That's the "Henry frucks up reprot"
But first some suspense - where will Henry fruck up? Stay tuned.
Last Monday I went for a social MTB ride with Mo, Kim, Dalene, Kaylyne, and some summer-student Jason. All was proceeding smoothly, but for my rear brake cable in need of replacement, when I rode fairly slowly across the edge of a rock. A rock 6"x8"x10" (look! a right triangular rock!) and 2" thick. Okay, maybe it was more trapezoidal. Anyway, as my rear tire rolled over the edge of the rock, it flipped up into the spokes, and magically remained in contact with the spokes until it encountered the left seatstay. Where it jammed. Bent a spoke, tweaked the wheel enough so that I had to disengage the rear brake. What's better than a sucking rear brake? No rear brake! I had not yet gotten another spoke wrench for my new MTB seat bag (aka old road bike seat bag) so did the rest of the ride with a front brake only. As a result there was one log across the trail which resulted in a nice tuck-and-roll. I ended up back on my feet, pretty happy that my reflexes didn't think the situation called for a "superman!"/broken collarbone. Took the bike home and just tightened the bent spoke, and in came back into true. (Not a fruck-up)
Then I went into my local 15% discount shop and requested a brake cable-and-housing. The guy hands me one (I thought). This is the same guy who built my MTB wheels on my new hubs - scary thought. Now I know that SIS shifter housing is _not_ recommended for brake cable use, but I thought surely he wouldn't have given me the wrong housing? It said SIS, and I put it on anyway. Still felt spongy, so I was trying to lock up the rear brake going down my gravel driveway and *sproing* the shifter-cable housing popped open in a nice sunburst effect about six inches from the lever. Wires everywhere. I went and got a _brake_ cable and housing from the guy, for free of course. (Also not a fruck-up)
Friday. Saw _Waterworld_ with Kim and a girl-friend of hers. Did I mention she has broken up with Jason? He got caught with his hand in someone else's cookie jar. Bad boy. So I am now mayor of the Friend Zone. (Not my fruck-up)
Saturday. Took pictures of Kim in the dunking booth at the company picnic - with her camera, per her request. Also played a paddle-ball game (like ping-pong without the table) with her. Left at noon to go to Boise. She would have gone along, but watched the Twilight Crit last year with Jason and it would bring back now-unpleasant memories. She wouldn't want to be poor company. Whatever. So I drove to Boise by myself. It was pushing 100 (the temperature, I mean) and there were thunderstorms and lightning-caused fires all over the place.
Got to my registration for the Pre-Twilight and the weather looked somewhat threatening. Cooler, though, by 6 pm. Warmed up a bit on the course, which was three blocks by one block - slightly over 1/2 mile. Completely closed to traffic, all the cars moved, a whole two or three lanes to play with. Gusty winds channeled by the downtown buildings. Lined up for my start with the _3_s, 4s and other 5s. Fun fun fun. Starts out pretty fast. I hung out near the back of the pack for a bit, taking the outside line on the corners. Where I naturally got gapped a lot. Sucked to be me. So I moved to the inside, and was unhappy with everyone else's cornering lines. Sucked some more. Then it started raining. Lightly at first, then up to a fair drizzle. I have bad feelings about rainy crits, and soon enough they were reinforced. Going into a turn, about 10-15 people near the front just go bowling for dollars when they hit a now-slick paint stripe. Next turn, a block later, 5 more go down. I am now sitting up and easing around the corners, getting dropped by what's left of the pack. But that's fine, I'll just keep my skin. Eventually it stops raining and even dries out. Seems like a long time, even though this is only a 20-mile crit. I almost get back on the pack but then they pull away and I ride by myself some more. I had an average of over 27 mph before I got dropped, then it started going down. Ride by myself some more, and get some concentrated cheering and my own "wave" from the crowd. I look back, and the pack is rolling up on me. Lapped riders will be pulled. But the lead motor comes by me in the last turn, leaving me with a block and a half in which to pull off. Except for the thousands of people lining the street on both sides, standing behind barriers. So I have nowhere to go but forward, and I don't want to get run over by the pack. I sprint over the line, and the announcer says that I win! I wish. After I go around again and stop, the USCF official says I should have pulled off when passed by the motor. I explain that I had nowhere to pull off, and he says that nothing really bad happened this time, but don't do that again. (Not a major fruck-up)
I go stick my bike in the car and prepare to spectate. Cara pops up out of the crowd and hands me my SideTrak PowerSpring - a month after I paid her new boyfriend for it. Saw him later, he claimed she was supposed to mail it long ago. Whatever. I check in with Paula, in whose basement I have made arrangements to sleep. She says that I should find her after the last race because she is going to go party, and she only has one key. I wander around the course a couple times before finding Jim, currently hanging out in Boise looking for a job. He was yelling at me during my race. We sit around and watch the rollerblade crit. Yes, the world's only rollerblade stage race right here in Boise. If there is something more dangerous than a bike crit, here it is. Helmet, skinsuit, gloves, skates. Oh, I'm ready. Kind of interesting to watch the women drafting, though. (No fruck-ups here - the suspense is building though)
