Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Suburban Rhythm.
The theme for the race on Saturday was “Bogan’s Day Out,” and I’d been dressed accordingly for about an hour before Nik Cee rolled up to my house. We made some last minute preparations and headed down to Pony Bikes, flannies flapping in the breeze and thongs caught in our toestraps. Drivers seemed more wary of us than usual.
When we arrived there were some folks there already. Eventually, with the skies turning greyer by the minute, the number of riders grew to 46, including a considerable number of out of towners, bogans in full costume, noobs riding their first alleycat, and a representative from the VIS on his BT (who later decided not to ride, possibly because I told him I’d tell his coach).
After the chaos of registration riders were told to park their bikes at the Capel Street end of the alley, then taken up the other end for their briefing. A number of riders had parked their bikes assuming a quick dash out Capel Street into the city, and were sorely disappointed when informed that they would have to leave via the other exit. Sucks to be them!
The first checkpoint, where riders received their manifests, was Gate 4 at the MCG, which was once the closest entrance to the infamous Bay 13. This was the first of many bogan landmarks riders were asked to visit. Once they had their manifests riders were asked to visit, in no particular order, the following locations:
The Tote Hotel, where they were told to collect a Beer Coaster for a Bogan Beer and deliver it to the finish at Pony Bikes.
Carlton United Breweries, where they were asked to fill out a Centrelink form. McKenny at this checkpoint lived out his dole officer revenge fantasies and was very particular with his forms.
The Astor Cinema, which isn’t really a bogan landmark, but most riders went straight here from the CUB, and as such were forced to do a “Chap Lap” of Chapel Street, which, on a Saturday night, is as important to bogans as breathing. And at the Astor they had to yell out a bogan insult. Poor Blakey at this Checkpoint copped it pretty hard, but made up for it by demanding the manager of the Astor hand over his manifest before going inside.
Pit Lane at the Albert Park, where they were asked to do a skid. Apparently the Corporate Games were also taking place at this checkpoint, which made the traffic interesting.
Spearmint Rhino Men’s Club in King Street, where they were asked to sing a bogan song (Khe Sahn was a popular choice here – and most people, despite hipster moustaches, colourmatched fixies and homemade tattoos, still knew the words).
The Church opposite Swanston Maccas, where they were given temporary Southern Cross tattoos. Nik and I were a bit concerned about this checkpoint due to the constant presence of real bogans, but other than a hug from a crazy bearded lady, Casey and Magda at this checkpoint did just fine.
The first riders started trickling in about an hour and twenty minutes after being sent on their way. Cranky Sundays mainstay Chaz (aka Chamazing, Chaztastic, Viva Chaz Vegas) came home first and was slightly bewildered to discover this was the case. His buddy Jason followed his wheel all the way into second place, his blonde mullet resplendent in the southerly breeze. Brisbane rider Gypsy had been advised to chase Jay and Coopz around town, in order to not get lost, and managed to do this and more, claiming first out-of-towner and third overall (relegating Jay and Coopz to a bunch finish!). Teagan came in about sixteenth overall and claimed first girl, followed by Sara from Sydney and the ever-irrepressible Megz, who also claimed best stack. She didn’t stack at all, but a bout of food poisoning the week previous had left her stomach slightly unsettled, and she was given this prize for vomiting on a car. First noob went to Scott, who swore he’d be back for more, and DFL went to Caff, who was very excited about her almost new, only slightly soiled Australian Cycling Team cap.
Best outfit was hotly contested, with a number of mullets, cut off denim jackets, Frenzal Rhomb T-shirts, footy jumpers and Australian Flags decorating the peleton. Eventually, however, the prize went to Max, who rocked up to the start with his own southern cross tattoo, a blacked out tooth, a well-worn wifebeater and the matching Collingwood beanie and scarf set, but by the end of the race had somehow also accumulated a Taco Bill Sombrero, a cask of goon and some poor woman’s actual dole form. I guess she won’t be getting her payment this week.
All prize winners were told to pick one item from a large selection of swag, with podium finishers also rewarded with some cold hard cash. The exceptions to this rule were 1st overall, who was given a B43 wheelset from Velocity, and DFL, who received the aforementioned cap from the bottom of Nik’s cupboard. When the prizes went down to about 10th overall Nik and I started throwing stuff out into the crowd. Special thanks here should go to Coffee Supreme, who wrapped up their prizes in Hessian bags so they looked like Coffee. Nik threw them into the receptive audience, where they were later revealed to be some sweet swag from Charge, including a saddle and some forks. Tricky!
