HEADER IMAGE DISCLAIMER

This is the only header Image you have ever seen that was not taken by me, as well it is the scariest. SS rider Dejay Birtch, photog unidentified. *This post has been completely corrected by the Fast Marsupial. New rule, no blogging after more than two beers.

Commute By Bike Headache

A few Stay Alives ago near the end of the Albemarlean Travers something jumped out and grabbed my wheel from under a shrub on the right as I sped along the sidewalk. A loud bang, friction drag and within another few seconds really bad noises yelled out accompanied by the locking of my rear wheel without my control. I dismounted and looked down for the source of my delay and immediately noticed the thick wire that had snagged a spoke and then wrapped itself around the drive side of my hub in that little space between the cog and the spokes. It looked bad right away and I actually expected to find who knows how many broken spokes. Thanks to the strength of my 7+ year old Mike Perry Built Wheel, not one was damaged.
I then went to work trying to get the wire out of the place it had become lodged.
The operation became a semi-pain in the ass even after I took the wheel out. The thick wire was wrapped tightly multiple times and I did not have my wire tools on board.

Saturday Badin Lake Ms. Arcen's first Fish

This was our first trip to Badin Lake with the time share canoe since last year. Ms. Arcen, Zoo and I got a late morning start on the water after putting in out on Kings Mountain Point in the Uwharrie Recreation area. It was hot, near 100F but all of that water and a light summer breeze made the conditions feel not so bad. Zoo the Bluder had never been in a boat before so we gave her the rules up front: DO NOT BE CRAZY. She did well and wound up sitting, standing and laying on the floor of the canoe in between Ms. Arcen and I while we paddled for our first destination which was the big undeveloped island directly to our north.

Within a few minutes from leaving shore Ms. Arcen asked me to drop the line of her fishing pole with a small Mepps Minnow spinner already on the swivel out the back of the boat. I cast the bait off and let out a bunch of line before closing the bail and resting her pole in front of me. The paddle paced trolling line was out and we continued over the water in fine fashion. When we reached the island we went left along the coast staying 10-20 meters from shore and worked our away around the point towards the north side of the island where we found a sandy cove perfect for swimming. When Ms. Arcen jumped out into the water for the swim she had on her mind the entire morning, I took charge and reeled in her line. Sun light was bouncing off the water when it hit. It was there but not big, at first I even thought it may have been weeds or a small twig or I would have handed her the pole immediately. Then the small striped bass(8-10") broke water a few feet out. Ms. Arcen was blown away seeing this was the first fish we had caught in the last six years of trying. I took it as gently as possible off the hook and handed it to her. She petted it softly on the head and made a comment about how the silver scales felt to her. I watched as my kid lowered her hands under the water and slowly released her grip as the fish darted quickly into the depths in front of us. Mein Shatz smiled and went back to swimming with the husky who looked perfectly natural in the setting we were in.

For whatever reason, perhaps it was being caught up in the moment of father/daughter transfer I did not stop or redirect the events to make an image of her first and perhaps only catch. Later on in the day I did however take the ones you see below. We went to three islands total that afternoon and spent over fiver hours out.

Late Night(east coast time) Editorial Psot

Yes, I know I spelled it, Psot.

Someone, a kind soft skinned soul whom sometimes smells like a lotus flower just finally after almost 14 hours later let me know that Swazey actually said, " As I was riding here I actually started to shiver even though the ambient temperature is coming up on 100F.", not, "As I was ridding here I actually started to shiver even though the ambient temperature is coming up on 100F."

Why Patrick(or any of you fine folks for that matter) didn't send me an E-ball busting is beyond my comprehension. I know you did but maybe he didn't even see it...haha on him.

Another question is why do I not take a minute and re-read my tripe(especially short tripes), if I did I would be a ton more less embarrassed than I feel right now. I have re-read this shorty nine times and cannot find anything like ridding in place of riding.
I think I have too many irons in the fire...

A photo for your viewing pleasure.

Serious Delivery, Gettin' Some on the Square during a Hate Protest. This kid is reaching deep into his suitcase of pro level style and has earned the Star Studded Jersey of the Month.
photo credit: Me who lets things get by his editing process.
PS. I am sleeping in until 19 minutes before my morning commute. There will be no mistake ridden(get it?) post in the morning, instead check me out on Twitter. Ha, Ha.

