-ochist. An aging punk. Old skool. A legend. Rode SS exclusively before that sibilant abbreviation even made the lexicon. Never disappoints. Ever. Leaves nothing in the tank when it's over, needle past empty and spinning 'round to start again. Not given to hyperbole. Habit of wearing bike socks when not on the bike. Unparalleled taste in beer. Drinks his share. Caffeine fiend. A team veteran. Riding a Q Ball (fixed).

THE KID: aka Dan Atkins. Honorary SSOFTie. Tall enough and ridiculously lean. All bone and sinew. Long, wavy mane. Clean face. Chin slightly cleft. Leonine features. Taciturn. Polite to a fault. Swears like a comatose mormon. Twenty years old. Let me say that again: twenty years old. Excepting his bike skills, he could be my son by several years. No, no shit. (Okay, I started a little early, but still...) Given to hanging around old fucks at races. A legend in the making. Strong. Talented. Fearless. Competitive. A glutton for punishment (is it punishment if you enjoy it?). Reliable. Consistent. Really, really white-skinned. A not-so-secret weapon. Has been known to associate with a geared bicycle now and then, though we forgive him for this. Is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Drinks good beer when it's offered (hey, he's still a kid). Doesn't drink enough. A team veteran. Riding a Karate Monkey (fixed).

ME: The old fuck. The least skilled. The least strong. A SSOFTie. A little more balls than talent, but just a little. Slow, steady. Dependable. Given to faking it. No finesse. Sarcastic. Often says the wrong thing. Means well. Built upside down for biking. Exhibits a high degree of natural vascularity (from mom's side). Longish hair. Facial scruff. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Light brown hair. Skinny wrists and cartoonish, ape-sized arms. No ass. Big nose. Good teeth. Bad posture. An aging punk-wannabe. A mix of cabbage & potatoes and bratwurst & sauerkraut, with a viscous drop of the same apocryphal indigenous-Indian blood every white male American claims to have slogging through his veins. Drinks too much fire water, though nothing distilled. Given to wearing beer-theme shirts when not on the bike. Knows better. Rides too much road. Doesn't ride enough dirt. Signs on for shit that's over his head. Says "fuck" too fucking much. A Caffeine fiend. A team veteran. Riding a Karate Monkey (fixed).

Next up, THE PLAY, in three acts.

5 comments:

DiscoCowboy said...

already too fucking funny.

Jon BALER said...

nice write-up, been missing your posts. By the way, how is 215 lbs not a clyde? Otherwise, a pretty good assesment.

camps said...

I had Baler figured for a former Division 1 quarterback. And this mtn bike shit is nothing compared to big people jumping up and down on you.

pabiker said...

Say the word Jon, and we'll put together a clydesdale team - I'd even SS again for that. Know any other fast big dudes who are cool?

2drunk2shift said...

there is that sweet fucking shirt again.