Parlez Vous French Creek?

Treasa, Francine and I embarked on a wee road trip to French Creek where we finally encountered Spring.We missed Naomi who's recovering from the Boston Marathon and M who went to road racing camp. Suckers. They missed not only a great ride, but the Batmobile at a Turnpike rest stop. Check out this lunacy:
I don't know my way around French Creek, so I dutifully followed Frankie who seemed to know what she was doing. I almost puked going up the ghastly climb to the water tower. I'd like to attribute the nausea to the sudden temperature change, but alas I fear it's simply me being a lousy climber.

I activiated the self-timer, propped the camera on Frankie's saddle, and wound up with this shot:
Not bad, eh? I love the self-timer. Treasa looks so serious. Relax, T, we're on a bike ride!

On the way home, I felt compelled to stop at the ice cream drive thru on Ridge. After 5 minutes of blowing a hole in the ozone, I figured that someone must have died in the car at the head of the line. I parked and stood in line to avoid further emission damage. No one had died, but they must have ordered 50 ice cream sundaes or some such nonsense which was the cause of the time suck. Is this some sort of cosmic message to me that I would be better off avoiding ice cream?

Good Day Sunshine

Finally, two days of sun which leads to mountain bike fun.

Saturday's Rally in the Valley proved to be a well-organized, super fun event. I regret the 20 mile ride the day before the Fair Hill race, but I think I had sun fever. I just could not get enough outdoor time.

WFSG showed up with her son Shea. I rode with the usual suspects: M, D, Frankie, and Erik with rare appearance by Roger and Capt. Kirk. We acted like a bunch of tourists, asking people at the Inn to snap our photos. Neil Silverman was on hand with his Iphone, uploading photos on the fly.
Sarah King, M, and yours truly. Oh, look! A plate of food in hand. What a surprise. Here we are with Jewelie who promises to ride with us but thus far hasn't. I am calling you out, girl. Now it's in print!

Sunday, M, the boy, and I headed to Fair Hill. We nearly ran out of gas which elevated my heart rate to the red zone. No warm up needed for me! The course was fast, fun, and in superb shape. I managed to complete my two laps without dabbing and was pleased with that accomplishment. There were only a few areas of concern but they didn't bother me. Take that, roots, logs, and rocky climb.

The boy rocked his first race. He was awesome during the first 4/4 of the race and then flatted. Ray Z. provided "neutral tech support" and helped him change the tube. They totally thrashed the final 1/4 of the race in an attempt to bridge to the 3 racers Jimmy had been with most of the race. I am so proud.

Tomorrow calls for 40 and rainy. By noon I will be convinced that the Rally and Fair Hill were hallucinations and that instead of wasting time on Facebook I should be building an ark and buying parkas because it's never going to be nice again. Never.

School cannot end soon enough.

Whoa...TIme Warp

I've become unstuck in time. I packed up my gear after Marysville and drove into today. Did I lapse into a coma? How is it April 17?

Rain.

I've been inside for a week and have coped with not riding by falling into a self-induced black out of sorts.

DId I miss anything?

I look forward to seeing the Philly crew at the Rally in the Valley. I'll be working the reg table so please have at least 3 forms of i.d. on hand when you arrive. A bribe would be nice too.

Fair Hill Sunday. Unless of course it rains. Then Lower Providence. So many races, so little shine.

Moe: I'm better than dirt. Well, most kinds of dirt, not that fancy store-bought dirt... I can't compete with that stuff.

Well, we settled the costume solution. Moe Foes. It was Naomi's genius that created the concept and also the bribe that earned us the following accolades from promoter Mike Kuhn: "Lastly, the best bribe award and my most favoritist team at the race award goes to Moes Foes all of whom get free event T-shirts for the sweet sixxer of Belgium brews."

