Is This The Confirmation That The Dinosaurs Are Extinct?

Well fellow devotees of the big wheels, you might recall one of my past writing about the extinction of dinosaurs such as the 650B our beloved Infantile Tom likes to ride (despite a limited selection of forks, wheels & tires). So enamored is Tom with it's quirkiness, he has often been seen shedding tears of happiness after a venture through the trails of Stewart, and as more beers are consumed he willingly spews countless virtues of it's superiority to big wheels (kind of like a less endowed guy claiming size doesn't matter).
Rumors are running rampant through the region that Infantile Tom's beloved Vicious Cycles frame has incurred the dreaded headtube crack and while we feared the worst might have befallen our dear friendwe were relived to know that he was safely back at the shop pitching tents and generally f*#king off in the stock room.
The ability to save the patient is in question as Vicious Cycles founder, Carl, has disappeared off the face of the planet. Our search for him on the Internet did came up empty and eventually we were directed to the US Consumer Product Safety Commission where we found this drawing.Completely distraught over the potential loss of his dear 650B, the NECS did what any good friend would do and directed him to Newburgh's local shop that would have the expertise to make the repairsbut due to the recent fallout between Paul and Paul Jr. there is speculation that the frame has been cut in half with each side taking a piece and is a central point of the pending lawsuit between OCC & Paul Jr. Designs. Stay tuned to the Discovery Channel for more details as this exciting story unfolds.

MFXC - Time To Rumble

With SSAP in the books it's time to head to the great Midwest, land of Budweiser and PBR for some serious ass kicking, wrist snapping fun. We'll have almost as much fun as Steven.

Singlespeed-a-Palooza (aka) Monte-a-Palooza

Well my dear fans of the New East Coast Syndicate, after an aborted start to the season that saw all of us bail on the Tour of the Battenkill this weekend we finally kicked it off and in style. The Mayor and Raveinator had spent the past week prepping the woods for Singlepseed-a-Palooza, perhaps the largest gathering of wrist snappers on the East Coast. Having suffered through SSUSA, the Mayor was as determined as ever to ensure that on one came away from SSAP in anything less then full shattered mode. The course, having undergone minor revisions when a early preview ride left yours truly heading for the parking lot early and a number of the other riders in a state of shock by the time one lap was over, turned into another mudfest (recall this event)- when once again it rained on the Mayor's parade and close to 2" of rain was put down on the course in under 10 hours resulting inRace morning dawned cool but sunny with the inner circle of the New East Coast Syndicate/MRC gathered around the FJ assault vehicle for a prerace round of egg rolls and green tea.
Top Chef/Code 420 The Beloved Braveheart Yours truly (sporting the special edition number plate) Of course this being a singlespeed race meant one thing was certain, C-Dubs would be riding his trusty steel IF with a flask full of Del Maguay mounted to the frame. As the synergy of the impending race spread through the parking the NECS was pulled from all corners by a mysterious vortex to a central location to pay homage to the Mayor and the great god of agave.
Then there was a man on a mission, 2 time defending champion Mike "Monte" Montalbano, my feared and revered teammate from the 628 challenge and he was prowling the grounds like a cougar circling for the kill, sizing up the competition and getting the game face on. Well this was the last we would see of good old Monte until the post race party. Lining up for the start Braveheart and I made the decision that the race for last place and the case of Terrapin Moo Hoo was to be ours and ours alone so when the gun went off we slowly rolled off the line just in time for the start of the women's division. By the time we entered the woods Braveheart and I were in the mix for DFL but still had to let a few of the ladies slip past which was easily accomplished as we passed through the start/finish area and took our first Del Maguay/PBR break. I mean the first 2 miles of a race can be pretty brutal and really work up one's thirst.
Going into the woods for the run up Scoffield (aka The Trail From Hell) we were able to get a taste of (literally) what was in store for the day. The long climb up was pure mud bog and, still being in a somewhat coherent state of mind, I did the smart thing and got off and walked. This was the last I would see of Braveheart until a PBR was passed my way in the finish area. My vision quest to finish last and take home the Terrapin required me to hone my trackstand skills as the pace at the back often made me feel like I was going in reverse. About a mile from the end of the first lap there was a red blur and I almost dove for cover in the woods fearing an attack from Muslim radicals with RPGs.Turned out it was good old Monte putting a real big hurt on the field and it took almost 5 minutes before DJ Birch passed me right at the finish line. At the top of the climb DJ gave a nod and commented to me on what a race it had been. I merely turned, pulled a fresh draft from the keg and responded "yeah and now for my second lap, trying to finish last is tough". As I rode off, beer in hand, he was still standing there, mouth agape, trying to comprehend what C-Dubs had just spewed from his pie hole. Out on the second lap it was more of the same, walk, trackstand, drink from the flask then ride. Coming up to the final two miles I caught up to a guy that had been riding the entire second lap with a wheel that was tacoed so badly it had rubbed all of the anodizing off the inside of his Lefty (good thing it wasn't a carbon sl!). I really felt pretty pathetic trying to stay behind this one but with 23 miles in the books in last I wasn't about to give it up like a drunk girl on prom night (easily)even though he truly deserved it for such an effort. The final section of singletrack had perhaps the best waterhole of the day and I stopped at the top set up for the photo shoot.And believe me there were plenty more of these on the trail that day.
Now you have to ask why is this man smiling? (he thinks the was last and had won a case of Terrapin, only he wasn't)So ends another mudfest at Stewart and now it is off to St. Louis for MFXC non race.

