Vacationland !

Jen and I are bound for the coast of Maine to meet up with family and friends. With jobs/careers that we both love, we pour all our energy into each day so when when it comes time to look up and take a breath, that it some cool sweet air and a fantastic view.....ah,downtime! I shipped my mountain bike prior to our arrival as the surrounding trails where we used to reside are absurdly difficult to ride and an absolute hoot when the A-game is on board. A dark green loamy tunnel just filled with rocks crisscrossed with roots mud pits, oh and steep, there are no patches of flat terrain. It's the polar opposite of Colorado and that's what needed to flip the mental reset button.

The Peanut Gallery- Take 2

This past Wednesdays practice session brings out another great interaction. A few moms taking their toddlers for a stroll around the park stop us at the top of the long run-up and ask " excuse us, but are you guys professional cyclists ?"

the reply in my head went something like "fraid not, we're the hacks who when swinging the bike up onto the shoulder let the saddle hit themselves in the head and knock our helmets into our eyes"

still flattering and funny though !

Couple O' Links

Riding a Felt Cross Bike ? Read This !!!

Keller's 15 minutes of Fame! Read

The Fat Tire Revolution - Redux

Here is my prize piece of nostalgia from the early days. The Specialized Stumpjumper Team , a limited edition bike and only available in an outlandish version of Barbie pink. I acquired this bike by literally flagging the owner down during his ride in the Santa Cruz mountains some 10 years ago
It needs a new saddle, a Deore XT thumb shifter and some proper Ground Control tires, but otherwise, it's all there and in amazing shape. Check out the Tommaselli moto brake levers, Biopace chainrings, and a Shimano Shark Fin. Most everything else is Specialized house brand parts, the Crankset, hubs, rims, headset. I need to go take this thing for a ride

Peanut Gallery

Wednesday evening, four of us are humming along through cross practice on a very warm night. Kids soccer camp coincides at the same time and location so I think we earn a few quizzical stares. We had placed a barrier on the edge of the soccer field about 10 paces prior to a very steep dirt path run-up. As four of us in succession move over the barrier and up the hill in what I would call a very fluid manner; a couple of kids yell at us from the top of the top of the run-up as we're all re-mounting " that was totally rad, dudes!!!"

The Fat Tire Revolution - The Final Installment ?

The first Ross Stage race held in Wendell State Park in Mass in 84 had come had a pivotal time as I was headed off to my first year of college in a matter of weeks and this race felt very much like it has cemented my identity...as an off-road rider. Although I never would realize it at that time, the bike and the activity would not only define me and my future, but helped guide me through being successful at school and beyond. The sport and more importantly the community surrounding it was, and is, a haven. Once I had entered college up in Keene, New Hampshire, I immediately sought out other like-minded riders. One of them being a year ahead of me and riding those most coveted of bikes, a beautiful black Fat Chance. Martin Dombroski was also from southern Connecticut, he was the previous owner of a shiny,chrome finished Ross but then upgraded to this Fat Chance that he had purchased from a close friend who owned a shop in CT. (Martin would go on later in life to own this shop) At that time I still owned the Univega but had upgraded to a Gary Fisher Montare. one of the first Fisher bikes that were offered at a very reasonable price as it was sourced from Asia. While I enjoyed the red Fisher, I still pined for some Somerville steel.

On a whim one weekend, I loaded up as much food and water as I could carry and headed East on the bike towards Peterborough, some 20 miles away. My goal was to visit the EMS store there but I was sidetracked into a tiny, hole in the wall shop where I saw it. A blazing red Fat Chance with black decals for sale. It was my size but had some goofy riser bars installed that I didn't care for but whatever. I managed to work a deal where I traded in a heinous Benotto road bike and the Gary Fisher plus a measly amount of cash for the Fat Chance. The sport had completely engulfed me, it was a huge amount of pride to be riding something made with caring hands, that was specifically designed for classic New England woods riding.