Special thanks should also go to the rain for holding out until we’d finished; Sasha from Pony Bikes for hosting and giving so much to her adopted city in such a short time – Sydney’s loss has been our gain; Ilana from the Bike Film Festival for arranging a bunch of the prizes, organizing a bunch of the shenanigans that took place at Pony that day, co-ordinating the volunteers and generally running around being efficient; Velocity for the wheelset; Gypsy from Brisbane for bringing down swag from Brisbane Outdoor Gear and Gear Brisbane, which are two different shops, duh; Spray Ya Bike for an appropriate Best Outfit prize; Coffee Benny Tatts from Genovese Coffee for being extremely generous with the caffeine; Jona Gunn at Coffee Supreme for being tricky; Natasha at Crumpler for always, always supporting the scene; Knog for doing the same, even if Mike told Facebook he was going to ride and then didn’t; Jamie from Skin Grows Back for making the best courier gear around and always being willing to share it with muppets putting on alleycats; The Freedom Machine for giving Sasha jerseys that she didn’t want; Coopers for (vegan!) Beer; DJ Hired Hands for block rocking beats; Adam O2 for doing the flyer and generally bringing the hype; Tara Jayne for printing, late night laminating anal-retentiveness and not calling me from the toilet ever again; Nik Cee for being the nicest guy in the world and finally walking away from an alleycat without winning anything; all the folks who did checkpoints, especially those who had to ride a long way to theirs; all the riders who rocked up, bust their guts blasting through traffic on a Saturday arvo, and rolled back into Pony with huge smiles on their faces; and, finally, everyone else who came down, hung out, talked shit and generally made the day as fun as hell.
When we arrived there were some folks there already. Eventually, with the skies turning greyer by the minute, the number of riders grew to 46, including a considerable number of out of towners, bogans in full costume, noobs riding their first alleycat, and a representative from the VIS on his BT (who later decided not to ride, possibly because I told him I’d tell his coach).
After the chaos of registration riders were told to park their bikes at the Capel Street end of the alley, then taken up the other end for their briefing. A number of riders had parked their bikes assuming a quick dash out Capel Street into the city, and were sorely disappointed when informed that they would have to leave via the other exit. Sucks to be them!
The first checkpoint, where riders received their manifests, was Gate 4 at the MCG, which was once the closest entrance to the infamous Bay 13. This was the first of many bogan landmarks riders were asked to visit. Once they had their manifests riders were asked to visit, in no particular order, the following locations:
The Tote Hotel, where they were told to collect a Beer Coaster for a Bogan Beer and deliver it to the finish at Pony Bikes.
Carlton United Breweries, where they were asked to fill out a Centrelink form. McKenny at this checkpoint lived out his dole officer revenge fantasies and was very particular with his forms.
The Astor Cinema, which isn’t really a bogan landmark, but most riders went straight here from the CUB, and as such were forced to do a “Chap Lap” of Chapel Street, which, on a Saturday night, is as important to bogans as breathing. And at the Astor they had to yell out a bogan insult. Poor Blakey at this Checkpoint copped it pretty hard, but made up for it by demanding the manager of the Astor hand over his manifest before going inside.
Pit Lane at the Albert Park, where they were asked to do a skid. Apparently the Corporate Games were also taking place at this checkpoint, which made the traffic interesting.
Spearmint Rhino Men’s Club in King Street, where they were asked to sing a bogan song (Khe Sahn was a popular choice here – and most people, despite hipster moustaches, colourmatched fixies and homemade tattoos, still knew the words).
The Church opposite Swanston Maccas, where they were given temporary Southern Cross tattoos. Nik and I were a bit concerned about this checkpoint due to the constant presence of real bogans, but other than a hug from a crazy bearded lady, Casey and Magda at this checkpoint did just fine.
The first riders started trickling in about an hour and twenty minutes after being sent on their way. Cranky Sundays mainstay Chaz (aka Chamazing, Chaztastic, Viva Chaz Vegas) came home first and was slightly bewildered to discover this was the case. His buddy Jason followed his wheel all the way into second place, his blonde mullet resplendent in the southerly breeze. Brisbane rider Gypsy had been advised to chase Jay and Coopz around town, in order to not get lost, and managed to do this and more, claiming first out-of-towner and third overall (relegating Jay and Coopz to a bunch finish!). Teagan came in about sixteenth overall and claimed first girl, followed by Sara from Sydney and the ever-irrepressible Megz, who also claimed best stack. She didn’t stack at all, but a bout of food poisoning the week previous had left her stomach slightly unsettled, and she was given this prize for vomiting on a car. First noob went to Scott, who swore he’d be back for more, and DFL went to Caff, who was very excited about her almost new, only slightly soiled Australian Cycling Team cap.