Cryo-Vest me a River

HOT, HOT, HOT!! Yesterday afternoon at the start of the CMA's daily call to burnt virus ridden possum piss flavored coffee, Veterookie(enough time in service to rate Veteran status, however still rookie to me and forever will be) Swazey skipped into the coffee house sporting his brand new Cryo-Vest under that ugly homemade sleeveless jersey. Yeah I know Swazey, the other dude spelled it Swayze but as you already know because you are one of my many daily readers, this is my B-Log and I will spell it how I feel like spelling it.

After taking a minute to flaunt his newly acquired cooling 'Get Up', this icon of the Charlotte Messenger Scene sat down with me and shared his rancid brew while openly answering some questions that I posed to him.
Billy(trying to pull myself together from a 3 minute real laugh): First of all thank you Patrick for giving me that laugh. I haven't laughed that hard since a few weeks ago when Kangalangamagis was telling us a story about short cubes and practical jokes in the bank world.

Swazey: You are welcome and most jealous indeed aren't you?

Billy: So, tell me how your sportingly new Cryo-Vest is working out for you.

Swazey: This thing is rad, I am chilly and about to order more of those little cryo-packets. Do you want me to order you some so that we can save on shipping?

Billy: No thanks Swazey, please remember that I am the one asking the questions.

Swazey: Okay, but if you decide you want to order any let me know so we won't have to pay double shipping.
Billy: Tell me about your Cryo-Vest.

Swazey: The vest is made up of something like 136 of these little clear packets that are pressed against the front and back of my torso. I put the packets containing the 'special' cryo-fluid in the freezer for 10 hours and then I strap them to my body.

Billy: Does it work?

Swazey: Yes, I am actually freezing right here in this chair, pass the coffee please. Look at my hand, it is shaking, do you think I am getting hypothermia?

Billy: Once again, please leave the questions to me. Is the Cryo-Vest long lasting? It is obviously cold right now.

Swazey: It is still very cold, almost freezing. As I was riding here I actually started to shiver even though the ambient temperature is coming up on 100F.

Billy: Really, when did you put it on?

Swazey: About twenty minutes ago when I left my house after lunch.

Billy: Hmm, sounds like a good investment. Are you happy with your ROI?

Swazey: Sure, anything that helps me do this job more comfortably is well worth the investment. The return is the illusion of temporary relief from the sweltering conditions.

Billy: Like that frozen evaporation scarf you had on last week?

Swazey: Exactly.

Billy: Well Patrick, thanks for sharing your work related purchase story with me and my beautiful audience.

Swazey: No problem, thanks for letting me buy you yet another cup of coffee. Can I take this thing off now? I really think I may going into cold shock...

A Bore Shun

Wednesday on the Jar's Square at Midday, notice the preacher man's hand signal for 'push'.
I am not sure where to begin, maybe there is no place to start. Early last week while going about my two wheeled business Uptoon in the Jar I noticed a rally call that blew my mind all over again. On the square I saw a group of several dozen men and a few woman in a peaceful anti-abortion protest disguised as hate. They all wore simple attire and similar over the top to be worn on public day only Christian themed T-Shirts made in nowhere. The shirts advertising had words like; Christ and Hate on the same sleeve or back of those demonstrating their personal persistence to own something, anything even if it is right to fill one's own ego by choosing to stand on such an authoritarian reproach. They scared me that day just like they had the first time a few years ago with their amplified anger and random speak of biblical reference. As if Christ himself would be happy to see his toon likeness doodled onto the sleeved backs of such diverse ignorance.

I do not have an opinion, this is not an argument or debate, I merely observe and look right at what I am riding towards. This Group whose organizational name has made such a lack of impression on me that I cannot recall has been back every year since. Unlike these gatherings past, this year's event ran all week with a crowd that seemed to ebb into an almost critical mass on Thursday in between 1100hrs and 1500hrs. It is always the same thing with a splash of a few new banners(the old to be thrown away under the earth's surface somewhere as Jordan noted in the comment line of the original post in 08) to stand under and scream about the Love of God in front of. The last time I shared this spectacular display of good Christian Faith with you was this post that I ran in January of 2008. Notice the similarities and the subtle differences in the projection of the human spirit in search of something to believe, therefor be. It is interesting to me to look at both photo documents that are just over two years apart in comparison and contrast.