Martin and I spent a great deal of time on the weekends exploring the woods all over Keene, our posse size was growing slowly and every new addition came back with a massive ear to ear grin filled with black flies and mud. The Fat Chance was absolutely dreamy, the old Fisher felt like an old sled in comparison. The wheelbase was nice and short, but with a slack head angle and short chainstays, the bike just floated over the nastiest terrain. An added bonus was while Martin and I were home during the summers in Connecticut, we would still get together and find new places to ride. I also continued to race, the Norba Eastern Nationals were to held in our state so by all means we would be in attendance. During that summer I was working with my brother-in-law doing home construction work. I would fill a day working and then jump on bike until dark in order to prep for this race. Much like the initial Ross race, the Eastern Nationals brought in some serious talent. Tomac, was there, riding for Mongoose bikes at the time. Ned Overend made his appearance back when he was sponsored by Schwinn. I was completely geeked out over the fact that Ned and I shared a camo-graphic Bell V1-Pro helmet. Martin and I raced the Novice class and I managed to pull off a win that day with Martin coming in second, perhaps there was some sandbagging involved but that race wasn't a cakewalk.

It finally dawned on me about halfway through school that their just might be some way to pull off making a career out of this mountain bike thing. There are others out there doing just that, so what could stop me from following in their steps. My focus during school was technically oriented, computer-aided design and manufacturing. I was super intrigued by developments down in Somerville, Mass. that had some ex-Fat City employees dabbling in Titanium with a new company called Merlin Metalworks. I had reached out to them for a project at school where I wanted to do a study of Titaniums properties, someone at Merlin was kind enough to send me a chainstay to run some tests on. I received an A on that paper and I think my prof. was a bit dumbstruck at the time as to why such an exotic and costly material was to be used on a childs toy...a bicycle of all things!! One of my classes was about tool design so of course my focus was on a better way to hold a tube or a frame during the manufacturing process. During my senior year, I drove down to Somerville and interviewed with Chris Chance very much hoping/planning for a foot in the door at Fat City doing something...anything. Turns out that doing something...anything wasn't going to pay that well and Boston is not a cheap place to live. While I was there, I walked across the parking from Fat City into Merlin. This was a study in extreme contrasts. Fat City was dirty, very punk rock, loud, dangerous even. Merlin on the other hand was obviously run by pointy heads who may have come from MIT nearby and just happened to like bikes. Super clean shop, beautifully crafted bikes on display...nerd central. By graduation time I was very much in love with a girl from Maine ( yes, the first time I spotted her on campus was while she was riding a Peugeot mountain bike) I followed her to Maine and fell into a position managing a bike shop in coastal Camden. Being a responsible for what was on the sales floor, of course Fat Chance and Merlin were both represented nicely.My obsessive/compulsive tendencies with all things two-wheels continued unabated. I finally bid the old Fat Chance a fond farewell and moved onto a Wicked Fat Chance. The yearly Norba National at Mount Snow VT had become an institution, a meca for riders from all over the Northeast. The XC loop was legendary for how ridiculously difficult is was ( and still is ) if it rained, the very talented smiled, the rest hung their heads. In 92, I was riding through Camden, when I spotted the Rockshox tech van and trailer, fresh from working the Mt Snow event. I'll admit I was giddy as a little school girl, I quick wrote a note to the driver asking/pleading with them to come down to the shop and give us a clinic on suspension forks, something none of us knew anything about except that Rockshox was on to something. Terry Howe was driving the van and sure enough, he stopped in and we had a nice couple of hours chatting. I threw out the possibility that if he ever needed any help working an event in New England then please give me a ring. As luck and a lot of persistence would have it. Terry contacted my the following summer and I spent the next 3 weekends, one at Mt Snow and an additional 2 up in Quebec, drowning in shock fluid and absolutely loving it. Paul Turner, founder of Rockshox attended those events and I was able to make a half-assed attempt letting him know that if Rockshox was hiring,then I'm your man. Whatever work ethic was on display at these events was recognized with a position as an R&D tech at Rockshox's facility in Boulder, CO. Pure heaven for bike nerds like myself.