Best outfit was hotly contested, with a number of mullets, cut off denim jackets, Frenzal Rhomb T-shirts, footy jumpers and Australian Flags decorating the peleton. Eventually, however, the prize went to Max, who rocked up to the start with his own southern cross tattoo, a blacked out tooth, a well-worn wifebeater and the matching Collingwood beanie and scarf set, but by the end of the race had somehow also accumulated a Taco Bill Sombrero, a cask of goon and some poor woman’s actual dole form. I guess she won’t be getting her payment this week.
All prize winners were told to pick one item from a large selection of swag, with podium finishers also rewarded with some cold hard cash. The exceptions to this rule were 1st overall, who was given a B43 wheelset from Velocity, and DFL, who received the aforementioned cap from the bottom of Nik’s cupboard. When the prizes went down to about 10th overall Nik and I started throwing stuff out into the crowd. Special thanks here should go to Coffee Supreme, who wrapped up their prizes in Hessian bags so they looked like Coffee. Nik threw them into the receptive audience, where they were later revealed to be some sweet swag from Charge, including a saddle and some forks. Tricky!
Special thanks should also go to the rain for holding out until we’d finished; Sasha from Pony Bikes for hosting and giving so much to her adopted city in such a short time – Sydney’s loss has been our gain; Ilana from the Bike Film Festival for arranging a bunch of the prizes, organizing a bunch of the shenanigans that took place at Pony that day, co-ordinating the volunteers and generally running around being efficient; Velocity for the wheelset; Gypsy from Brisbane for bringing down swag from Brisbane Outdoor Gear and Gear Brisbane, which are two different shops, duh; Spray Ya Bike for an appropriate Best Outfit prize; Coffee Benny Tatts from Genovese Coffee for being extremely generous with the caffeine; Jona Gunn at Coffee Supreme for being tricky; Natasha at Crumpler for always, always supporting the scene; Knog for doing the same, even if Mike told Facebook he was going to ride and then didn’t; Jamie from Skin Grows Back for making the best courier gear around and always being willing to share it with muppets putting on alleycats; The Freedom Machine for giving Sasha jerseys that she didn’t want; Coopers for (vegan!) Beer; DJ Hired Hands for block rocking beats; Adam O2 for doing the flyer and generally bringing the hype; Tara Jayne for printing, late night laminating anal-retentiveness and not calling me from the toilet ever again; Nik Cee for being the nicest guy in the world and finally walking away from an alleycat without winning anything; all the folks who did checkpoints, especially those who had to ride a long way to theirs; all the riders who rocked up, bust their guts blasting through traffic on a Saturday arvo, and rolled back into Pony with huge smiles on their faces; and, finally, everyone else who came down, hung out, talked shit and generally made the day as fun as hell.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
A Million Bucks.
This weekend:
Saturday 21st November
Ring of Fire Party @ Pony Bikes
Bogan's Day Out Alleycat - 1.30 (ten bucks to enter - bring a pen, bag and lock!)
Roller Race of Terror - 4.30
Bunnyhop Comp - sometime after that
Footdown (the people's favourite) - throughout the evening.
Pony Bikes is at 87 Capel St, West Melbourne.
Look for the signs / Follow the ruckus.
All Bikes Welcome / All Riders Welcome / All Hecklers Especially Welcome.
Saturday 21st November
Ring of Fire Party @ Pony Bikes
Bogan's Day Out Alleycat - 1.30 (ten bucks to enter - bring a pen, bag and lock!)
Roller Race of Terror - 4.30
Bunnyhop Comp - sometime after that
Footdown (the people's favourite) - throughout the evening.
Pony Bikes is at 87 Capel St, West Melbourne.
Look for the signs / Follow the ruckus.
All Bikes Welcome / All Riders Welcome / All Hecklers Especially Welcome.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I'll Never Be A Rock And Roll Star.
I have been informed, by reliable sources, that Mark Renshaw googled me. Sometimes I think that this whole 'cyclist of the year' thing has jumped the shark, but really, it just keeps getting funnier.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
La La La La La La La La La Means I Love You.
Conversation with Lincoln the Barista at Ray's this morning:
Brendan: I'll have two strong soy lattes, thanks. With two sugars in each.
Lincoln: Ok, sure. But are these both for you?
Brendan: Yes.
Lincoln: Oh, dude, I'm sorry.
And that nicely sums up the last - and the next - few weeks.
Brendan: I'll have two strong soy lattes, thanks. With two sugars in each.
Lincoln: Ok, sure. But are these both for you?
Brendan: Yes.
Lincoln: Oh, dude, I'm sorry.
And that nicely sums up the last - and the next - few weeks.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Stop Rewinding This.
HOLY CRAP I'M A FINALIST!
Please vote again for your people's choice cyclist of the year:
http://cycling.drewbytes.com.au/Peoples_Choice_finalists_2009.cfm
Please vote again for your people's choice cyclist of the year:
http://cycling.drewbytes.com.au/Peoples_Choice_finalists_2009.cfm
There’s Nothing Quite As Harmful As The Slow Moving Day.
