RAI Giro Coverage

I could listen to the entire broadcast in Italian. They have an energy and passion that oozes through the speakers. Got the link from Gewilli. Tutto bene.

RAI Mediaportale

Wish I was Flandrien

Aside from the rants and observational fluff my aim is to also give my dear readers something that sucks the marrow out of their bones.

Enjoy the suck.


The portfolio of Belgian photographer Stephen Vanfleteren


Thanks to Velorution for the watermarked photo and the interest pique.

Dawn of the Un-Man

"Every man thinks that his burden is heaviest" - Bob Marley

Un-Man walks into bike shop. Un-Man sighs heavily to let mechanic know he needs immediate assistance. Mechanic calls salesperson over to finish sale in progress. Un-Man wants service NOW. Mechanic's interest is piqued. Un-Man wants to do "big ride" on Sunday. Mechanic asks what Un-Man needs to get him on road for "big ride". Un-Man explains his bike makes "ticking" sounds and "doesn't shift right". Un-Man further explains that he would do it himself but Un-Man has been "real busy". Un-Man also thinks job would be easy because it "probably just needs grease". Mechanic puts bike in stand and checks shifting. Un-Man crosses invisible line into "shop" area to see what mechanic is doing. Mechanic wishes stereo was loudly playing Bad Brains, not The Cure. Un-Man looks quizzically at mechanic. Mechanic gives diagnosis as new chain and cassette. Un-Man asks price. Mechanic obliges and mentions it's in stock. Un-Man doesn't like price and makes new offer. Mechanic declines. Un-Man sighs heavily. "Fine". Mechanic does on-the-spotter to be rid of Un-Man's polluted chi. Mechanic rings Un-Man up and sends him packing. "Have a good ride." Un-Man doesn't turn around. "Yeah".

Photo credit: Ebet Roberts

Giro d'Italia 2007

The Giro d'Italia begins Saturday. Go to cycling.tv for coverage. It'll cost some coin and you'll need Internet Explorer (no Firefox, unfortunately) to access. The price is moderately cheap and includes uninterrupted (bandwidth permitting) coverage so you can enjoy more racing and less PBR plugs. Allez!

Don't Forget the Struggle, Don't Forget the Streets

"Raybeez" Barbieri was the frontman for Warzone, a NYC punk band that formed in 1982 and played some pretty raucous tooth chippin' thrash. He was something of an icon for me in my impressionable youth. He wrote "Don't Forget the Struggle, Don't Forget the Streets" about the commercialization of hardcore music. Raybies died of pneumonia at the age of 35 in a VA hospital in NYC. He's the one hanging upside down.

Sometimes, I'm digusted with the human race. I abhor the hopelessly bland look-a-like developments in the suburbs. I despise the pervasive drive to convert every sliver of prairie into a fucking industrial park. And, I hate all the traffic congestion that goes with it .

I've been riding the same routes since 1991. I have five that I ride pretty regularly and change them up on different days to accommodate traffic patterns and boredom of the same old shit. As the years pass, these routes are slowly being suffocated by over development, poor urban planning, and addiction to the automobile. The days of riding two abreast amongst lighter, friendlier traffic are over. Riding in the western suburbs of Chicago has become a battle, or "war" in the contemporary, testosterone fueled, us versus them, lingo.

Drivers are becoming frustrated and lashing out with more regularity at riders, who are deemed an impediment to forward progress. They swerve, honk incessantly, pass closely, yell obscenities (usually some variation of "fag"), and pull a whole lot of other douche bag shit. I'm not much of a fighter, so I usually ignore them or laugh. You've got to have pretty thick skin to ride amongst the mongoloids. Otherwise, you invite confrontations that you will almost always lose.

Regardless, after sixteen years of riding routes that have shaped the bulk of my cycling life I'm not ready to give them up in pursuit of some maze-like, traffic dodging, stop sign fest that the automobilists would like to banish us to. Hell no. I'm gonna stand my ground. I won't forget the struggle and I won't forget the streets. I won't forget my roots. I won't sell out. Raybeez would've done the same. RIP.

Mad Props Vol. 3

Mario Cipollini: Sprinter, Joker, Playboy


Mario Cipollini, in my eyes at least, was the greatest sprinter to ever grace the professional peloton. Not only did he regularly kick the shit out of his contemporaries from the front at 300 meters out, he was a flamboyant joker that loved to perform for his publicity hungry sponsors. I'd hesitate to say the "Lion King" had an ego as opposed to a supreme confidence. He was always charming, often complimentary of his rivals, and sometimes, outright humble.

Cipollini beat Alfredo Binda's record for Giro d'Italia wins in 2003 with an incredible 42 wins to his name. Although "Super Mario" (another nickname) had a reputation as a womanizer and partier, he obviously was a focused racer that had the utmost devotion to the sport considering his consistent dominance. "Mario the Magnificent" (yet another nickname) ended his career in 2005 with an uber-impressive 191 victories.