I mention in the header that this is the final installment. I've been wanting/almost needing to put down ALL these words for a long time. I've always wanted some mean of capturing an amazing course in my life and I know may of you have shared this same path. I wrote in the first installment on why the mountain bike is the best invention of my lifetime. That a bit of a bold statement but I mean it. This bike was responsible for getting millions of people to think of bicycles in a whole new way,in an entirely new light. From the mountain bike spawned the commuter, the hybrid, an evolved townie bike, comfortable road bikes. Think about it. This was the nineties and who do you know that didn't get a mountain bike or a version thereof. Sure for some folks it didn't stick but for the most part we are still feeling the positive effects of this revolution that took place decades ago. Mountain biking is responsible for providing my wife and I a very modest living, the ability to travel the world, keeping us healthy and happy, meeting the most amazing people I've ever had the pleasure to ride with. Mountain biking is directly responsible for my obsession with cyclocross. Cross is blending my old-school road bike roots with the attitude of mountain biking, cross is not for everyone, it's ridiculously,stupid hard but pays off massive dividends, much like it's fat tired cousin.Thanks a ton for reading all this, hope you enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed reminiscing- Shotty

Day One

The first evening practice session is in the books, the wife's eyes rolling as I left the house with the new skinsuit on and porta-barriers stashed in my messenger bag. It felt SUPER good to be tooling around Monument Valley Park again. ( this would be a superb race venue ). I'm trying very hard to continue to work on form. After many, many years of this, you'd think mounts and dismounts would be hardwired into the board...not so much, in fact I manged to do a nice high speed wad-up on some slippery grass in front of about a dozen 10-12 year old soccer camp kids all of whom all had to stop their drills to see if I was going to get up off the ground. Besides that incident, I felt good. really thinking about placing the hand on the top tube earlier for barrier dismounts and stop doing the minimum 5 steps before remounting, these are bad habits that are hard to break....time is on my side though and there is always room for improvement.

and so it begins

Welcome to August...the alarm strikes marking weeks to go before our season starts. I've got to say I've been enjoying this clammy summer thus far, it's been wreaking havoc on our trails, but the temps are super comfy. Spending lot's of time on the fat tires, managed to get in some gravity days at Keystone and Sol Vista, spent a few hours climbing in Red Rocks and a bit of throttle twisting, Still on the to-do list is Monarch Crest and Kenosha to Breck epics before the leaves turn. Unfortunately, I've already written off a few early races, namely the Pikes Peak Supercross right in our backyard which I have mixed feelings about, one on hand I think it's one of the lamest venue's around but convenience wise, it can't be beat. I'll be enjoying a tropical island working vacation on the lovely isle of Taiwan

Notice to local crossers: Wednesday night practice sessions start on the 5th at the soccer field on the North end of Monument Valley park, see you there at 6pm

Le Tour

Alright, I really haven't been paying a whole lot of attention to that 3 week spectacle of drama in France ( and I don't mean drama in a good way ). but I did catch the last few stages in the Alps....and....watching this stuff is getting me FIRED UP for cross season!!!! I mean I can feel the cold air filling the nostrils, slippery wet leaves and or clumps of mud/snow, dead feet and hands and that searing pain in the lungs....so close

The Fat Tire Revolution Part 3- Racing

It was at the halfway point through the Cross Country race course at the Sea Otter Classic about 10 years ago when I strayed off course. I was sitting in a group of 4, three of whom were my co-workers. We were participating in the Industry Cup portion of the race where cycling companies gather a few teams composed of 4 men, 1 women and we ride for bragging rights within the industry. I was part of our "B" team, definitely not a contender but if I could help out with gathering some points while having fun, so be it. Our group had managed to wander off into a sandy drainage before realizing that there were very few tracks in front of us and no other riders behind us. One other unfortunate employee from an unnamed company followed our folly. Within a few minutes we assessed the situation, regained our bearings and joined in to the race without any drama. Twenty of so minutes later we cruised through the finish line, content and tired, I immediately headed back to our tech truck parked in the infield looking to relax and listen to some stories from the "A" team. When I had plunked myself into a comfy camp chair, our lone straggler who had followed us into the weeds came up me, bright red in the face spewing " As a sponsor of this event I would expect you to know where the course leads !!! Thanks for getting me lost !" That was the last mountain bike race I participated in, this was not the sport I witnessed grow up. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter about mountain bike racing. To me this was one of the most amusing circumstances I've ever had while racing but the sport had morphed into something that I didn't quite recognize any longer.



