New Girl in Town

The tears shed over the departure of my first IF were quickly forgotten when the masters from Somerville sent down this new totally kick ass deluxe singlespeed. The setup from last season's geared racing bike was so nice that I wanted to put together the ultimate wrist snapping machine, only for this one I opted for the "feel of steel". The extra weight of steel over Ti was more then offset by the Lefty carbon fork (featuring the mandatory Team Seagal sticker and using a 321 adapter), chain tension is maintained via the Paragon sliders, allowing for vertical drops and Jones H bars which aid in being able to hold a beer after a 100 mile race. All of this is topped off by a Tahitian Pearl paint job that, like a black pearl, changes from deep green to deep blue to black depending on the sun, and of course I honor my wife who supports all my racing by naming the bike after her.

FBI Enlists New East Coast Syndicate To Fight Terrorism

With news of the foiled New York terrorist plot sweeping the nation, we are now at liberty to reveal that the NECS has been working secretly with the FBI to secure the woods of Stewart State Forest and Stewart Airbase from the ravages of Islamic fundamenalists. Making use of the training skills procured in the CIA and at the local dojo, along with recent recruit Clem (see last post), the NECS has carefully been combing the trails keeping an eye out for terrorists posing as innocent families out for a mountain bike ride. We recently came upon this "family" and after a full body cavity strip search found timers, fuses, bundles of C4, a temple ball of harsh and maps of the Stewart airbase. After hours of waterboarding with PBRs and nonstop songs from Barney, the terrorists cried out for mercy and revealed the details for the New York City plot. Score one for the U S of A & NECS!

Federal agents were gushing with praise for the NECS/Darkhorse Cycles riders, pointing out that "without those beer swilling kooks it could have been another dark day for America". Soon after, Darkhorse Cycles was swarming with news crews and paparazzi where one interview with the Mayor and the New York Times was overheard -

NYT - "This is quite a story, how did you manage to pull this off?"

Mayor - "I train these boys real hard, so hard they can sniff out an unopened beer on the side of the trail from 50 yards"

NYT - "Amazing, how did you do it"

Mayor - "Shop Sidekick, pull me another draft. Oh yeah, from lots of post ride drinking. Everyone on the team has the ability to pick an IPA from a C4 bomb in a blind test. BURP. Shop, I need another draft. We also have weekly sessions at the dojo and kegerator reviewing the technigues of CIA masters such as Steven Seagal to ensure the woods are safe."

NYT - "Will this impact the participation in the upcoming Singlespeed-a-Palozza"

Mayor - "Not a chance, in fact within minutes of the story breaking the servers at BikeReg were overloaded with entries for the event. Anybody that is anybody in singlespeed riding now wants to roll with the big dogs."

NYT - "Is there anything we missed"

Mayor - "Yeah, your pint glass is stil 3/4 full, get on it man!"

Muddier Then Thou or Two Men and a Growler

For the second straight weekend the Darkhorse Racing team took to the trails of the storied Stewart State Forest to mark the course for the upcoming Single Speed-a-Palolooza. Circling the parking lot I was beginning to wonder if I had my signals crossed or if the Mayor had one too many Stone IPAs and given me the wrong time. Then pulling into the lot like a WRC rally driver was my good friend and fellow trail clown 650B. This was the confirmation that the ride was on time (650B is always a few minutes late) and that no one else decided to show. The strangest thing is that no matter who we called (Mayor & Shop Sidekick)Hawaiian Mike's voice was on the answering machine babbling something about doughnuts and making it to the ride one of these Sundays. Seems 5/16 is impersonate Hawaiian Mike day - you don't show up for the ride after making it earlier then usual - it was decided the penalty would be a growler per rider at the next ride.
A quick scan around the parking lot and we found lady luck was on our side. We were able to enlist an honorary member for the New East Coast Syndicate for today's ride, Clem. One thing was guaranteed, we would rule the trails with this guy riding on the team.

Heavy rains the night before assured us that this was going to be a classic mudfest. Rossi and I set off to scout out the course and sure enough it was muddy with this being one of the better sections and requiring an assist from the tree to ensure clearing the section without a spill.

Having had enough of the swamplands, we both decided it was time to head off onto new trails and thus born out of the soaking wet loins and pulsating thighs of 650B and C-Dubs the latest trails "R-Dubs" which featured this small drop that if taken wrong assured the rider of a tumble down the rocky hillside of at least 12 feet before touchdown with mother earth.

A couple of times through Skip & Bill's, the Campground Trail and a second run through R-Dubs and it was back to the cars for growler time! Well all of you Darkhorse riders (Shop Sidekick, Mayor, Hawaiian Mike) you missed some great riding, great beer and Rossi complaining about how his pedicure had been ruined.

Mother's Day Madness

This Sunday was the day where we all pay homage to our mother's and wives (that is if they are still with us or we are still married to them) by getting up early and making sure we are on the trails at least an hour earlier then usual so we can get back and provide all of the support and love the women in our lives deserve. For me it was just another Sunday where my loving wife, Beth, sent me off to a ride, I gave thanks to my long lost mother and really didn't think twice about my ex wife, got to ride with the gang and of course drink some of the finer yeasty malted beverages from the good old US of A.
Finally back from the ravages of surgery, Top Chef was ready to go with 5 inches of plush travel and a pair of compression bib shorts that rivaled the corsets of the 1800's. After being off the bike for over 9 weeks we wanted to take it easy on our our cook and decided that today was going to be a day to bring out your dead - so off we headed for some of the oldest trails in Stewart, old friends that probably had not seen the knobs of a tire or the snot of a farmer's nose blow since the late '90s.
The fun really began with the first puddle where Sven/Ingamar/Richard/Tom Rossi made a go at yours truly but with skills honed from hours in the dojo I sensed the sudden quickening of the cranks on the 650b machine and with a quick stab of the brakes left Mr. Rossi spraying water on no one but himself. Well this game continued for a while until suddenly during one of the many mind f@*k sessions around the water holes good old Shop Sidekick decided it was time to get in the game.
After bit of the dicing around the water it was a quick right and we were onto the A/C trail, appropriately named as this is where all of the old air conditioners in Orange County go to retire and play shuffle board. Half way down the trail everything suddenly came to a stop as we hit the only turtle crossing in Stewart. While the Mayor was carefully picking the little guy up to move off the trail our Top Chef was into his camelbak pulling out the knives and drooling over the thought of a bit of turtle soup and IPA.

A bit further down the trail we came upon the ghost of Mike Davidson past, this tasty black single speed beach bike (contrary to any rumors this was not an Independent Fabrication test frame) that we all agreed was the spirit of Hawaiian Mike himself. Well I took that bitch for a brief ride, tried to catch some air (failed) and then ran into a tree (absolute confirmation that it was HM's spirit).

As the troops rode off into the distance Shop Sidekick and I enjoyed a quick rode of bike toss before sprinting back to the pack. The rest of the ride was dominated by the good old comraderie that years of riding together fosters and of course all of the reminders that Hawaiian Mike had once again failed to deliver on the promise of making it out with the guys.
Once again we all found ourselves pondering what had become of our long lost friend and ex mountain bike rider Hawaiian Mike Davidson. Well friends we were all in agreement that it was some like this at Casa de Mike -

In the kitchen-

Teacher's pet on the way to detention -

Mother's day with the family -

Getting the post ride "massage" -