Non Tour Of The Battenkill

Yes my good friends and loyalistas of the New East Coast Syndicate, it is that time of the year we all wait for with great anticipation. Springtime and warmer temps while being one of them is not what I had in mind, rather it is the official start of the season and the spring classics.
While the pros in Europe have been battling it out at the great classics such as Milan-San Remo, Gent-Wevelgem and the Tour of Flanders, we too have been doling out the pain with our own (at least in our minds) classics. Among these are the Chinaman 100, that ends with spectacular explosions on the famed climb of the Mur de Hopheads. This features a leg snapping climb at the finish with a profile Phil Ligget has referred to as "my favorite pub stool", and it's super steep finishing ascent (with a final pitch of close to 85 degrees) that has been known to make many a rider collapse face first after draining the winners coveted crystal stein.So brutal is this race that only two riders dared to take on it's challenge this year.
And no one takes on the Darkhorse-Peekamoose-Darkhorse with any less respect. The gradients of the climbs might be significantly lower but the backwoods pave will test even the best wheelsets and rider's mechanical skills while the shotgun toting, moonshine swilling locals that line the gradual slopes of the Peekamoose climbmake for close racing in the peleton. Riders treat this climb with special respect as getting spit out the back of the caravan could lead to a life of slavery cutting wood and man servicing toothless hags that defy the logic of even the most serious beer goggles. Past years have seen the winning attacks launched from as far out as 45k as riders fuel up at the famous espresso bar Jack & Luna's but the backside up the Alp d'Minnewaska is where the field is typically shattered and the sprinters relegated to the back of the pack.
This weekend it was time for not only Paris-Roubaix but The Tour of the Battenkill, upstate New York's answer to the elitism of the Euro cycling scene. Rolling up the line for this year's classic would be NECS team of Muttonchops, Bill the Lobster, Senor Aqua (fresh off another crushing victory at Beer Cross), Top Chef, C-Dubs, Infantile Tom and Braveheart (who was considered the hands down fastest descender this year). The organizers, in battles with the UCI and USA Cycling over the participation of Pro Continental and ProTeams, ended up moving the race from it's traditional Saturday pre Paris-Roubaix slot to Sunday and direct competition with the UCI calendar. Immediately upon this announcement Braveheart threw his Lampre kit in the face of Director Sportif, Giuseppe Martinelli, declaring "take your Euros and shove them, I am going back to the good old US of A for some real racing".
With the starting gun fired the team immediately went to the front, turned up the burners and let the rest of the peleton know that if you want to be in contention on this one you better have a ticket for a ride on the pain train. Crossing the fabled covered bridge and approaching the opening climb Top Chef moved to the front and set tempo up the climb, towing the rest of the NECS over the top. The rest of the field was shattering with tongues hanging out like dogs ready to lick some, well you know what, and the pain train whistle blowing. Through the rolling sections the NECS put on a virtual clinic in team time trailing with pulls being shared by all and the pace leaving the smell of melting clinchers for the rest of the field to enjoy. With a sizable gap on the field established the pace was throttled back as we went through the feed zone and fueled up for upstate New York's version of pave - unpaved, pothole riddled back roads. During one of the longer descents Braveheart moved to the front and demonstrated his skills at mastering the Newtonian theory of gravity, stringing the entire team out in a 70kpm snake down the mountain. Senor Agua and Muttonchops moved to the front and provided the leadership as we scrambled over the rollers leading up to the final climb of the race. At the base Top Chef once again moved to the front and set the tempo with the entire team riding nose to tail. On the final descent to into the finishing town of Battenkill it was Issac Braveheart Newton moving clear of the rest with unparalled skills on the descent. Rounding the final corner it was going to any ones race to win and as I dropped a gear and zipped up the jersey to prepare for the finishing sprint and a shot a glory suddenly it all went wrong and the alarm clock went off letting me know it was time to get to the chores around the house.
The moral of the story - slotting such a powerhouse team into one of the latest starting time slots, driving 4 hours up racing 3 hours and driving 4 hours back to the city and hitting the sack after 10 pm on a Sunday made about as much sense as this.Intelligent minds prevailed and we bagged the race and spent the weekend getting in some equally kickass riding and were able to relax and enjoy the 2 days off from work.