When you start cycling you do a cost-benefit analysis, either consciously or sub-consciously. You weigh up the positives - increased fitness, healthy competition, camaraderie, fun – against the negatives – the financial cost, unhealthy competition, braggadocio, shaving rash in places it shouldn’t ever occur, chafing. Eventually you decide that it’s worth it.
And it is worth it. I’d never suggest otherwise. But there are probably some further negatives you’ve neglected to factor in. It’s only when they become pressing that you realize that you’ve overlooked them. And this weekend just gone they’ve become pressing, if not for me, then definitely for folks who I hold in high regard.
The first of these is crashes, which are common. But even though they are common, it’s important not to factor them in to your analysis. This may seem counterintuitive, as they certainly represent a gigantic flashing minus sign, but the minute you start recognizing crashing as a factor is the minute you become a very average racer. You have to ride smart, sure, and safe too – I’ll be the first one to rip you to shreds if you ride dangerously – but if you’re worrying about crashing all the time then you’re not worrying about going fast, getting through traffic or around that next corner – all the stuff that makes cycling fun.
This being said, when crashes happen they tear the guts out of every cyclist everywhere. Every one of us has crashed at some point, and we all know the pain of gravel rash, bruises, broken bones. Some of us know the pain of paralysis, intensive care units, death of loved ones. When you hear of someone you know suffering your heart goes out to them, and next time you get on the bike you hope that today won’t be the day it happens to you.
The second of these are the cops. This is a tad more controversial, but hey, if you ride alleycats cops are a problem. Such as on Friday night, when Campbell was forced to hide in a carpark for a good fifteen minutes until the cops gave up on finding him – in his Halloween outfit. Which was an extremely skimpy bikini. Or last night, when Pip found himself in the cells for four hours thanks to a party that got out of hand. I don’t think you should factor in the cops either, but rather ride like they’re not there at all. Occasionally you get fined (twice in the last month, in my case), occasionally you spend a night in prison.
So, in light of the series of totally shit incidents that have tipped the scales a little more to the negative side, I’m getting interactive. A while back Liam had a crack at explaining why we ride alleycats, but I’m going to broaden the topic a little bit and ask you, reader, why you ride. Don’t make it too long, because my attention span is short. Leave your response in the comments section. Best one wins a prize. I swear this time the prize exists.
And it is worth it. I’d never suggest otherwise. But there are probably some further negatives you’ve neglected to factor in. It’s only when they become pressing that you realize that you’ve overlooked them. And this weekend just gone they’ve become pressing, if not for me, then definitely for folks who I hold in high regard.
The first of these is crashes, which are common. But even though they are common, it’s important not to factor them in to your analysis. This may seem counterintuitive, as they certainly represent a gigantic flashing minus sign, but the minute you start recognizing crashing as a factor is the minute you become a very average racer. You have to ride smart, sure, and safe too – I’ll be the first one to rip you to shreds if you ride dangerously – but if you’re worrying about crashing all the time then you’re not worrying about going fast, getting through traffic or around that next corner – all the stuff that makes cycling fun.
This being said, when crashes happen they tear the guts out of every cyclist everywhere. Every one of us has crashed at some point, and we all know the pain of gravel rash, bruises, broken bones. Some of us know the pain of paralysis, intensive care units, death of loved ones. When you hear of someone you know suffering your heart goes out to them, and next time you get on the bike you hope that today won’t be the day it happens to you.
The second of these are the cops. This is a tad more controversial, but hey, if you ride alleycats cops are a problem. Such as on Friday night, when Campbell was forced to hide in a carpark for a good fifteen minutes until the cops gave up on finding him – in his Halloween outfit. Which was an extremely skimpy bikini. Or last night, when Pip found himself in the cells for four hours thanks to a party that got out of hand. I don’t think you should factor in the cops either, but rather ride like they’re not there at all. Occasionally you get fined (twice in the last month, in my case), occasionally you spend a night in prison.
So, in light of the series of totally shit incidents that have tipped the scales a little more to the negative side, I’m getting interactive. A while back Liam had a crack at explaining why we ride alleycats, but I’m going to broaden the topic a little bit and ask you, reader, why you ride. Don’t make it too long, because my attention span is short. Leave your response in the comments section. Best one wins a prize. I swear this time the prize exists.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Knowledge Tends To Democratize.
Ok, so I've been a bit serious of late, what with all the ranting and complaining and layperson's political polemic. And what better way to counterbalance that than an internet campaign to elect someone to something totally undeserved?
Vote 1, Brendan Bailey, for the Scody 2009 People's Choice Cyclist of the Year.