The only day that I felt enough calling to document the proceedings on the Square was on Wednesday, even though a larger crowd formed midday on Thursday. As scary as the below pictures are, imagine that the very next day on the opposite side of the street in front of the Big Disc that few people realize can be spun with enough humans in force, a crowd of several hundred followers had formed in front of the stage to listen and share thoughts in unison. Our Now. That fervor lasted for a few hours before it melted away seeking shelter from the heat. I am happy to report that this show packed up on Friday afternoon and may not show up again for months.

Sorry to creep you out first thing on a Monday with the following pictorial, it has to be done.
Hand out not always reciprocated.
As a matter of fact I did not see many take the 'free' paper.




This little fella has been around for awhile. He looks good, right?
Go on preacher man...
Go on.
I spied something on this table that I felt would motivate the likes of The Ghost of Jerry Reed,
this one's for you you pal.


Lunch.

Friday Evening Special Dog Post

Meet ZIP, the Jack Russell Terrier/Chihuahua mix whom presently lives with a brilliant foster care giver in Asheville North Carolina.(I just realized, photog unidentified but purely talented)
Sorry I missed all y'all this morning but priorities involving the three toddler aged German Shepherds' return to the Humane Society of Charlotte took precedence. You know how I roll, sometimes I may miss day or whatever but you can always come back and see if anything worth a look see is here. By next week which is only a few days away I will be posting some scary real excitement that took place this week up in the Jar, plus I should have a good pictorial and words documenting tomorrows yet to be water born paddling adventure with Mein Shatz and perhaps one of the permanent bluders.

Until then please take a minute and read the note that Zip, the emailing capable dog with worse grammar skill than yours truly sent me yesterday in her typed attempt to find a permanent family willing to befriend her as soon as possible. If you know someone who may want to help because you cannot, please feel free to forward my link. Direct questions my way and I will help you coordinate with the folks that you should be coordinating with. Thanks and remember, they do not need much but they do need you...

Hiya!
My name is Zip (cause I'm speedy fast) I am a 9 month old, female, Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix who is looking for a home to call my own. My first peoples didn't love me enough to keep me, so I moved in with my foster mom and all my foster brothers and sister. I LOVE to play, but when i'm tired I just want a nice warm lap to call my own. I love chewing on bones and stuffy toys, but not much else and I love to play outside! But I will need a yard with a fence, cause sometimes I get distracted and don't listen to foster mommy but I'm working really hard on that. Will you be my perfect family?

Creepy Mail Delivered

BICYCLE MESSENGER MINUTES:

As you may or may not remember, last January one of my morning mail runs revealed that Victoria is not so secret after all. Since that day I have been looking down into that tub on my bars each morning in search of a clue, a ray of light that would lead me to unlock the mysterious secrets of this ever expanding Universe.

The other morning before I even had the chance to look down I felt little beady eyes scoping me out from within the confines of the US Mail Tub. When I looked down rolling I screamed like a six year old, swerved the bike into and out of the gutter then pulled myself together.
Gadzooks! Are you seeing this?

Nebular Theory of Connectivity

This one was in the eastern sky on my way home a few hours after making the document of the stacker over the south end the day before yesterday.

Monday Clouds Under Clouds(Back to Basics)

Yesterday afternoon I was rolling in from the South End is Near headed for the big buildings when a drop of rain fell into one of the vents on my helmet and trickled down through my hair onto my skull. I looked over my shoulder and at my back saw a huge black cloud stacking as it moved towards me. Yeah, yeah I know another cloud and blah, blah, blah. However, fortunately for me it goes way beyond any mundane perspective of our atmospheric conditions constantly changing and never the exact same floating above my head. Constantly changing and never the exact same, like human emotions, the one thing that we all really own but rarely take stock of.

The following group of cloud images was made by me yesterday afternoon starting shortly after 3pm. I used the little/big Sony and truly wished that I had packed the Nikon and Botzie's old(1972-1973) 300mm lens Monday morning instead.

