628 Challenge - The Full Monte

With the curtain finally down on the race season (we here at the NECS are not big fans of Cross racing unless it involves a lot of beer) and the Mayor firmly ensconced in the new Dark Horse Cycle HQ, it was time for the first official non race of the season - The 628 Challenge, essentially a 2 person team time trial/orienteering race.The melee of the past week had left me mentally exhausted and questioning where everything had gone wrong in life. I had even put the call into the Mayor, officially withdrawing from the race. With a lot of encouragement from the Mayor, a healthy amount of manual labor, copious amounts of fine wine and another night of deep sleep compliments of my good friend 10mg Ambien, I awoke on race day with a superior attitude and superior state of mind (little did I know just how much I was going to need it!).
Remember how you always imagined what it would be like to ride in the peleton of the TdF or what it would be like to have a go with the top endurance mtb guys in the country during a race? Well today was my lucky (unlucky?) day to finally find just what it was going to feel like - Monte had selected me as his teammate for the event! For those loyalistas of the NECS that don't know about Mike "Monte" Montalbano there are two words to describe him - Focused Animal and his vocabulary does not include the words "second place". This is a guy that on his first try at a dirty century went down to the Shenandoah 100 and smoked the singlespeed class with a winning time of 8:02 then went to the Mohican 100, gave the Harlan Price the "Lance stare" and proceed to grind him into the dust for another win. I was scared and starting having visions of what this was going to feel like.There was a lot of laughing and finger pointing in my direction on how little I was going to enjoy what was going to be served up to me shortly. I rolled with the punches and fell back into my usual preride antics at the starting line, undoing the QR on MacGyver's front wheel, tossing his bottles to the side and trying to let air out of his tires. Having had enough of the tomfoolery the Great Gatsbysent the first team out. Silence swept the field as everyone took note of the direction Bill Lobb & Old Bill headed off in. Old Bill is the Magellan of Stewart, having put in more trails and miles then the rest of us combined and if there was anyone that would know the shortest route it would be this team. One by one we headed out in 30 second intervals with only Obamador taking a different route, clearly this was becoming less of an orienteering event and more of a flat out race, oh god was it going to hurt!
Finally we came to the line with only MacGyver's team behind us and Monte finalizing our strategy - flat out! We rolled off the line and immediately were into a pace line for the first couple of miles to the entrance to Stewart and we were moving! Not satisfied with the ratios of an mtb cassette Monte had opted for a 12/25 road cassette and I was doing everything in my power to stay on his wheel. As we entered Stewart we caught our 4th team (Senor Agua, Jocelyn & Infantile Tom) and Senor Agua hopped on my wheel and stayed with us briefly until he realized his teammates were over 100 yards back in no time. The very astute Infantile Tom threw a couple of verbal barbs my way as we passed and they were all shocked and amused at my inability to respond. Finally, a sighting of the rarest of all Stewart creatures - Poecilia C-Dubus Montalbania Reticulata. While there was no confirmed pictures, DEA officials speculated the creature probably looked like thisBy the end of the race there had been numerous sighting of this frisky little guy and when asked to comment C-Dubs could barely speak, mumbling something about leaving his lungs back on the trail.