Because Stuart O'Grady and Cadel Evans have already won enough awards. Because the cyclist of the year shouldn't be some pro who you never see battling into the wind on the way home from work. Because I'm an aging fixie punk with bad tattoos and questionable personal hygiene. Because I like going to fancy dinners. Because "People's Choice" should mean "One of the People". And if I'm nothing else, I'm definitely a person!
You don't have to be a cyclist to vote, just an Australian resident. Nominations close this Friday.
Here's the link:
http://cycling.drewbytes.com.au/Peoples_Choice_Nomination_2009.cfm
Thanks!
Vote 1, Brendan Bailey, for the Scody 2009 People's Choice Cyclist of the Year.
Because Stuart O'Grady and Cadel Evans have already won enough awards. Because the cyclist of the year shouldn't be some pro who you never see battling into the wind on the way home from work. Because I'm an aging fixie punk with bad tattoos and questionable personal hygiene. Because I like going to fancy dinners. Because "People's Choice" should mean "One of the People". And if I'm nothing else, I'm definitely a person!
You don't have to be a cyclist to vote, just an Australian resident. Nominations close this Friday.
Here's the link:
http://cycling.drewbytes.com.au/Peoples_Choice_Nomination_2009.cfm
Thanks!
Friday, October 23, 2009
I'm A Poor Boy Now.
People are attracted to pretty things, and that's ok. For example, I have a really nice red shirt from Ben Sherman. It's all fitted and really bright and I look totally hot in it. That's cool. I didn't, however, only buy the shirt because I look totally hot in it, although I do. The first and paramount purpose of a shirt is to cover up nakedness and, in my case a few dodgy tattoos. The secondary purpose of a shirt is probably to keep me warm. Only after these two does me looking totally hot come into the equation. If, by some strange warping of logic, my priorities became all skewed and I started valuing my appearance above everything else, well, I probably wouldn't have bought the same shirt. Or I might have, but I might have just hung it over my shoulder and walked it down the street. At any rate, all of a sudden my shirt wouldn't be about anything practical, but rather aesthetics, perhaps even at the expense of practicality.
While this epic (which should be taken here to mean "unapproved") Boski x Cinelli Collabo doesn't necessarily come at the expense of practicality (even if it doesn't have a brake), it certainly places aesthetics above all else. And apparently aesthetics are expensive indeed - the complete bike is selling for $2750, whereas some calculations I pulled out of my butt has the parts/frame coming to about $1700. That's a cool thousand dollars to have different coloured letters on the frame.
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't care if you want to make your bike look pretty, and nor do I care if you spend a lot of unnecessary money on it. I do, however, start to upchuck a little bit when you talk more about how your bike looks - or what parts are on it - than you actually ride it. And this Collabo seems to be placing the emphasis firmly on the former. No, here we have a bike as an object to be consumed visually, rather than ridden.
I know that these kinds of things are "dropping" daily, and that this particular bastardization shouldn't bother me any more than a stroll through fixed gear gallery. But it does. And I think that's mostly because it's happening here, where I live. And I can tell you now that Boski has never supported any underground cycling events in this town. Hell, I quickly scanned through the one hundred and eleven people who told facebook they're attending and I think I've only ever seen five or six of them out riding. I've certainly only ever seen a couple of them at events. Like the people who listen to Blink 182 and tell people they're into punk, these folks seem to be into cycling without the jagged edges, taking the easily consumed parts of the culture but refusing to give anything back, even by way of participation.
So, here's what I propose. On the 7th of November, at 1pm - the same day and time as the launch of this abomination - get your friends together and go for a ride. Head out of town - you can take the Merri Creek bike path all the way to the Ring Road bike path, for example, and then join up to the Craigieburn bike path. There's a nice bakery in Craigieburn where you could stock up on carbs before heading back the way you came. It's about 60ks all up. There won't be any free beer, of course, and no one will win a set of Deep Vs. It may, however, be a really nice day. Leave a comment if you need a map.
While this epic (which should be taken here to mean "unapproved") Boski x Cinelli Collabo doesn't necessarily come at the expense of practicality (even if it doesn't have a brake), it certainly places aesthetics above all else. And apparently aesthetics are expensive indeed - the complete bike is selling for $2750, whereas some calculations I pulled out of my butt has the parts/frame coming to about $1700. That's a cool thousand dollars to have different coloured letters on the frame.
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't care if you want to make your bike look pretty, and nor do I care if you spend a lot of unnecessary money on it. I do, however, start to upchuck a little bit when you talk more about how your bike looks - or what parts are on it - than you actually ride it. And this Collabo seems to be placing the emphasis firmly on the former. No, here we have a bike as an object to be consumed visually, rather than ridden.