Sit with Jim and Bob and some of their friends to watch the _real_ Twilight Crit, 1s and 2s only need apply. This starts at a little after 10 pm; pretty much full dark rather than twilight. There are arc light trailer/generators at the corners and in the middle of the straights but in between it's kind of dark on the course. The 1/2s zip around doing 1'05" laps, just under 30 mph. They go 25 miles, 50 laps. Some guy from Portland wins, and gets a large cardboard check for $1000. He says he's definitely coming back next year. I stand around the finish for 30 minutes waiting for Paula to show as everybody packs up and moves out. No Paula. Finally I decide to just go sleep in my car in front of her house. I get to the house, and the lights are on - hey, Paula's home. She says, oops, forgot about that. Oh well. I shower and flop on the basement bed. (Fruck-up on Paula's part)
Get up in the morning, read the paper, and head for the Statehouse. The citizens are racing as I arrive, to be followed by the mountain bike crit. Course is five rights and a left, again around 1/2 mile. Some sprinklers are dribbling water into the gutter at the left turn, and so several mountain bikes with slicks wipe out there on the first lap. One guy some around and wipes out again. I start looking for a broom, my race is in 90 minutes. It's cooler today, probably smoke from all the fires Saturday. That water doesn't want to evaporate. A couple brooms show up, and I help sweep the corner. Along with pounding on the sprinklers and some newspaper, the corner is dry by the time of the women/juniors race. (Getting close to the fruck-up)
My race. The 4/5s Statehouse Crit/State Championship Crit. For which under 20 guys show up to do battle. Here's a clue: the fruck-up is coming along pretty soon now. I have one teammate, Tom buddy. He went out fast and blew up in the pre-twilight last night, DNF. Looks headed for a repeat performance here today, but at least he nabs a free-lunch prime along the way. As usual, I feel I can corner better than everyone else, but they brake so I brake and get gapped comping out. Sucks to be me. Then I make a major blunder and go a lap too early - the announcer must have said, "_After this one_ it'll be one more to go." I realize my error and sit up a bit, towing the pack, when what I should have done was either try to blast through the corners out in front or go sit on someone's wheel. But I was tired from the other crit 15 hours ago, and not thinking too clearly. So I pulled the pack, and they started going around me into the last turn. I wanted not to slow down through the turn, so what do I do? I pedal. And how fast am I going? Probably faster than previously, about 25. Pow, the right pedal hits. Here would be the major fruck-up, I think to myself as the pedal strike throws me up,I come back down, fall on my left side and rub some skin on the asphalt. I take out two guys who were outside of me. One attempts to hop the curb and almost makes it - he half-endos instead. The other gets all the way to the sidewalk, where he lands on his back. After some anxious fluttering by the onlookers, he gets up.
Meanwhile, Cara picks this exact moment to show up and spectate. How am I doing? Oh, just fine. I'm a fucking idiot, but doing just fine. I assess damage: me; two quarter-size serious pavement burns on elbow and ankle, one larger but shallow strawberry on hip, other minor abrasions on forearm, hip, shin, ribs, right little finger. Possessions: jersey; pretty much trashed, pavement-colored on one side, holes/worn very thin along left side; shorts; hole on hip, save them for roller use; shoes; dime-size hole in outer layer over left little toe; gloves; several holes - these are now mountain bike gloves. I hose myself off with my water bottles, and take a look a Eddy. It's not so bad: both STI levers moved in and scratched on the outside, bar tape/hood scraped a little on the left, stem crooked (fix that immediately along with STI lever positions). Both wheels tweaked, right pedal shaved a few grams, left pedal hit hard enough to bend the outer piece into the release lever, binding it (discovered that on the Wednesday ride last night), rear qr scraped, but _no_ paint or saddle damage. Protected it with my body, I did. (This was the fruck-up, in case you really were not paying attention)
I hobble off and put up my bike, go to the store and get some band-aids. I come back long enough to watch the same guy from Portland win the 1/2s race, then take off for home.
Monday evening I true wheels. The back first, it's pretty easy. The front has a wobble which I bash on the lawn for a bit, mostly disappears and quite true but still slightly grabby when braking. Then I tackle my MTB derailleur, removing the stock squishy-spring and eventually installing my PowerSpring. I ride that the next day, and upshifts are _much_ better. But I notice that I need new middle and outer chainrings. Oh well.
Didn't feel too good on the Wednesday ride last night, but then again I didn't get dropped either. Rode with Terry in the front the whole way up to Blacktail, and didn't even die coming up the <mile 11% section. I get to ride again tonight since oozing sores are not allowed in the pool. Woo hoo, more training. Terry says he rides almost every day. Wonder why I can pretty much keep up and hang with most 4s though I typically ride only once a week apart from racing weekends? I must just be some kind of stud.