Arriving at the first stop, the old umbrella factory, Monte punched his card then turned to me and asked "where is your card"? Apparently in a moment as rare as a full solar eclipse, while the Mayor was handing out the rider punch cards, C-Dubs was in the DH HQ doing his best to shatter the porcelain and peel the paint off the walls (hey when you race with Monte every last pound you can shed helps) and I didn't have a card. Using lightning quick reflexes from his years of being a conductor on New Jersey Transit, Monte did the old double punch and off we went to LTD passing Old Bill's team right after the factory and solidifying our overall lead. (It should be noted that Infantile Tom, to shamelessly gain time, threw the hole punch to the other side of the factory). Rolling out from LTD we encountered heavy traffic on the single track. A couple of "love taps" to the some bar ends sent some riders into the deep weeds and we were off for the 15 minute bonus at Beaver Pond. Shortly after leaving LTD I had my last clear memory of the race when we took a wrong turn and Monte's killer instinct came out with "we just dropped 1 1/2 minutes". Back on the fire roads its was another all out pace line as we took the long way to the Beaver pond (probably a 2-3 miles of extra riding). Approaching the check point MacGyver came by in the other direction having already procured the elusive punch. At the post race party he commented how I was leaning to one side and my eyes were glazed over - another confirmed sighting of the C-Dubs guppy. Then came the line that I feared the most "we're at least 5 minutes behind - we have to put the hammer down" (what the hell had we been doing so far?). Shortly after this rumor has it that Fat Chick had headed for the wrong side of the beaver pond and when he spotted Infantile Tom shouted - I think I'm lost. To which Rossi simply responded, no shit, and rode off to the next check point (I'm surprised he didn't throw the hole puncher in the pond as well). Before I knew it we were coming up to the check point at Major Mike and MacGyver was right in front of us. Despite my dazed and confused state of mind I was able to quickly calculate that in just a few miles we had recouped 4 1/2 minutes and were back in the game! On the climb up Major Mike MacGyver's teammate, Chuck, faltered and despite my state of delirium I sensed he was in trouble and there might be an opening. As we came off of Major Mike ahead of MacGyver we still didn't have the lead but I knew it was time to dig deep and once again put the hammer down to the final check point - 46er, a rusted old 1946 Ford. We managed to hit the check point, retrace our route back out of the woods and onto the final road stretch for home without passing MacGyver. I might have been hurting really bad but knowing we were back in the lead is just what I needed to make the final stretch to the finish.
Out on the fire road it was, you guessed it, pace line time and soon we were on Not Over 40 Miles and Mr. Happy. Knowing Monte wasn't going to want to provide any free rides I shifted up and pulled along side as we went past hoping it would be enough to get a gap and discourage a chase. With Monte calling the gaps we came to the bottom of the final climb where my tank started running on fumes. Suddenly there was a bright light at the top of the hilland the climb became a lot easier. "We have 50 yards on them" snapped me out of my hallucination and I realized that I had in fact not met my maker but was getting a bit of an assist from Monte in the form of a push. Once over the top there was still a gradual rise but I managed to grab Monte's wheel and power it home to cross the line in 55:05 catching the Mayor napping in the shop as he expected times in the 1:30 range!
With all of the teams in, (except Obamador, who was as lost as his namesake's policy) and the beers flowing, the final standingswere about to be announced when suddenly MacGyver dropped his nook, crapped in his diapers, fell to the ground and started crying hysterically claiming foul because C-Dubs failed to punch his card. The Mayor, acknowledging that what C-Dubs had suffered through was worse then thisawarded first to Team Pain Train(To get Monte's perspective on the day take a visit to http://rigidnsingle.blogspot.com/) Amazingly second place was a dead heat between MacGyver/Scott and Not Over 40 Miles/Mr. Happy. Immediately the call went out from the crowd to settle it as real men do - with a bike toss. Mr. Happy, fearing the combination of beer and the centrifugal force from the throw would result in a Technicolor yawn, sent Not Over 40 Miles for the attempt
Next up, having changed his diaper was Spartacus, giving the ladies a full muscle flexbefore letting loose with this Olympic silver medal winning toss.
And finally in the 3 person team category and sporting a true Beer Cross attitude of having fun were Infantile Tom, Senor Agua and Jocelyn "Straight Arm" Linscott. With the awards out of the way, the consumption of beer increased dramatically along with the outlay of dogs, burgers and clams which, as usual, were handled masterfully by Top Chef. And while Infantile Tom had reached his 3 beer limit before the wife arrived, he and the Mayor embraced in past memoriesas other members of the team gave their opinion of what to do with 650B bikes.