Moe, the embittered barkeep and proprietor of Moe's Tavern, constantly plagued by foes in the form of Bart Simpson's prank calls. Bart tortures people, especially Moe, with his prank calls. Examples:

1. Uh, Hugh Jass? Oh, somebody check the men's room for a Hugh Jass!

2. Bart is trying to call the Counter-Truancy unit on a cellphone; the line sounds like it is crossed
(Jack Bauer) Chloe, I need those schematics now!
(Bart) Who is this?
(Jack) I'm Jack Bauer - who the hell are you?
(Bart) Me? I'm, uh, Ahmed Adoodie (pronounced "I Made a Doodie")
(Jack) Chloe, find out all you can about Ahmed Adoodie. Does anyone there know Ahmed Adoodie?
(Chloe) Ahmed Adoodie - wealthy Saudi financier. Disappeared into Afghanistan in the late '90s.
(Jack) Really?
(Chloe) No, Jack, it's a joke name. You're being set up!
(Jack) Dammit!
Bart laughs; Jack fires a gun at someone

3. "Uh, Amanda Huggenkiss? Hey, I'm looking for Amanda Huggenkiss! Ah, why can't I find Amanda Huggenkiss?"
Barney says "Maybe your standards are too high!"
"You little S.O.B.! Why, when I find out who you are, I'm going to shove a sausage down your throat and stick starving dogs in your butt!"

Poor Moe. Poor Jack Bauer. Poor Jimmy Rock. Jimmy didn't receive a prank call, just the honor of a Lemans start. I guess that qualifies as a prank. Moe's foes consisted of the lovely Mariana Cutleras Hugh Jass; Naomi Takahashi as Amanda Hugginkiss; and yours truly as Ahmed Ahdudi. The boy donned Bart Simpson costume
and planned to ride around demanding, "I'm Bart Simpson, who the hell are you?" I didn't realize it was a Lemans start when I signed us up, and poor little Bart had to run 1/4 mile with giants to get his bike. Mother of the year, here.

We arrived in plenty of time to register and do a lap of the course superbly designed by Mike Kuhn of the VisitPA.com team. Although we lacked a tent, we had awesome neighbors (Drew, Nikki, and Kristin) who dished up a tasty post-race BBQ. Mmmmm.....grilled asparagus.

The conditions were windy, muddy, and nervous mother. That's right. It was the boy's first mountain bike race and I wanted him to have fun. He looked like death on a cracker pre-race but by his third lap (that's right, I wrote third lap) he was ready for more. I don't want to be one of those crazy Moms (to hell with you who just thought "too late") who pushes hobbies on their kids that the kids can't stand. My parents made me play junior golf. I guess I should have given it more of an effort, but the best part was zooming around in carts. Besides, who doesn't like riding a bike? Uh oh.
Since the boy is a bit of an attention hound (he comes by it honestly), the relay format suited his love of the spotlight. I think it's why he likes the track. Thanks to all of the kind racers who helped him out and let me know he was on his way. He said, "These people are really nice." And it's true. I told him that mountain biking is so hard that everything hurts including your teeth. People are nice to each other because we're all a bunch of crazy masochists. Speaking of which, wait till I introduce him to cross.

Half of the Bad Fat Monkey Cat team brought a 26" bike for the boy to try out. Sunday he rode 16 miles of Fairhill, including a loop of the 4/19 race course. Thanks for schlepping this down to the race. The boy immediately recognized the improvement in machines, and is absolutely ready to ride like a maniac.

Thanks to Mike Kuhn for a fabulous event.

Team Relay Race Costume Dilemma

So I'm tempted to opt out of the team relay since I can't come up with a costume idea. Seriously, our only chance of winning is if we ply the promoter with a ton of Belgian beer and don kick ass costumes. What's a girl to do?

My teammates for this endeavor include M, Naomi, and a secret weapon who shall remain nameless. This secret weapon suggested we name the team the "Atomic Televisions" or "ATVs." Too many Godzilla movies, I'm afraid.

I've posted an article about the team relay on my Examiner site and would be much obliged if my 6 blog readers would check it out. More cash = more race entry fees.

I'm really looking forward to this race because I have euphoric recall of the way mountain bike racing used to be in the late 80s early 90s and this event reminds me of those bygone days. Can't repeat the past? Maybe not, but it can be improved.

See you Saturday. Hopefully with a winning costume.