Look at the smile on that face!

Ladera Ranch Criterium [4/5 40+]:  After three laps he attacked and Frank went with him.  They worked together and held the break to the end.  Yellowman missed the chance to go with them but worked the peloton at the front to help prevent reeling them back.

Frank, forever the consummate sportsman, thought it wrong [i.e., not in good spirit] to sprint against his break-away partner at the line for the victory since the other guy had initiated the break and worked honorably in their effort to stay away.  Frank: 2nd.

They’re showing some good form.  Congratulations Frank!  Bella Figura!

Be Animaux!

I’ve been riding over 28 years with a lot of the same boys,  in the Peloton, on the streets of the  Southland where we regularly ignore vehicle codes.  Today is the first moving violation while on a group ride; running a stop sign.  That’s some damn good luck we’ve had.

We were ambushed. Not that it wasn’t deserved.  Apparently the local residents have complained bitterly to the authorities and a “sting” was set up to trap law-breakers.

Venue: Turtle Rock descent to Shady Canyon.  The left turn at the park, at the bottom of the Turtle Rock descent, before the right turn onto Shady Canyon, was being watched by the local police. Jake and Joel were at the front and made the left turn without a thought of  slowing down [normal procedure].  They ignored the Prius waiting to turn at the opposing stop-sign, on the left, at the intersection. Everyone else managed to comply with vehicle regulations; not because we are more inherently law-abiding, but because we were waffling in the confusion of Jake and Joel’s apparent hesitations and reluctance to continue. In the intervening seconds it took us to get to the intersection, there was also the necessity to seriously consider the Prius [turning right or left]; we also heard a loud speaker announcement and then saw the patrol car sitting there.

It was a very polite encounter.   Mr. Jake took the hit.  Joel was honorably standing-by, waiting for his ticket too, but apparently the officer was satisfied with issuing a single violation.

The ticket could cost Jake as much as $400.00.

I believe everyone should contribute to the expense of the ticket.

Let’s find out the exact amount of the fine and devy it up between us all.  Jake’s gonna have to bear the burden of the “points” against his license. 

Contributing to the fine is the least we can do.  We were all there together.

B’Animaux.

Thursday morning speed workout: El Dorado Park.  6:15am || 45 minutes|| High Tempo || 1.75 mile circuit.

Once again, two of the big motors [UberFred Deluxe & SuperFreddie] were missing.   El Señor Tortuga [the Assassin] was left to own devices to entertain himself.

Nothing extraordinary.  The Assassin couldn’t get away.  He attacked, taking the Mexican with him and the Yellowman  in tow.  The Mexican took his pull in the break and uncharacteristically got back in with the encouragement of the Assassin ["come-on, come-on, get back on!"] and continued as Yellowman took a pull and then [Yellowman] totally blew.  They held everyone off for about one lap and then it all swelled back together again.  Yellowman came off after his pull in that miserable break and was never to be seen again.

On the final lap after turn three, two cars were on the course.  The peloton slowed to assess the intent of the vehicles [much to the chagrin of the Assassin] and then went around the cars just before the fire station.  Picarelli [the Little Italian] was up the road about 150 yards.  DrDave was driving at the front, followed by James, the Mexican, Crawford and the rest.  The Mexican knew they’d close the gap easily before the sprint.  Through turn four Picarelli could feel the heat as the gap diminished.  Over the manhole cover, the Mexican jumped around Fixie, closed the gap on the Little Italian, held off Crawford and everyone else all the way to the line.

The Mexican declared the victory satisfying yet melancholy; he missed the sweet [like pan dulce] opportunity to have matched wits with Mr. Bubbles. [Mr. Bubbles didn't show for the morning ride]

Mr Bubbles has declared: “…need to settle a score with a certain sombrero wearing cyclist.”

The Assassin was pissed that everyone continued to the sprint and  totally disregarded the cars on the course.  He turned and left to go home, grumbling to himself about everyone’s pathetic performance and their lack of caution regarding the cars.  I told him if he had simply kept the pace about .5 mph higher we would have been well ahead of the 7:00 opening to cars in the park.

Lesson: When there are too few big motors in the peloton, it’s “2 to go” at 6:47 – not “3″.

Last Wednesday’s sprint was such a surprise to Mr. Bubbles, it was essential to continue the fun today.  And what better way to start than to make deals right from the get-go?  Guero, Jake and the Tortuga were on board to upset the favorite.

It was all fun and games to the signal at Bolsa Chica.  At one point during the ride, Tortuga rode up and pointed to a couple of the boys (sweet-talking eachother) [we'll leave them nameless for now] who were also busy brewing a strategy; apparently talking about the alliances that prevailed.

About 8 riders took off at the signal; no real fire power in that line-up.  I mistakenly went with them, albeit, reluctantly, with the intent to sit on their wheels.  Like an idiot I was half committed and never really sat on.  I was somewhere “in between” with no protection.

Then the chaos began.  The swarm came around me; it was a mess.  I was scrambling to get on a wheel without going over the white line.

Half a mile from the railroad tracks, attacking from the back, Mr. Bubbles and Picarelli come screaming by [in that order - one in the other's draft - you could smell the contempt in their cadence]; there was no chance to get on those wheels.  And at the same time, as the Hessian was coming off the pull, rolling back, Tortuga rushed up to give me his wheel but Scott Clark was holding on too tight [like he was being led out to victory] – couldn’t get in. Then, there I was, caught behind the Hessian, who suddenly ran out of juice [damn Hessian PuTard], couldn’t get around him – by the time he got outta the way, everyone rushed by [can't jump out over the white line - it's dangerous out there].