I blame my interest in racing on the Fat Tire Flyer, a West coast based publication dedicated to the fat tire phenomenon. The magazine was filled with a hefty calender of upcoming races and results postings. I had fooled myself into believing that I had built up the requisite skills to start thinking seriously about entering one of these things. Problem was, there was nothing to enter. As with most trends, the New England scene was barely in bloom. Inevitably, a race did pop up on our calender, the Sandhopper up on Cape Cod ,it was a time trial format on a mix of pine needles and super fine sand. My memory of this race is hazy, I finished 3rd and came home with a prize...a pair of Shimano DX flat pedals. What made an impression at this race were some pretty nifty bikes, all painted primary colors ( same all on the same frame ), the logo on the downtube read " Fat Chance" and rumor had it that Chris Chance was building the finest mountain bikes available for tackling the wet slimy root and rock infested New England trails. Next up was another time trial called Tour De Bluff in Groton, CT. I remember lots of thorny prickers, slimy muddy corners and a giant tree in the middle of the course that required portaging. I was on the podium again and took home some Suntour components.
Luckily, that same summer of 1984, the circus arrived in Wendell State Park in Western Mass, billed as the Ross Stage race. Ross bicycle company had thrown a bunch of money into sponsoring a formidable team as had Specialized and Gary Fisher. All the talent from the West would be attending. Stan and I quickly booked a dorm room at UMass in Amherst and readied ourselves for the weekend. I was stunned when I arrived, V-dub campers, tents pitched, there was a game on Ultimate Frisbee going on, campfires and bikes everywhere. Next sensation was becoming star struck, I spotted Jacquie Phelan with her goofy dropped bar, aluminum frame that resembled no other bike in existence, Joe Murray on a sweet red, black and yellow Gary Fisher, Gavin Chilcot, Dave McLaughlin sporting their bright pink Specialized Stumpumper Race bikes, Aaron Cox riding a fillet brazed Ross, the Cook brothers from Crested Butte, Chris Chance in his crew had organized a photo shoot for everyone there riding his bikes. There was not one ounce of the road scene in this group, everyone had arrived to enjoy themselves on 2 wheels in the dirt. Lot's of smiles and hairy legs. At the end of the weekend someone would be awarded the win but that was a secondary prioritization. There were 4 events held and since it was a stage race, all events were meant to be participated in. There was the hillclimb, the downhill, ( both time trial format ) observed trials and the cross country race ended the weekend. I raced the cross country wearing striped calf-high athletic socks, cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt with a cotton hoodie over it. I can't quite remember but I think I fit right in. I had also taken this sport with bait, hook, line and sinker, it was providing way too much fun to ignore.

In part 4 of my infinite part series, the evolution of bikes and off-road racing
Thanks for reading

Shotty

The Fat Tire Revolution - Part 2

pour a cup of coffee and enjoy: My shiny new Univega Alpina Pro with it's 2.125 inch width tires, bear trap pedals that would shred your shins to pieces with one poorly executed bunny-hop. Big foamy grips, WIDE bars. A crazy seat post that would allow the saddle to slide fore and aft with it's own QR. I loved it but actually didn't know quite what to do with it...trail ride, yes, because that's what I've seen in photo's but what trails ? What is this thing actually capable of ? The possibilities were endless and there were no rules, no white socks and black shorts, this sport was not governed by some bureaucracy somewhere. Cut off jeans and T-shirts seemed perfectly appropriate, a pair of Nike Lava Dome hiking shoes to protect the feet. The only items left over from road riding was a set of crochet half finger gloves and my Brancale helmet which would have been worthless in a bad crash. ( could explain a lot of things ) Growing up in "rural" Connecticut the easy choice were dirt road loops around the reservoirs and we were lucky enough to have access out our backyard onto power company land. There were a multitude of trails underneath the powerlines crisscrossing all over town. There were no resources to check where the good riding trails were, every single trail was legal, no precedent had been set and boundaries needed to be pushed and then pushed a little more.

The confidence level grew exponentially, turns out the bike was far more capable than my skills. I found that I could ride down ridiculously steep slopes laden with deadfall and mud, climb up root covered slimy rocks. The bike was surefooted and a massive amount of fun, I was completely in love with floating along through a dense green tunnel, the sound of big fat knobbies rolling across dirt and the idea that we may have been the first ones down a trail on bicycles. Hikers ( at first )were far more astonished and intrigued when approached on a bike. Most couldn't fathom the possibility that a bike could navigate through some of this terrain. When you discover something this fun, it absolutely must be shared so I managed to convince my adventuresome, ski fanatic, wild Polish friend that he needed a ride. He picked up a Diamondback and became hooked immediately.