Phantom Phest - Rage Of The Boogie Man

Straight off the Raystown Lake massacre I had a few days back at home base to sort out the gear for this weekend's Phantom Phest night costume race. With the inbound supply of consumable alcohols building at the front door I opted to send Mrs C-Dubs off with the spirits and a bare minimum of riding gear, deciding to forage the man cave for the required equipment. Well on Friday as I prepped for the race I had that sinking feeling in my stomach that something wasn't right and it wasn't. The red Nite Rider pouches had been left behind! A quick call to the Mayor and text to the Raveinator and I was hooked up for the ride.
With Thor costume and hammer complete I planned to leave the hacienda at 4:20 which would allow for plenty of time to get there and even get lost on the way. Well not only did I get lost (the Tom Tom was taking me to the wrong wrong place) but right after we passed the entrance I realized my cape was still in the house. A quick shout of "I have no idea what's going on" and it was a U-turn with all 5.7 liters of Dodge Ram power screaming down the road. Some quick calculations by the Mrs and it looked like it would be touch and go to make the start, in fact to control the pace Mrs. C-Dubs was giving false time to destination readings to keep sanity behind the wheel. The plan worked and we arrived at the parking lot sans tickets/accidents with 15 minutes to spare. Mrs C-Dubs raced off to registration where she attempted to procure my number plate turned spoke card to no avail, I wasn't on the list. Suddenly it came rushing to her like a hot kiss at the end of a wet fist - Thor, God of Thunder - and sure enough fireworks went off and skyrockets shot into the air - I was in.Meanwhile back at truck I was busy prepping both myself and the bike while Top Chef tried out this mean machine.The Hobo SlayerWith enough glow sticks to supply a New York City rave, I set about securing them to every tube on the frame and fork to create the Tron bike. All I needed was a boom box with the Chemical Brothers and a bag of Ecstasy and this could become Fear and Loathing at Lippman Park.Special thanks goes to the Boogie Man/Raveinator/Shop Sidekick who pitched in to make sure it all came together in time for the prerace meeting.Similar to the affect of strobe lights on epileptics, the glow tubes were affecting the competition in a twisted way. Suddenly in the middle of the briefing a Roman gladiator pulled his sword and in stunned silence the peleton watched as Thor and his hammer took on the Roman and his sword.Braveheart stepped in, extended an olive branch and the two combatants hit Thor's flask of Del Maguay before the start.
Revved up on dumplings, Del Maguay and the power of Thor's hammer I hit out on the trails glowing like a remnant from Hiroshima. In the darkness I rode with the inner working of the minikeg coming loose and banging around incessantly. I could hear the cackling laugh of the Boogie Man as he howled my name whenever the course doubled back on itself.
Riding the lap holding the hammer in my hand was like hanging on to two handlebars which meant a minimal amount of front brake was available. Make for interesting riding when you venture onto new trails at night with limited capabilities to stop. Finally coming out of the woods on my first lap in 10th,I opted to hang with the ladies of the NECS (Mrs C-Dubs, Mrs Top Chef and Braveheart's calming force - Kate) unitl my fellow warriors crossed the line.Riding with this elaborate hood ornament proved to be a bit more then Top Chef cared to deal with for another lap so it was off with it's head, a shot of Del Maguay for all and off into the woods. As we raced into the night we passed howling ghouls, carved pumpkins in the corners and ghosts in the trees. On one straight with TC out front and Braveheart in close pursuit Top Chef took the opportunity to push the hanging man to one side with the evil intention of inflicting maximum carnage to the rest of us. Well good old Braveheart came up with the short straw and seeing the stuffed man he increased the cadence, lowered the shoulder and took it like a true Scotsman - right to the body. Suddenly on a night of the full moon there was another one right before my eyes and the kilted Scotsman was sent tumbling right over the handlebars with the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen. Luckily no one was hurt and we were back on the bikes pedaling for madly for the romantic full moon over the field view and of course the mandatory shots of Del Maguay. With the flask empty we headed off to complete the second of 3 laps and once again a hello to the ladies. At this point Top Chef and Nancy (Braveheart) decided that antique shopping was the order of the evening so I mounted my trusty steed and headed off into the abyss. In an amazing display of wrist snapping capabilities,the Boogie Man bolted into the lead right from the start and was able to hold off the competition until the final climb where a spandex clad non costume racer with gears made the pass. A truly amazing effort from the Raveinator!!!!Coming down the finishing straight I had the Boogie Man (2nd overall) and Hobo Slayer (6th overall) cheering me on so I killed the lights to let the full effect of the Tron bike hypnotize the course marsahals who then declared my effort had resulted in second in Masters - finally the drought has been broken.

