Bike polo goodness all night long.

I hit the road for 6 days last week to do a little mountain biking, meet up with some old friends, and of course…celebrate the 4th of July. The start of the trip found me in Flagstaff AZ on the 4th for what could possibly be the best underground bike race ever held. Cruiser Nation. Nate did a great writeup over at handlebarsandwich where he explains the rules and Gnome over at drunkcyclist posted some pics and says that I somehow “bring pain”. I like to think that i am a pretty nice guy, despite what he says.

My weapon of choice was this little number:

and it was only fitting that our friend KB made it to the top of the pile.

 I would like to thank Canadian Club , and all the riders of Flagstaff that made this a damn good day on the bike.

Ahhh…summer in upstate new york. it’s comparable to taking a shower with all your clothes on, then, when you get out, don’t dry off and go directly to launch your bike off a ramp into the Erie canal, pretending your Zack Phillips (of KINK bikes fam) circa 1994. He was known as ‘Hairy Zack’ then and I remember Ryan Mckenna almost convinced Zack to call his new bike company ‘Zackles’ instead of ‘KINK’ that summer; because his first ‘gadget’ were 25 TPI axles. close. well, 15 years later and kink is doing strong, and Zack is less hairy compared to then, (see KINK’s 1st commercial in Road Fools 1), and we don’t scum jump anymore. But we have started hanging out at the same site, this time to build cement shaped jumping ramps on the side of  shady ass ditches where kids apparently ‘love Pussy‘ and like to draw giant dicks on the ground. sweet. the ditch is sweet and mosquito filled and definitely not Bob Shack proof . the spot has potential to be amazingly gnar. at the same time, i don’t want no swine flu. so we have that going for us.

Also, we have been celebrating heartily as of late. Why? A.) because the Penguins won the Stanley Cup and I have been a fan for way too long . but we had a blast a couple of Saturdays ago and i even got kicked out of my favorite drinking hole for arguing with a Detroit fan wearing a margaritaville t shirt who told me to go fuck my Stanley Cup. it happens. we move on. we kept having fun with our trophy, only some could handle it better than others..

there is a house by my work where you can tell there are some communication tensions between the father and son who live there. the father cannot simply tell the son what to do, instead he leaves a giant ‘post it’ note on the front side of the house, for all of us John Street drivers to see. At least they are communicating… with each other.