I know that these kinds of things are "dropping" daily, and that this particular bastardization shouldn't bother me any more than a stroll through fixed gear gallery. But it does. And I think that's mostly because it's happening here, where I live. And I can tell you now that Boski has never supported any underground cycling events in this town. Hell, I quickly scanned through the one hundred and eleven people who told facebook they're attending and I think I've only ever seen five or six of them out riding. I've certainly only ever seen a couple of them at events. Like the people who listen to Blink 182 and tell people they're into punk, these folks seem to be into cycling without the jagged edges, taking the easily consumed parts of the culture but refusing to give anything back, even by way of participation.
So, here's what I propose. On the 7th of November, at 1pm - the same day and time as the launch of this abomination - get your friends together and go for a ride. Head out of town - you can take the Merri Creek bike path all the way to the Ring Road bike path, for example, and then join up to the Craigieburn bike path. There's a nice bakery in Craigieburn where you could stock up on carbs before heading back the way you came. It's about 60ks all up. There won't be any free beer, of course, and no one will win a set of Deep Vs. It may, however, be a really nice day. Leave a comment if you need a map.
I Don't Owe Him Nothing.
It might sound kinda dorky, but on a day like today, when the sun is out and there's a southerly blowing, there's not much I like to do more than sit at Tre Bicchieri and watch people ride their bikes up Rathdowne Street. A nice big bike lane, a tailwind and bare arms feeling the springtime warmth. A coffee, a comfy chair and waitresses who know what you drink. That's a good day.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
We Don't Want A Bigger Piece Of The Pie. We Want A Different Pie.
The Sugarspokes crew mentioned on the internet the other day that they were going to head down to the Harrison Street Velodrome on their weekly ride. I knew I'd be in the neighbourhood and so volunteered to show them around. Despite my incorrect genitalia they took me up on my offer and rolled up at around seven last night, looking nervous as hell but equally keen.
I'd made some vague plans about various activities, but really, when you've not been out on the track before the best thing you can do to familiarise yourself is just to roll around until you feel comfortable. So that's pretty much what happened. After a while I suggested they form a paceline, and they did that for a few laps, then a couple of them had a crack at flying 200s (apologies are due to Hillary here, as she took the best line and really hit it hard, but the stupid timekeeper forgot to start the stopwatch). Nothing too exciting, but their enthusiasm was infectious, and I had an awesome time.
Tara is back in town and was rolling around with them. Before she left the country she'd been pretty burned by the bike scene around these parts, but earlier in the day she had texted me about the Sugarspokes ride. "I got back from the states," she wrote, "and everything is more positive. It's turned my views on it all around!"
I wrote a few weeks back about training there, and about how the sitting around sharing battle stories and talking shit was as important as the training. Nik Cee commented something similar when I quoted Liam about Alleycats. But this only works if you've established a community of equals, whose experiences are similar to yours, whose stories mesh with your own. This community was lacking for women cyclists, but instead of continuing to feel marginalised as individuals (or worse, hanging up their bikes altogether), these women got together and created something new and awesome. Something that seems to be growing by the week, in numbers and in heart. Something that is gradually altering the status quo of cycling, and is fucking fun to boot.
I'd made some vague plans about various activities, but really, when you've not been out on the track before the best thing you can do to familiarise yourself is just to roll around until you feel comfortable. So that's pretty much what happened. After a while I suggested they form a paceline, and they did that for a few laps, then a couple of them had a crack at flying 200s (apologies are due to Hillary here, as she took the best line and really hit it hard, but the stupid timekeeper forgot to start the stopwatch). Nothing too exciting, but their enthusiasm was infectious, and I had an awesome time.
Tara is back in town and was rolling around with them. Before she left the country she'd been pretty burned by the bike scene around these parts, but earlier in the day she had texted me about the Sugarspokes ride. "I got back from the states," she wrote, "and everything is more positive. It's turned my views on it all around!"
I wrote a few weeks back about training there, and about how the sitting around sharing battle stories and talking shit was as important as the training. Nik Cee commented something similar when I quoted Liam about Alleycats. But this only works if you've established a community of equals, whose experiences are similar to yours, whose stories mesh with your own. This community was lacking for women cyclists, but instead of continuing to feel marginalised as individuals (or worse, hanging up their bikes altogether), these women got together and created something new and awesome. Something that seems to be growing by the week, in numbers and in heart. Something that is gradually altering the status quo of cycling, and is fucking fun to boot.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
It's Understood.
It's no secret that when it comes to design, I'm no Picasso. Hell, I'm barely even a cut-rate Kandinsky. Which is why I'm opening up this opportunity to the general public, rather than battling it myself.
Brunswick Cycling Club are having an A grade Keirin night on the 24th of November. It will be excellent. But it needs a poster. And I thought that some of the more skilled design heads out there might like to have a crack at it.