Corner of South Tryon and Stonewall looking southwest.
The following three images were made from the ground in the center of Tryon(when the light at Stonewall was Red) parallel to my position above.
Present header replacing Table Rock NC.
Notice the high Cirrus perhaps more than 20,000ft above the massive low cloud. They are both clouds but very much disconnected.
At the same corner to the right is the new Duke Non-Renewable Energy Building that I have Top Secret Clearance and access to. The building is 240m(786ft) tall and has good high windows on each floor. I locked my bike and ran inside to catch an elevator for a southwest facing window 120m up. This is what I saw from that vantage.
The next three shots are closer inspections of the dramatic presence of such a cloud mass.
Look into it and all across for some discovery of scale.
The burbles and risers appear like a landscape bigger than I can imagine. If this cloud was solid, I imagine that it would be fun to be up there on foot exploring all of the nooks and crannies of its articulate design.

Requiem Ride Report-Transfer Complete

Two miles after I left the barn on Saturday morning I realized that I had left my camera bag on the work bench. It was impossible to back track so I made the ride without a camera realizing I would just have to be descriptive with my words in an effort make a verbal image. This is the first(and only) self portrait that I have created with my brand new eyephone. Yes, I now have an eyephone because of some new work that I started doing last week. More on that later.
It was a strange to see my morning commute from a Saturday perspective at 0655hr. To my right and then back as I turned off of Lawyers onto the gutter of Albemarle, the earth's fifteen thousand mile an hour lunge forward through the cosmos spinning on axis towards the glowing hot sun gave the illusion that the star was actually rising off of the asphalted horizon. A light that I usually see an hour later in the morning on weekdays looked entirely different. There was no traffic, maybe a total of a dozen cars across the full length of the Albemarlean Traverse. Orange filtered sun beams bounced off of whatever was in their way and where they could not reach were many dark shadows around corners and in the adjacent tree lines running perpendicular to the sprawl. When I looked over on the left from the seat of my bike surfing the no pride walk, an empty KFC was being blasted by light which reminded me of the drug that it is. The inbound scene was a picture perfect of failure and could of doubled for a few of the back drops in the film, The Road. A song came into my head half way across to the South End, it was music I had never heard but I knew it. No words at first just the rhythm of being alone and riding on an apocalyptic ready landscape.

I made the Cool & Cool where Yurgen met me for Coffee, tea and a custom egg sandwich, each slightly different but both had been driven through the garden. We rolled out on a printed 16.3mi cue in my pocket for Mount Hollywood on a hill just west of the Catawba river. I made the route the day before by using Google.com/maps' bicycle option. I had already thought out my route to MHW in my head without the computer thinking that what I was seeing in my mind was not necessarily the shortest way but it would be the safest. As it turned out the googlemaps sent us out of the South End and onto Freedumb Drive for a few hundred feet before we turned right on Thrift and ran parallel to Freedumb by ditty bopping through the real city of Charlotte. I had never seen this quiet morning hood before. We stayed mainly in the morning shadows of tall oak trees and street front buildings along Tuckaseegee Rd. Seems like the first ten miles of the cue had us making a turn every few hundred meters. We passed CONStar, a plastic bottle manufacturing company on Tar Heal Road, their tattered American Banner was flying high in the hot morning breeze on a rusty pole near the even more rusty buildings of the facility. The illusion was there within this industrial section of Charlotte that I had never explored before. Not a single auto snake troll did we meet or pass as the evergreen tree lined road meandered quietly in front of us. A business park of logistics, storage, chemical distribution and retail gas all the way to Paw Creek still with no cars. Paw Creek had a tiny little Post Office along the tracks that was dwarfed by the fuel tanks on the same street. BP was there as were another few local and regional names, it looked like a smaller version of what I used to often see in New Haven Connecticut along the water. Tank Town rolling through the back way across the river.

There was only one sketchy section that lasted for under two miles of our route. We rolled in across the river into the small downtown of our destination in one hour. For some reason I had cushioned our departure time a bit too much which left us an hour and a half to occupy our time. As luck would have it we came upon a little down town farmers market that had a pop up tent set up in the center of the little quad. I walked towards it only to be interrupted by a little woman around my age who attempted to scold me from under the brim of an over sized straw hat with her authoritarian reproach for something that did not matter. People like that get on my nerves and I am no longer afraid to make them aware of that fact when the situation arises. I found a seat next to a Blue Grass Circle forming of about seven or eight players. Acoustic Mountain music filled the air around me with songs like, Wash in the Blood of the Lamb and There's More than One Pretty Girl in the World. Something frozen and colorful made of local fruit on a wooden stick wound up in my hand. The small local crowd looked unique under the cooling white light being filtered through the even more white fabric of the nylon tent. A man a few feet away with his mouth slightly agape continued to stare at Yurgen and I as if we were foreigners, our summer beards a complete give away. As I studied this older gray headed man I could not help but notice that his humongous mutton gut compost was shaped like the back of a baby elephant pushing outward against his shirt front. I thought to myself that maybe he had a tape baby elephant, like tape worm, only much bigger. Voice and Clarity intertwined not only within me but in all directions surrounding me.

