R.F.K. Stadium (1989)
Kool-Aid Acid Test
"I'm freakin' out...man!"
Christian Hosoi is Mongo's guy when it comes to skateboarding legends. He built on the foundation of Adams, Alva, and Peralta...and took it to the air.
His life story has been well chronicled, including drug use and prison time, but he has emerged as a man with a strong faith and a sturdy character.
With veterans like Miller and Caballero and Mountain still ripping in pool contests, there's no reason that Hosoi shouldn't be right there as well.
Mongo has always been quite vocal in his disregard for the man. Today, the man came in the form of a fat, redneck, Cobb County Sheriff.
I was riding down a very steep road with multiple switchbacks, going a little faster than the posted 35mph speed limit, when I get the quick double honk(which scared the s**t out of me) from this douchebag in a cruiser.
He flys past me on the outside and gives me a look like I'm the one doing something wrong. Nevermind the fact that he passed me in a no passing area, and was going faster than the speed limit, and we were going downhill, I saw him two minutes later at a fast food drive-thru. What an asshole!
As much as I enjoy cycling as a purist, if I'm "keepin' it real", and I am, I also relish the fact that cycling allows me to eat like a billygoat.
Mongo likes to eat crap! Ice cream, burritos, candy bars...usually these things aren't a problem when I'm logging 150+ miles per week and burning thousands of calories. It's when the miles go down and the crap consumption stays the same that the flabalanche begins.
Winter is overrated...Let's move it along!
Mongo took the new Allez, or as I like to call her, White Lightnin', out for her sea trials today. Thanks to my buddy Tom(I wish my last name was Boonen) and a new EC 70 carbon fork, she's 270 grams lighter and better than ever.
Though I was only planning a 40 mile shakedown ride, ol' Lightnin' was chompin' at the bit for her first smackdown. I was holding her back at a brisk 20mph, when a twelve point buck eased past me on the left. It was a Trek Madone... with the added bonus of the rider in a full Mapei kit.
The Madone is the Land Rover of poseur bikes. The only reason most of the chuckleheads ride them is because of Lance, or because they want to keep up with their country club neighbors. I know they're good bikes, but come on! There are at least twenty other bikes I'd spend six large on before I got a Trek. To Mongo, the Madone represents smugness...and I hate smugness.
Lightnin' did her job and the Mapei/Madone/Smug Cycling Team was disposed of in short order and Mongo turned for home in a leisurely manner...Then it happened.
Like I said, I was in cool down mode, so when two guys rockin' Titanium(unfortunately not Litespeeds...Mongo's favorite prey) zipped past, W.L. and I had to ramp it back up to battle stations.
These guys were worthy opponents, but after several miles I had gapped them by a few hundred yards and was coming to the end of the ride. With about half a mile to go, traffic and lights had allowed Ti 1 and Ti 2 to catch up to me and I was quite prepared to cruise the rest of the way in with them.
As the words "nice ride" are coming out of my mouth, the dude on the Merlin goes into a full sprint. He couldn't keep up with me over a period of miles with the help of a partner, but now with the help of traffic and my good will he's trying to go Petacchi on me.
Of course, ol' Lightnin' would have none of that, and she out sprinted Mr. Douchey McDouche to the line. As we passed him, I looked at him and asked..."Are you f***ing serious?" There was no reply.
Mongo was unable to make his usual Monday group ride today because of obligations to "the man", but I was able to get home in time to bomb a few hills in the neighborhood.
Of course I'm waiting for the phone calls telling me that the _______ Professional Cycling Team just happened to show up at the group ride today... And it was awesome! It's like when your buddies tell you that five minutes after you left the bar the Swedish Bikini Team showed up and they were really horny. I digress...
Anyway...there's nothing better than the smooth rumble of soft rubber beneath you. It's the best therapy I know.
Almost old enough to get in half price at the movies, Ned Overend is still one of the greatest cyclists on the planet. He is Mongo's Sensei for all things geriatric on a bike.
When I'm feeling sluggish and lazy on a ride, I think WWND, and then I stop feeling sorry for myself and pull up my panties.
Today Mongo dug deep and chased down a semi-poseur on a purple Merckx. The dude on the Eddy looked back one too many times and I realized he was scared and getting tired. With blood in the water...It was on!
It took about five miles, but thanks to Ned, another carbon fiber fantasy has been crushed by an old guy on aluminum.