Pure chaos.  The signal at Seal Beach Blvd was green and the peloton never slowed. Rode hard to close the gap.  Never saw Mr. Bubbles’ wheel until we got to Studebaker.

You learn who your friends are by their fidelities in the peloton.  Some are up for a little fun; some gotta bet on the favorite; some purely opportunistic.

Oh well.  There’s always next week.  Muy Chicharrones!  Lesson: gotta ride smarter.

Long Beach Press:

Louis M. Gabor Jr, a 67-year-old bicyclist who was struck by a pickup truck in Bixby Knolls on July 6 has died as a result of his injuries, police said.

Long Beach resident Louis Gabor died Tuesday in the hospital, where he had remained since being critically injured almost two weeks ago, according to information provided by Long Beach Police Department spokeswoman Lisa Massacani.  Read the article at LongBeachPress.com

GhostBikes.org

Ghost Bikes are small and somber memorials for bicyclists who are killed or hit on the street. A bicycle is painted all white and locked to a street sign near the crash site, accompanied by a small plaque. They serve as reminders of the tragedy that took place on an otherwise anonymous street corner, and as quiet statements in support of cyclists’ right to safe travel.

The first ghost bikes were created in St. Louis, Missouri in 2003, and they have since appeared in over 150 locations throughout the world. For those who create and install the memorials, the death of a fellow bicyclist hits home. We all travel the same unsafe streets and face the same risks; it could just as easily be any one of us. Each time we say we hope to never have to do it again — but we remain committed to making these memorials as long as they are needed.

Saturday August 6 [one week after completing an IronMan ] the DougBoat was spotted running [shirtless & sweaty] north on Bellflower near Atherton @ 4:30pm after having ridden to Corona Del Mar earlier that morning.

DougBoat has a serious issue brewing: Tri’diction.

The stud-man shelved some of his biggest convictions [eating, drinking & drinking, . . . ] to prove to himself he was still a viable human.  Everyone was certain it was just temporary insanity, but rallied around his challenge to encourage his drive for success.

Perhaps it’s time for an Intri’vention.  He might need help.

Or, maybe, he’s gonna take his freddidom to the tri-level.

Animaux: he’s oFf.da.ChIZ.zÁin.

Like Lambs [to slaughter?]

It’s been rumored the description [like lambs] was used to describe the boys for today’s El Dorado speed workout:  como corderos.

Two big motors [UberFred Delux & SuperFreddie] were missing. This left the big diesel engine alone, all by himself, to toy with his prey, but it’s uncertain who was toying with whom.

Numerous breaks were attempted but none succeeded.  The lambs [his prey] were able to neutralize the attacks.

On turn three of the final lap, a park ranger was stopped on the road while a visitor’s car rolled onto the course and split the peloton, funneling everyone through three narrow corridors around the car & truck, disrupting the sprint to glory.  Billy Harris was disappointed.

The MexicanSongBird and Billy Harris both had flats; goat head thorn season is upon us.  The Mexican’s flat was first and you could hear the Bubble-Man throw out a shout in dismay as an acknowledgement that the Mexican would get at least one or two laps of rest in his legs [the Bubble-Man was intent on sweet revenge having been unsuccessful at closing the gap after the Wednesday sprint when the Mexican got the jump on him].

como cordero que llevan al matadero
[lambs to their slaughter]

Be Animaux.  Stay oN da Chiz’ záin.

45minutes!  On the Gas.  All comedy.

This report of bicycle advocacy has been circulating for a few days now, but it’s worth repeating:

A few days ago, in Vilnius, Lithuania, mayor Arturas Zuokas gave word to drivers parking their cars in bike lanes.

“I’ve had enough of these drivers parking their luxury cars on bike lanes and pedestrian crossings,” said Zuokas, a former war reporter. “This tank is a good tool to solve the problem of parking in the wrong place.”

And so, the 43-year-old mayor went oFf da ChIZ.zÁin and rolled over a blue Mercedes parked in a bike lane.

Review the news article at The UK’s Daily Telegraph

Luci ! !  eyt’z broh’cân!

Be Animaux.
Stay oFf da ChIZ.zÁin

According to the developer, you control shifting with brain waves. Currently the concept is in development; the video demonstrates a prototype.

Initially, the cyclist trains the control through an iPhone app [in development too] until the neural technology associates a thought with the neurotransmission [huh?].  When that neuro-link is established, the rider will be able to shift gears using the same nuero patterns.

The big question: Is the average Freddie IQ adequate to control this device?

I dunno. It’s tough enough just sitting in the pace-line thunk’n’bout that wheel in front of you, let alone trying to thunk the derailleur into action.

The Prius X Parlee is sponsored by the bikemaker Parlee and Toyota as part of its Prius Projects program.  To see the details of each phase in the development of the concept, visit the project’s website http://www.toyotapriusprojects.com/#/011

Be Animaux.  Stay off da Chiz’ záin.

A picture is worth a thousand words, but shouting all those profane, multisyllabic utterances of wisdom [even all at once, simultaneously] wouldn’t untangle that mess; it needed the hands of a professional.

“Tortuga ! . . . Help! ! ! !”

I’m telling ya; gotta adjust that derailleur, take a couple links out to shorten the ChIZ.zÁin  and get some new pulleys while I’m at it.

Datz all messed up.

Luckily the pro-[magnum]-man was there to sort it out.  Be Animaux.