It was time to leave for the last few miles to our destination which was a church where we were going to be part of The Celebration of life for Matt Goelzer. I do not feel comfortable to attempt a descriptive of the events that took place during the celebration but I will say this, my immediate response: Be You it All Full or translated from crack speak to Beautiful. I was happy to see the cloud synchro against a blue sky and even bluer ocean painted on a giant mural at the front of the chamber. I ran in to multiple smart people that I have known and ridden with from as far back as 1993, including an original member of the even more original Statesville based Stem Posse. I also saw Sweetness and as well wound up putting a name with the face of Vance whom has been lurking the corridors of the uptoon for years on his high end road rigs of which at least one is armed with carbon four cross wheels. The encounter felt spiritual on a level that I rarely have the chance to experience. Truth.

Yurgen and I rolled away with Sweet Rob behind us in his car as lead auto from the back. I decided after checking with my wing man that we would ride a completely different route back, a modification of my original pre-computer aided cue in reverse. It was a more gorilla approach back to the Jar but it offered what I felt was less turns and a more direct transfer to the Cool & Cool. We climbed from the church up and over the I-Hatey Five Corridor and down to the 74 in the bottoms. Yurgen led us east back over the river and on the climb out just passed the run down inoperable weigh station loud southern rock started to blare from behind a wooden fortress wall high up on a slanted kudzu covered hill. What ever was going on up there frightened me at that moment. Up over the first climb right and through the trailer park baking on both sides of the road in the sun. Swooping green low traffic descent down over a creek and then another climb with turns and steps and steps and turns up to Old Dowd road. There had been big commercial planes flying in and out over our heads all day long. We must had gone under three separate flight paths twice each by the time we reached Old Dowd. The aircraft looked ominous, being clearly filtered by the haze they were helping to create just a few hundred feet over our heads. In a bend we stopped so Yurgen could make an image as these monster metallic human transports rained down exhaust on us in 3-4min intervals. After the fourth fly over we left to jump back on the 74 for the few miles up to Moorehead Street. On the 74 traverse my eyes started to burn and I am not exactly sure why even though I know that I did not have gel in my hair. At one point the burning sensation was so bad in my left eye that I had to keep it closed while riding and I could barely see out of the other one. I wondered if I had gotten gas in my eyes while I watched the under bellies of the airliners descend above me. Yurgen was wearing glacier glasses with the side patches and may have avoided the spill into his visual cortex. I on the other hand may have been a victim of my own stupidity. We completed our lariat back to the Cool in what felt like no time at all.

I immediately saw myself in the mirror and what I saw was strange. My eyes had lightened two shades of hazel to almost green and the whites of my eyes were blood red and hazy looking. Shit, I thought to myself as the cool water from the Cool eased the pain which was now set in. Time passed and a Belgium real Beer came by that was infused with some sort of refreshing summer time fruit. It may have been apple or peach that gave the brew a clean happy cold flavor. A few folks gathered round and told stories of recent experiences in their lives, of friends and how important it is to recognize the light within each of us. Rosemary bread appeared in a paper sack that I stuffed into my messenger bag for the ride out out if there. Rain passing with dark clouds hit the street all around me as the fenders kept the spray off of my back. I could see many clouds rolling out of the south and west in the early evening sky. Some were wispy thin and others solid thickly animated. The theme of clouds kept on in a representation of human emotion moving through this thing called life.