2nd Annual Beer Cross - The Non Rules

With less the 6 weeks to go it's time to get more excited then our Chihuahua friend, perhaps this excited - This year we have bowed to the pressures of the non drinking contingent, not that this will make it any more pleasant or easier for those heretics, and will provide several options and a number of dizzy bats. Also there will be primo, never before given out swag for all that register and limited edition spoke cards to the first 25 entrants (so no pissing and moaning if you don't have one of these to hang on your wall).Without any further ado here are this year's non rules -
30 minute race
Alcohol consumption can be substituted for non drinkers - 1 beer = 10x around the dizzy bat or 12oz of eggnog or 6 sliders
Non Racers will be DSQed for not doing one of the options
Serious racers will automatically be DSQed (this is a non race)
No penalty for puking (in fact it could move you up in the overall standings)
Costumes Mandatory – 10 minute or 3 beer penalty at the start for not wearing one the entire race (and if you come in kit and claim to be a racer I will personally piss on you)
LeMans Start
Mandatory beer/10x dizzy bat/12 oz eggnog/6 sliders prior to mounting bikes
Mandatory beer/10x dizzy bat/12 oz eggnog/6 sliders per lap
Dismounting mandatory at the Growler Barriers (2 beer/20x dizzy bat/24 oz eggnog/12 sliders per lap per barrier penalty for not dismounting)
First across the finish line in the riding portion has to do a shot of tequila/20x dizzy bat/24 oz eggnog/12 sliders
Winner is determined by fastest time/most beer consumed/best costume and race committee's discretion

Major Mike Leads The Assault On Raystown Lake

For several months plans had been in the works for an all out assault on Raystown Lake, PA. The plan was for the troops to head west under the shelter of a setting sun, arrive in Raystown, suit up, affix lights and go out and snap the wrists of any Amish or geared bike riders we encountered on the trails. Well the mission suffered a critical setback before getting off the ground when Braveheart had to answer the call to battle for an ad campaign and C-Dubs got the Heisman when he tried to bow out of the office early.
Due to the delays encountered by Braveheart and C-Dubs, Top Chef picked up the Toyota FJ assault vehicle and headed downtown to load up on Chinese food to satisfy our hunger on the ride West. You can imagine the pain encountered as we headed into the belly of the beast - the Lincoln Tunnel at peak Friday rush hour traffic - it is right up there with the 200lb fat lady trying to squeeze into a size 2 dress, uncomfortable and downright ugly.
Not wanting to spill any of our dinner we opted for the pretzels offered right at the tunnel entrance. Braveheart, a bit skeptical, opted out believing they are kept warm by placing them on various car engines and exhaust pipes. Finally we emerged from the tunnel after a time that seemed longer then any Chilean miner had recently endured. Passing through the tolls we were startled by what had to have been a contestant on the Price is Right driving home with the winnings tied to the roof of the car.With traffic finally flowing we stuffed our faces with Top Chefs selection of one from column A and two from column B and settled into the long grind into the night. There must have been something in the MSG because a couple of hours later we all had a real hunger going. Immediately Braveheart had the Incredible Thing (iPhone) working, locating a bevy of fine establishments down the road. Now navigating with the Incredible Thing is right up there with night riding with a pen light and sunglasses on - you can see just enough to get yourself in big trouble - and soon we found ourselves going in every direction but the right one. At that point Braveheart pulled out all the stops and looked like Rick Wakeman on the keyboards as he feverishly worked the Incredible Thing and the Garmin at the same time. Foolishly we even passed up on a sure things with McDonalds and a brewpub in quest of the perfect pizza. While all of this was going on I found myself contemplating just how good a forearm cooked over the manifold would taste. Suddenly out of the dark there is was, well not the one we were looking for, but it was a pizza shop. With lightning quick reactions achieved through years of training in the dojo, Top Chef put the FJ up on two wheels to make the turn and we were in like flint.Turns out our primal quest had returned nothing better then a back alley pie and worse then the pizza was the McNeighborhood which kept us on McEdge the entire time. Periodic deployments were made to the McParking lot to ensure the weapons of mass destruction were still intact.Arriving at the house we were greeted by the Mayor and Major Mike, both fresh off of a night foray into the wilds of Raystown Lake. Immediately the Mayor commented on what a dump it was (at least sans roaches and bed bugs), tossed us a beer and tuned back into the playoff game. As my eyes scanned the room I wondered if I had in fact been transported back in time to the set of All In The Family - the entire room, furniture & TV were straight out of the 70's.Hawaiian Mike once again was "at a Cub Scout meeting", gee what a shocker that was and Infantile Tom was MIA having opted for the annual tent sale/Deliverance canoe trip put on by Ski Barn.