Necessary info is:
Brunswick Cycling Club presents
A Grade Keirin Night
24th November, 7.30.
Darebin Indoor Sports Centre.
For more info email: secretary@brunswickcyclingclub.com
Themes are up to you, but it's Keirin racing, so Japanese style would suit.
I need design ideas by next Tuesday, when I will present them to the race committee, who will then choose their favourites. The winner will be subjected to the xbbx hype machine, which basically means flogging it on here, various bike forums and Facebook.
Email your finished product to brendanrocks@hotmail.com
Thanks!
Brunswick Cycling Club are having an A grade Keirin night on the 24th of November. It will be excellent. But it needs a poster. And I thought that some of the more skilled design heads out there might like to have a crack at it.
Necessary info is:
Brunswick Cycling Club presents
A Grade Keirin Night
24th November, 7.30.
Darebin Indoor Sports Centre.
For more info email: secretary@brunswickcyclingclub.com
Themes are up to you, but it's Keirin racing, so Japanese style would suit.
I need design ideas by next Tuesday, when I will present them to the race committee, who will then choose their favourites. The winner will be subjected to the xbbx hype machine, which basically means flogging it on here, various bike forums and Facebook.
Email your finished product to brendanrocks@hotmail.com
Thanks!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Ain't Nuthing Ta Fuck Wit.
Sunday turned out nice and clear, which was nice for the Hi-Vis Muppets tackling the Around the Bay in a Day, but didn't really affect those who rocked up to Rock - N - Roller Racing at the East Brunswick Club. The field grew to the limit of 32 riders pretty early on, and boasted a number of former roller racing champions in its midst. Competition was bound to be fierce.
The Cranky Sundays crew rolled up early to get some experience on the rollers, with a number of them looking a little worried about the lack of bolt-down forks. After a couple of minutes each, being held by Brunswick Cycling Club stalwarts Philthy and Greg (as well as a couple of pints of dutch courage), those worries disappeared into the wind. All day long, with a considerable number of newbies involved, there was only one person to fall off, and that was Andy "Track Cunt" White, who really shouldn't have, given he has his own set of rollers at home.
Being early birds worked out well for some of them, but less well for the underage members of their posse. Next time they'll know to bring their mums or dads - which, incidentally, was the advice followed by Nik Cee, even though he's almost thirty.
Riding proper started with flying 200s, to establish handicaps for the later rounds. Proper velodrome experience proved to be the difference here, with the first five places all being taken by Brunswick Cycling Club members. A notable exception was Crankies Member Ryan G, who was perhaps driven to his cracking time of 9.25 seconds by his choice in music. Murray McKenny didn't go quite as well, possibly because he chose the Benny Hill theme song.
The commissaires retired for a break after qualifying to figure out handicaps. The crowd were reminded at this point that the handicappers could be bribed with brownies. Only one rider came through with the goods, however - Team Handsome member Ben Ladner.
Match sprinting was next - evenly matched riders, without handicaps, over one lap. And the riders were definitely evenly matched, with a number of races being decided by less than half a tyre. Shannon Wuoti showed some early form here though, taking out Jamie "The Jams" with ease. Latecomer Blane also showed some skills, having scored Pip's place when he retired early.
A call went out at this point for riders willing to tackle the Brunswick Challenge. A hundred dollars was up for grabs for the rider who did the furthest distance on the rollers in one minute. After some creative and helpful heckling this was later split into two, in order to create a women's division. Anyone, regardless of gender, who reached 1600 metres would score a further hundred bucks as part of the Chooka Challenge. Coffee Ben had an early crack, but his mark only lasted until TC hit the imposing distance of 1175m.
Round Three was handicapped racing, and it was here that Philthy - and all of those who rode his bike - showed the benefit of having 98 gear inches. Campbell, fresh from coming 7th in the national Scott 24hour mountain bike endurance thing (and qualifying for the worlds!), busted a gut here
to take out his good mate Jerome. Lano also had arrived late - with Safa in tow - and he had a crack here, but without a decent warmup couldn't quite do enough to make the finals.A second call went out for the Brunswick Challenge, and a few more beers into the afternoon there were more takers. The creation of a girl's division set some female hearts a'racing. Megz was first to step up, setting the ultimately unbeatable distance of 975 metres. But she was given a run for her money by Sabrina, who had braved the commuter crowds and done the 100k version of the Around the Bay in a Day that morning.
The boys then stepped up and began to hurt themselves. Despite a broken collarbone Safa had a red hot go, but was let down by wobbles on the rollers. Chris Hickey brought his road bike out and made it to 1160m - still not enough to take down TC's winning mark. Brunswick Vice-President and Rock N Roller Racing Chief Commissaire NDF looked smoother than George Clooney on the rollers but only made the distance of 1110m. Andy was looking pretty pleased with himself until the endurance specialist stepped up.