Death of a Fellow Human

Last night a friend called while I was watching the previously recorded Stage 8 of the Tour to tell me that fellow cyclist and all around good guy Matt Goelzer died on Saturday. I am not completely clear on the circumstances of his death but I do know that his light will be missed by his family, friends and many folks that he came in contact with. Matt and I met what seems like a long time ago because of Mountain Biking. There were times we were on the same trail and usually while he was passing me he would have a short kind word or make a funny face that would inspire me to keep pedaling. He was fast and clever indeed. I am thoroughly shocked as I am sure many of you close to Matt are at this present moment. There are many thoughts going through my head right now but I cannot put them in enough order to logically convey to you what I am honestly feeling. Maybe in a day or two I will try to tell a story about my interactions with Matt. Until then I am re-posting below The Funniest 'Help' Your Friend Move Story Ever in which Matt was a key player. Goelzer, you will be truly missed...

I made this Image of Jordy on the porch of Boots' parents' pre Civil War Constructed home out on Beatties Ford Road. I was informed that Boots grew up in this house that is on the National Registry for being built over 160 years ago. The following is the transcript from the emergency session that I had with my therapist Dr. Bloggy at 0100hrs this morning.

Dr. Bloggy: Wow, Billy it sure is late or is it early for that matter? Either way you said that you could not sleep, what's up, the perpetual War of this fine Nation has you using your brain for something other than recreational shopping again?

Billy: No Doc, not this time. Actually I have a funny story that I thought you would appreciate and the sooner I get it off of my chest the sooner I can go back to sleep and the dream I was having that I had lost 100 pounds and got a Moots Sponsorship.

Dr. Bloggy: You realize that dream is unrealistic, if you lost 100lbs that would put you under a hundred by a stone and you would not retain any of your strength. Anyway, go on, what was your funny weekend story?

Billy: Well, about a week ago I received a text message from Boots(this used to be his blog, I think he Facebooks now) saying that I was one of 3 people who was being asked to help him and his little family's stuff move from his parents' house north of town to his new place in Plaza Mid-Woody. The move was scheduled to start at 0800hrs on Saturday August 1, 2009. See, Boots is married to a lovely lady, they have one small son and she is pregnant with their second child.

Dr. Bloggy: Plaza Mid-Woody? I love that area, I hear there is good shopping close by. Sorry, go on Billy.

Billy: Well anyways I was not sure who the other 2 were but I responded that I would be there and that he could count on me. In the middle of the week I intuitively invited Jordy to help thinking that his extra set of hands and strong back would be an asset. Jordy has only been in town for a few weeks from his 9 month Iowa transfer and we have not really had a chance to get caught up. Plus I knew a crack out was on the horizon and who better to share one with.

Dr. Bloggy: Billy, we talked about your usage of the 2 words put together cracked out, remember people may think you have a crack addiction when you have never used the toxic substance. You are speaking metaphorically right? Do go on.

Billy: Yes, of course I use that term metaphorically, with everything that is actually happening on the planet who really needs crack. Anyways Jordy and I show up 5 minutes early eager and ready to commence the Boots family move transfer. There were Doughnuts but seeing I had already eaten my oatmeal I declined. Local cycling legend Matt Goelzer(center in blue) was one of the other 3 and the third did not show, so by bringing Jordy the help number was back up to 3. That is 4 strong movers if you count Boots. In the kitchen before the move started a lady who turned out to be Taryn's mumpty cornered me about my articulately carved calf muscles. She yelled through the hall that this must be the one Taryn was talking about, "Look at those legs." Matt looked down thinking she was talking about his paltry little legs until he glanced over at mine gleaming in the light like 2 olive tan porcelain spaghetti bowls.

Dr. Bloggy: Billy, your calves have nothing to do with this story, do they? Please, go on what happened next? You are on the clock you know.

Billy: Next, Boots showed us around the 2 stories and pointed out in full delegation style the boxes and things that had to be moved down to the front porch and then onto the horse trailer which was attached to a big pick up truck. The kind of truck that you would see being driven by an easy going guy, the heartbeat of America. So, after the run through we went to task getting things down stairs staged for the trailer. Up and down, Boxes, chairs, some buckets and those plastic tubs good for storing things. Up and down, down and up. Occasionally I would help one of the other guys move down a big thing or 8, like chairs, sofa, dressers and a crib at the least.

Dr. Bloggy: Billy you look like you are about to laugh, are you okay?