Waking up from the devastation incurred from the previous night's Chinese food and countless beers, in my altered state I witnessed what looked like the Mayor springing from under the covers fully dressed (classic Cannondale DH jersey and slippers)and bounding down the steps to brew up a fresh pot of Jittery Joe's coffee - praise Allah! Once we were all thoroughly jacked up on Jittery Joe's, Top Chef set about feeding the troops the infamous Egg McPaul, a breakfast that can power an entire morning of singletrack riding.With stomachs full we headed off in cool windy conditions for an assault that was sure to go down in the annals of Raystown Lake history. Major Mike, smelling fast trails and competitive riders set an early pace that soon was taking its toll and producing some late season trail guppies.Not satisfied with the pain being doled out, Major Mike upped the pace even more and while attacking on one of the rolling sections Top Chef encountered the rare Pennsylvania sliding oak leaf. This pesky little critter usually lays in wait at the apex of turns, camouflaged by elms and maples, looking to take out unsuspecting riders and take him out it did. I was right on Top Chef's wheel and it looked like a round of WWE with the Undertaker hurling a helpless Top Chef to the mat. On the way down he made an attempt to give a goodbye kiss to a sapling and the subsequent rejection had his head spinning like a demon was being exorcised from within. As his head hit the deck a tremor ripped through the region and a tsunami was reported on the south end of the lake. The initial damage can be seen in this shot and by the next morning it looked like some wisdom teeth had been pulled. (note the copious amounts of pain killers in the background)After a 5 minute timeout to let the stars disappear the Major decided it was time to mellow the pace and take a spin on the Hydro Loop Trail, an awesome, flowing ride through the pines and deep forest of the area.
The Mayor Grooves On The Hydro Loop TrailHalfway through Major Mike brought the troops to a halt and decided to scout the lake for a potential swim. Suddenly while Braveheart, Top Chef and C-Dubs were breaking out the trail towels there was a rustling in the woods and we made a rare sighting of the Pennsylvania MayorsquatchFinally we rolled back into the parking lot for lunch and a well deserved break before the afternoon's assault on the southern loop. As we pulled up to the cars we were greeted by a bevy of young ladies that were doling out their own version of pleasure/pain on the mountain trails. Being a typical group of males we entered into casual conversation, the usual banter of where, what , when, how and why, but all the time we were in this state of mind.By the time it was all over and they rolled out of the parking lot we were contemplating changing the team colors from red to blue. As we readied up to hit the trails both the Mayor and Braveheart were mulling over whether to ride or not. A quick "are you boys going to go antique shopping" from Top Chef and they were back on the bikes and leading the charge to the trailhead (amazing the incentive a bit of brow beating can provide).