We would spend hours pouring over maps and finding out what trails might be worth exploring.
Branford Supply Ponds was our first real destination location, a huge plot of land filled with serpentine trails that seemed tailor made for bikes, fast and flowing with an occasional techy section to navigate through. Stan spent just about every winter weekend up in Vermont skiing with his family and developed a fierce passion for the place. He made the suggestion that we take the bikes to the North Country, the home of real mountains in the Northeast. We piled our bikes into the back of his Chevy Chevette and got on I-91 headed North. We landed at Killington Ski area 3 hours later, right smack dab in the middle of Vermont, got out our 15mm spanners and bolted the wheels back into the frame. By trial and error we found and connected service roads that lead to the top of the mountain. The descents were amazing, we'd pick some random ski trail that would connect back up with a service road but the down was so worth the long toil upwards. We were giggling like little schoolgirls by the time we reached bottom again, not to mention hands were cramped and numb from squeezing sub-par canti's for an hour or so. This became a bit of a habit for us one summer, every available weekend we'd make the trek North to check out and check off the biggies, Mt Snow, Stowe, Stratton, Mount Greylock in Mass. We even got in the renowned Mt Washington before bikes were outlawed on the autoroad with exception of the annual hillclimb affair. Coming down the road was an experience I hope I never forget.

Our most outlandish scheme was to ride the length of the Quinipiac Trail, a North-South route through Connecticut that started at Long Island Sound and finished at the Massachusetts border. We had it all plotted out and would ride the trail in pieces. To scope out one of the most Northerly sections we drove two cars up and left one high and backtracked to the trailhead. At the time I had a raging case of poison ivy and was covered head to toe in Calamine lotion. We fueled up at a Friendlys restaurant and left the trailhead at 2pm expecting about a 2-3 hour jaunt. We had no compass and no map, some water and perhaps a banana, I doubt either of us had a watch on. The trail was very decent, well used but a bit slow going with lot's of super steep hike-a-bike sections. The trail was easy to follow as trees were marked with a blue blaze every few hundred yards. By dusk we were falling way behind schedule and suddenly found ourselves on top of a ridgeline that had experienced a massive wind event. Tree's were laying every which way so not only were we clambering over deadfall but the trail markers were gone and it was losing daylight quickly. By dark we were thoroughly lost the trail was obliterated and couldn't be found. After "discussing" options we figured the best route out was to get off the ridge, out of the woods and find a road. Coming off the ridge was tricky, we emptied out into a soggy cornfield and tracked our way out to a dirt road which thankfully met pavement quickly. After a few more hours of getting our bearings we stumbled into our car. It was 9PM, a full seven hours later. All I could recall was exhaustion, bliss, and a full bag of chocolate chip cookies in the car that was gone in an instant.

Thanks for reading, in Part 3 the racing bug bites again

Overhaul

The ride was pretty much destroyed after Paris-Roubaix day so full teardown was in order. For the most part anything that moved, rotated, shifted, etc was replaced as well as some new tape and hoods. We are still a full season away but the bike is ready.

The Fat Tire Revolution ( Part 1 )

Recently I visited the website of First Flight Bicycles in North Carolina, They have what I believe to be the most comprehensive in-depth information chronicling the history of the mountain bike. Scrolling through pictures had me thinking back to how I was hooked into the fray. I'm sure there are hundreds of thousands of stories like this one, but here's mine for your reading amusement:

Somehow, I missed the boat on being raised on BMX bikes, missed out on the jumping, skidding, berms, wheelies, etc. My path was a decidedly geekier route, I was obsessed with road riding. Could have something to do with the movie Breaking Away, however by the time that film was released I was well into my obsession with all things skinny and shiny. The film just added a massive fuel dump on the fire. It wasn't just me, my group of friends growing up in Jr High School were all on board with this program. Every Saturday morning we'd meet up at Guy and Susans D'Aniello's shop, Amity Bicycles in Woodbridge CT. for a weekly time trial series. We would throw everything we had at a rolling 10-something mile course, come through the line red-faced,sputtering and on the verge of tossing breakfast. Guy and Susan started this shop in their home, it was a ridiculously small amount of floor space but they catered to the serious road enthusiast, it was a fertile environment for young roadie wannabees. For such a small shop it was well stocked with encouragement, advice, enthusiasm, and of course the requisite amount of gear to lust over. The bike I chose to launch my career was a maroon Zebrakenko, a now defunct Japanese import with a decent level of mostly Suntour components. Slowly but surely each part would be replaced with Suntour Superbe Pro...because it was well ?...Pro! It was far less expensive than anything that Campy had to offer, I don't recall looking at any Shimano parts but the Superbe Pro group was meticulously finished, very lightweight and functioned beautifully. I swapped out the saddle for the Italian made Concor, started to become fashion conscience and wrapped the bars with multiple colored layers of Benotto cello tape, Alfredo Binda leather toe clip straps wound through Christophe stainless clips, every single detail was obsessed over. While I never entered a road race I stuck rigidly to the time trial regimen and also partook in a century which at that time was a pretty big deal for a 15 year old kid. During the years leading into the beginning of high school (early eighties) our posse size was dwindling, cars and girls were entering the periphery, distractions for some...not for me. I had lost the beloved Zebrakenko in a theft and acquired a used Colnago Mexico. I was riding an absurd amount but very much losing interest in racing, I had stripped the Colnago of decals and started becoming interested in more exploratory/adventure type riding. The seed planted was a bike tour that my cousin and I struck out on a trip to Cape Cod and the Islands a few years earlier, staying at Youth Hostels and packing all our belongings in panniers made by an upstart company in Connecticut called Cannondale. Then the lightening bolt hit, the bike magazines I was reading were publishing ads for bikes that looked like nothing I had ever seen before. They were equipped for what I had wanted to ride. Big fat knobby tires, "Bullmoose bars", cantilever brakes, big wide platform pedals without clips and straps! "very interesting".. In 83 I took a ride on the Colnago down to a ski shop to take a look a some sweet pair of Lange boots that I couldn't afford. When I exited the store the Colnago was gone. Despite my parents best efforts encouraging me to ride with a lock on board, it was out of the question, " too heavy...doesn't fit in the jersey pocket" etc. Once the funds were available from the loss of the bike, I was driven direct to Branford Bikes and purchased a Univega Alpina Pro mountain bike.

Thanks for reading part one of the infinate part series on why the mountain bike is the best invention of our lifetime- Shotty

More To Come

Although my last final exam was taken some 20 odd years ago, there's something hardwired in me to start slacking immediately around graduation time....alas this blog has been left in the corner underneath a pile of dirty laundry and been forgotten. Fear not..I will start posting again shortly, I've been short on time and creativity lately but have been enjoying some longish days in the saddle which gives me time to think about writing...or riding..stay tuned for some fat tire nostalgia.

Thanks
shotty

Get out there

the horror ! I missed Bike to Work week whilst touring around Taiwan in one of those metal, 4 wheeled toxic spewing devises. Truth be told, I don't claim to be one of the holier than thou commuters that completely shuns automated transportation, riding my four stroke dirt bike (after driving it to the trailhead ) manages to install a perma-grin that lasts for days....plus I love the sound it makes when the throttle's opened ! Perhaps I can justify my motorized recreational habits by riding my bicycle some 1,500 plus miles to work every year. It's by far the most satisfying method of transport on a daily basis.

Bike riding, but more specifically, commuting is moving meditation, commuting by car is a supreme test of patience, having to be a slave to traffic lights, being hyper aware to avoid the mistakes of others..etc etc. It's the ultimate juxtaposition by being in control of your vehicle and it's space but having extremely limited control over your ways and means of movement. Time on the bike is time taking in your surroundings and turning over the pedals. Time in the car is super focused and at the same time, distractions galore abound. One of my favorite pastimes is sitting on my bike, perhaps on the bike path waiting to cross a street and just observing drivers "driving". Most are talking on the phone, some are checking themselves out in the rearview, digging for something on the passenger side etc. Doing anything to avoid the drudgery that is commuting by car.

I've preached bicycle commuting here before, but I'll say it again, if you can make it happen and it works in your lifestyle/schedule, etc....please try to get out there!

It you're not sure where to start, start here