Billy: Yeah Doc, I am fine, I am about to get to the good part is all. Next with more stuff still coming down Boots and I started loading the trailer with the bigger items so that we could start stacking boxes. The trailer loaded well and everyone was reaching deep in that first hour. Just as the trailer was about loaded Boots looked at me and said, "Once you guys(Jordy, Matt and I) leave here you will follow my dad to the storage unit down the road, load up the rest of the boxes and then follow him to our new house down off the Plaza." That was the first I had heard about a storage unit but the kicker was that Boots had to leave for his real job just as we pulled into the storage unit. In other words he only gave us 15 minutes notice that he was bailing on us so that he could go to his job showing shiny pictures of bike parts to the Bujahideen. I thought he was joking at first.

Dr. Bloggy: Was he?

Billy: Hell no, he wasn't joking at all. As a matter of fact the joke was on us. When we got to the Storage unit Boots showed us what we had to do, jumped in his little shiny car viper and took off. That left Jordy, Matt, Boots' dad(who could not lift much at all) and I to do the rest of the work. I looked at Jordy, he looked a little cracked out, like a reflection of me and then I looked at Matt who smiled like Bill Murray's character on Caddy Shack. At that point we were alone in front of the unit and decided that as awkward as this situation was that we would band together and knock out the rest of this move.

Dr. Bloggy: Was he expecting you to unload the stuff into the new house as well, without him even being there?

Billy: In the few minutes after he sped away I was wondering that myself Doc. Of course he was. He also under estimated the amount of boxes and other IKEA approved furnishings that were in the storage unit. We loaded up what we could but there was around about a half trailer left at the storage unit as we drove away laughing our asses off towards his new place in Plaza Mid Woody near the corner of Cool and Cool. Right before we left the unit his dad said, "Well, he is just gonna have to suck it up on the rest." So, we got to the new and waited for the trailer to arrive by unloading the bed and other stuff from the back of Jordy's truck. We were told to take our shoes off, yea right. Then the trailer arrived. We unloaded it by 1100hrs including putting the numbered boxes in the appropriate rooms which was identified by the master inventory list which was a pink sheet of paper. We called out the number and were given our orders on each box, thankfully the numbers only went to 65. All the furniture went to the appropriate rooms as well. When we were done unloading I went to say my good byes.

Dr. Bloggy: That was it, end of story?

Billy: I thought so too Doc but Boots' dad came pointing down the steps retracting his earlier statement about his son sucking it up and asked us to go back up to the unit and load the rest of the 'stuff'. I immediately balked trying desperately to get me and my comrades out of this awkward situation. I felt like I was talking to my ole man so after hemming and hawing I was in the back of Goelzer's car headed north to the storage unit committing myself to another 2 hours of labor without being able to share that with the home owner I was moving.

Dr. Bloggy: So, did you guys Git er done?

Billy: In pro level style, fast, somewhat accurate and careful but above all with honor and honesty. We finished the move of Boots in around 5 hours and only had his managing presence for like the first 45 minutes. As soon as it was over Jordy and I headed over to the Rue for a coldie and some laughs recounting the circumstances of being part of what has to be one of the funniest move your friend stories ever.

Dr. Bloggy: Is that the end, is there anything else you want to say?

Billy: As a matter of fact I think I saw a Twit or something from Boots later Saturday night saying that, "Finally moved in to our own place!! Taking visitors...give a ring or hit me up here.10 hours ago · Comment · LikeUnlike". This made me laugh harder than the first run into town truck transfer with Jordy. What a hoot indeed.

Dr. Bloggy: Well Billy, as always I am glad talking to me helped. Can you go back to sleep now?

Billy: Sure can Doc and I think as long as I concentrate hard enough I will even be able to get back to that Moots dream that I was having.

Sunday Ride Schematic-Confession

*All visual Aides in toonday's post were donated by Eric.
The profile of Saturday's classic Wilson Creek ride is an interesting piece of data that combined with the map gives a good overview of our route.
Ian 'The Pony' Lione in fine descending form holding a sweet line.
Out of the seven of us on Sunday's ride, four of us including Dicky, Eric, The Pony and I have been riding together for a few months short of twelve years. Nothing to take away from the three newer guys but I realized early on the first climb while spinning alone through the dead that there is something special about my friends. I have always known that these were quality humans but alone from the saddle spinning up 181 after so many years, rides and life changing moments for each of us individually it was clear and new.