The agreed upon "casual pace" lasted for about a mile and then it was back to the hammerfest with the usual devastation and destruction in its wake. As we neared the final miles we caught this shot of the Mayor staring into the woods desperately searching for his willpower which seemed to have abandoned him late in the day.In the final stretch of trail Top Chef, showing his technical riding prowess, gapped Major Mike and C-Dubs in the final rock garden. With the Major right on my wheel I could feel the commands deep within his head - C-Dubs if you don't catch him by the end you will drop and give me twenty, you maggot - so I did the dirty century deep dig and hit the afterburners, getting Top Chef's wheel in the final 1/2 mile of riding. With the carnage done the final count of the day was 34 miles of wicked fast singletrack with over 3000' of vertical (except for the Mayor who some how managed to get in 44 miles - probably delirium). Suddenly a penalty flag was tossed as we looked into the back of the Suburban and realized the cooler was back at the house.
At this point survival instincts took over and we raced to the beer distributor like an ambulance taking a patient on life support to the hospital - balls out fast!You can imagine the disappointment when we realized that in PA beer is only sold by the case! With supplies procured the Mayor, fearing cardiac arrest, immediately opened the case and had the first beer down before Major Mike could unlock the truck.Back at the shack the Chugfest began in earnest to celebrate the day's victorious ride. After eating way too much food at dinner and drinking copious amounts of fine yeasty malted beverages the well lubricated Mayor suddenly had the munchies so it was off to the market where we stocked up with moon pies, 5 pints of Hagen Daz, cheese cake and a bag of Snickers. Fully engorged on food and beer we decided to burn anything in sight at the campfire where the Mayor, having caught C-Dubs doing the chicken, dared him to keep eating dumpling, claiming after each one consumed that he would pass out. Well dare taken and defeat acknowledged by the Mayor as he headed off to bed. Meanwhile a battered Top Chef proceed to pass out first on a picnic bench, then in a camping chair and finally in the role of Archie Bunker before we all called it a night.The following morning, feeling the pain and suffering from both the riding and drinking, everyone (except Major Mike) groaned and faced with long drives home, called it a day.
Back in the FJ assault vehicle Braveheart was busy with the Incredible Thing locating the nearest Starbucks before Top Chef went into convulsions. After two different Starbucks stops we reached the home stretch and the feared Lincoln Tunnel once again. This time is wasn't the traffic that did us in but the chemical attack Top Chef unleashed right as we entered the tunnel. With a choice of carbon monoxide or ass gas, I opt for the windows down until everyone was out of the vehicle and headed home.
Major Mike Leading The TroopsRaystown Lake From The SummitCDubs Gives The Team Seagal SaluteMayor Goes Gangsta After Numerous Dogfish Head BeersBackwoods Pennsylvania Bromance

NECS Welcomes It's Newest Member - Partying Pete

Time for all of you affectionados of partying and riding to raise a glass to our newest member of the New East Coast Syndicate - Partying Pete D.
Pete happens to be, or was until today, a coworker of mine but has left the bank for greener (as in mucho dinero - hopefully) pastures. He has just the right mindset for membership in the NECS, total bravado, the willingness to do anything to get into a singlespeed race and the love of wrist snapping. In fact he went so so far that after missing the registration cut off for the infamous Singlespeed-a-Palooza, to gain entry, he offered to rest his nads on the top tube at the starting line and smash them with a hammer. Of course there was the trusty Mayor with ball peen in hand and as Pete lifted it toward the gods the Mayor screamed, "Praise Jesus you'll dent the top tube", and grabbed his hand, preventing certain horrifying pain.
As you can see from the shot below, not only does he has the ability to consume vast amounts of alcohol, spill food all over himself and smoke cigarettes even though he hates the things, he has mastered the Team Seagal salute. Well shortly after this shot the conductor shouted "Last train to NJ" but poor Pete was nowhere to be seen having fallen into the clutches of one of the many meccas of mammarys in NYC. Turns out the new office was initiated with it first drunk, unfortunately for Pete the a/c was out and he had the pleasure of spending a night on a desk in 85 degree heat.
Hung over, he managed to catch the first train home in the morning, give the Mrs. a quick peck on the cheek, take a cold shower and then head right back to the office. That's the type of dedication the troops of the NECS have!
Everyone give Pete the NECS shout out - "Him, Him, Fuck Him"