And then, having ridden 1190m in one minute, sat back down.
Finals were up next, over two laps, with Megan racing Jamie For Jams for 3rd, and Shannon Wuoti and Ben "Brother Handsome" Ladner facing off for First Place. Jamie gave Megan 50 metres start, but was able to overcome it, his pink'd up Pista metaphorically whizzing past Megan's roadie in a dazzling display of hipster colour co-ordination.
The grand finale was upon us. Brother Handsome donned a Brunswick Cyling Club vest and 93 years of tradition. Shannon flexed his guns and felt confident about his 150m head start. Wu-Tang Clan blasted over the speakers and they hit it. Hard. Brother Handsome had half his catching up to do completed by in the first 200 metres, but took a lot longer to complete the other half. Both riders were smooth and fast. When Ben caught up with 100 to go Shannon stuck on that wheel for a while, but ultimately got dropped and was relegated to second place. Ladner took out first, in a rare victory for Team Handsome, and possibly a less rare victory for the persuasive power of brownies.
Real results are available here.
Thanks especially to Brunswick Cycling Club for providing the rollers and being my favourites, Ray's Bikes for excellent prizes that I wished I could've won, Cycle Underground for their continuing sponsorship - even if no-one ever claims their prizes, Nath for rocking up late but instructing us not to touch anything til he got there (and commissairing), Nik Cee for helping with the hype, Chris Hickey and Blakey for helping set up, Dave for commissairing and being an easily identifiable rego desk, Philthy and Greg for both holding riders and sharing their bikes, Kody and Mel from the East Brunswick Club for being most excellent hosts, my housemate Leith for letting me borrow his car for the millionth time, and anyone who rode, took photos, yelled, heckled, rocked up and sat up the back looking bemused, or just came along had a good time.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Who The Hell Is That? Why The Fuck Should I Care?
From Liam, who by all accounts put on a totally killer alleycat last week, and who comes closer to describing why we race alleycats than anyone else I've read. He also quotes me. Enjoy the circle jerk, readers!
"Where and Why
Sometime in mid 2006 a bike activism related uni project encouraged me to research urban cycling.
At the time 'fixie' culture hadn't hit its straps anywhere yet, but it was well on the way. The internet was my portal to this underground obsession, in particular fixed.org.au.
I was enchanted and captured by the helmet-cam videos of one NY'er Lucas Brunelle. It opened me up to a world where traffic and city streets became a sports field where incredible feats of skill and athleticism played out.
Alleycat races are traditionally the distillation of the day of a messenger/cycle courier into a fast paced race between many checkpoints simulating the pick ups of deliveries where a manifest is marked instead of a parcel.
The races generally last for 40 minutes for the fastest riders, who tend to be experienced messengers exhibiting disregard for traffic laws, manners and normal rider ethics :).
For most participants the chase is its own reward.
The pure animal thrill of entering an intersection at top speed, against the flow of traffic, and threading through moving cars with 3 other riders on your tail is not something to be lightly enjoyed, yet not easily forgotten.
If you do it right it takes till you reach the other side of the intersection for the drivers to react, an unstartled driver is a predictable one.
Brendan sums it up best with his observations.
At its very best "weaving impossible lines and creating space from nothing" is what it's about, and never has the chestnut "it's about the journey, not the destination" been more accurate, (particularly in my case seeing as I never seem to win anything..)"
"Where and Why
Sometime in mid 2006 a bike activism related uni project encouraged me to research urban cycling.
At the time 'fixie' culture hadn't hit its straps anywhere yet, but it was well on the way. The internet was my portal to this underground obsession, in particular fixed.org.au.
I was enchanted and captured by the helmet-cam videos of one NY'er Lucas Brunelle. It opened me up to a world where traffic and city streets became a sports field where incredible feats of skill and athleticism played out.
Alleycat races are traditionally the distillation of the day of a messenger/cycle courier into a fast paced race between many checkpoints simulating the pick ups of deliveries where a manifest is marked instead of a parcel.
The races generally last for 40 minutes for the fastest riders, who tend to be experienced messengers exhibiting disregard for traffic laws, manners and normal rider ethics :).
For most participants the chase is its own reward.
The pure animal thrill of entering an intersection at top speed, against the flow of traffic, and threading through moving cars with 3 other riders on your tail is not something to be lightly enjoyed, yet not easily forgotten.
If you do it right it takes till you reach the other side of the intersection for the drivers to react, an unstartled driver is a predictable one.
Brendan sums it up best with his observations.
At its very best "weaving impossible lines and creating space from nothing" is what it's about, and never has the chestnut "it's about the journey, not the destination" been more accurate, (particularly in my case seeing as I never seem to win anything..)"
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