Time flies or is like some sort of bending warp that acts like a catalyst for climbing. The Heartbeat in my chest is pumping blood through my system of skin bag, bones, muscle and water. Up the asphalt is mostly shady and a bit cool compared to the air of the Jar that we left a few hours earlier. When I ride into a sunny spot on the upward slope of road I look down and see my left hand on the grip of my carbon handle bars. It is like looking at a living sculpture or something else artistic. The skin tone, veins, lines, wrinkles and bone structure were right there for me to study on my own paw. In the crescent shaped cove between my thumb wrapped under the gray grip and my pointer over the top I notice a movement that I do not think I had ever seen before. It was the pulse of my human system visually apparent, glistening sweat in the glowing bright sun. Pedaling uphill does not always require looking straight ahead so I watched my own heartbeat in my hand as distance and time were slowly covered. The skin raised and lowered with each beat of my pump reaffirming my status as alive.

Confession is not something that I believe can be quantified down to a small boxy room and the penance issued from another human ordained to hold such power. I have learned that it can happen at the instant I realize that I made a mistake and that mistake had an impact on others. With that realizations comes a sinking feeling in the woods at a trail intersection high in the mountains. Still the car is far away so there is no running from it, only towards it with the knowledge that a punishment is not something to accept from anyone. The look in creates an honest assessment of the choices that I made which led to the pain of now, eleven years later. Choices, a scholar once pointed out to me that we as humans have a unique capacity in that we can constantly make choices. We can choose what to do at any point in time and then we can immediately make another choice.

Down Raiders faster than I can ever recall. The trail was perfect as was Eric's line all the way through the bottoms. Time passed in what seemed a slower manner than the first climb even though we were wide open with as few brake taps as possible. My guilty feeling drifted away out of the back of my mind and body over the rocks and downward sloping terrain. High banked turn, swoop down straight away. Eric's rear wheel kicking up a football sized rock chunk, I steered smartly around it and hit one for myself. The thick smell of the summer forest engulfed my brain as we descended lower into the hardwoods. I can see the creek coming up below us out of the corner of my right eye. This descent of atonement would be over in a few hundred meters but the emotional and inner body transfer that I experienced will be with me for the rest of my days...

Wilson Creek Mountain Ride(For those with Top Secret Clearance Only)

How lucky am I? Let me tell you, not only have I been able to ride in the mountains of North Carolina two weeks in a row but on yesterday's ride I got to witness an advancement in mountain cycling technology that we were all duly sworn to keep secret. Mums the word here and for the record, all of the images below have been cleared with Bad Idea Racing in compliance with the guidelines for keeping such a secret, secret until the time is deemed for the knowledge to be released to the public.

Top Secret Clearance Riders: Dicky, Eric, The Pony, Dennis, Kangalangamangis, Dave 'Whole Lotta Watts' Elliston and myself.

The roughly 25mile route: We parked at the bridge on the FR982 below the Dirt Mounds on 181, up FR982, up 181, down Greentown, Raiders, Brown Beech Road, FR982, Sinkhole and done in enough time for a cool water creek swim before heading back to the Jar.

I made this image right before I started the 181 climb. Table Rock is on the eastern edge of the Linville Gorge, adding a splendid feature to the skyline. Click big and notice the atmospheric haze apparent in between my position and the rock. Or just look at the Header above.
On the early train Kangalangmangis continues to explain how he spent one hour removing all of the gel from his hair before we left Charlotte.
This shot was almost scrubbed until both of us realized that part of the top secret advancement in mountain cycling technology had already been secured in the secret pocket of my Ergon Pack.
Kanga was so fast going up FR982 that he beclouded himself in my lens.
Another image that was closely scrutinized before approval came.
Down Sinkhole.
Eric rolling towards a scary huge log on Sinkhole.
He managed launching it with skill and a cleverness so fast that I missed the shot and only wound up with this. Sorry Eric.
The Pony positions himself in a manner that clearly obscures the view of the secret.
The Top Secret that I have been referring to in this morning's post may or may not be related to the medium sized bag of Cotton Candy seen here in a cubby on Rich's dashboard
"Dave, did you see that bag of Cotton Candy in Dicky's car? What do you think it is for and what is he going to do with it? Do you think it has anything to do with his plan to dominate at ORAMM? Did you notice that the package of cotton candy he had was the good kind that comes in three colors?"