Photo credit: Graham Watson

This Looks Bad

The second stage of the Tour de Romandie was marred by a massive pile up. I don't miss this side of racing. The entire crash may last only .2 seconds, but when you're at the launching point like the LPR rider (black and white) it seems like everything moves in slow motion. Reportedly, no injuries were serious and R. McEwen took the win.

Photo credit: cyclingnews.com

Mad Props Vol. 2

Don't mess with Tullio.

As legend tells it, on 11 November, 1927 on the Croce d'Aune pass Tullio's frozen hands couldn't loosen the wingnuts to fix the flat tire on his rear wheel. Soon thereafter he patented the quick release hub and the rest, as they say, is history. His company, Campagnolo S.p.A., went on to create some of the most memorable bicycle jewelry ever.

Names like Record, Super Record, Gran Sport, Croce d'Aune, and Nuovo Record became revered in the industry and amongst the masses. Campagnolo blended glorious designs with modern technological and metallurgical advances to fabricate some of the most sought after bicycle parts ever. Magnesium wheels for autos and motorcycles were also made for a short time. Even the pope got in on the Campagnolo action when he received a 50th anniversary group in 1983.

Name a legend of cycling and it's virtually guaranteed that he won on Campagnolo equipment. Fausto Coppi, Gino Bartali, Lucien Van Impe, Eddy Merckx, Bernard Hinault, Laurent Fignon, Greg Lemond, Miguel Indurain, and on, and on.

If it wasn't for Tullio we'd probably still be riding with the Flintstones and Captain Caveman. Mad Props to Tullio and his continued angelic guidance of all cycling equipment with panache and function.

Beware the Vincolo!

I had the rare opportunity to work on a fine Italonese bike the other day. It's called a Vincolo. Perhaps Ernesto has a bastard brother we don't know about. A quick test ride confirmed my suspicions. It offered a superb blend of Mack truck handling with hot-tub limpness. In other words, FABULOUS(-ly wretched)! So, keep your eyes peeled for this glorious two wheeled specimen of aluminum/carbon poo.

The Suffering

"Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately in love with suffering" - F. Dostoevsky

The first cycling video I ever saw was the 1985 Paris Roubaix. I remember it all. The mud. The grit. John Tesh's fruity voice. Most of all though, I remember the grim, fixed gazes of the riders fighting for position amongst the fury of Mother Nature. 1985 was the year that she hurled her worst at the mortal men pedaling ferrous machines across the flatlands of the French countryside. I was awestruck and inspired. Marc Madiot had a weird habit of sticking his tongue out between clenched teeth when he rode balls out. I imagine mud and shit never tasted so good.

While watching the dark figures of the peloton do battle that day, I became acutely aware of how much I was enthralled by the deep suffering etched on their faces. It made my fists ball up and heart race. I never saw a baseball player suffer like that. Or a football player. Or a basketball player. This sport was different. It was self-inflicted inhumanity. And I, the little dweeb that I was, wanted to be a part of it.

I didn't know a damn thing about bikes or racing at the time. I had no historical reference other than those retarded Taco Bell commercials with Greg Lemond. So I read books and magazines and studied photographs. The photos that drew me in were the ones where the riders had the thousand mile (yard, kilometer...whatever) stare, where they were mashing the shit out of their teeth in agony, or gasping for a few more molecules of O2. The crash photos were a guilty pleasure.


Soon after, I was battling my way into the world of bicycle racing. I suffered along with 4's. Then the 3's , and finally, with the 2's, 1's and PROs. My racing memories are filled with oxygen debt and lactic acid burn. I thrived on that throughout my days as a racing cyclist and traded stories with friends and teamates about how much we were either hurt by, or put the hurt on, each other. I finally understood the photographs I studied for so long. I felt like I was part of a warrior family of masochists.

Things have changed alot since I stopped racing. I ride slower and take more time to smell the proverbial roses. I'm more casual in my approach to riding and who I ride with. I am more liable to ignore that twitch in my legs when another rider passes (challenges) me. I suppose these are symptoms of me "maturing" as a cyclist. Whatever it is, I'm cool with it. It's hard to live in the past. And, ultimately, impossible to live up to.

I still miss the deep exhaustion that comes from racing a 100k criterium (about the only racing we had here in the good ol' midwest) and continue to get fired up watching the PROs duke it out in ways that seem to defy human limits. I'm still addicted to the suffering that baptized my virgin soul. Someday my addiction may get the best of me and I'll make good on my yearly warnings and race yet again. But, until then, I'll keep the pilot light in the ol' furnace set to "best efficiency".