Adventurette de Taquito...... GOOOOAAAAL!

June 24, 2011

Say what you will about the hazards (i.e., intoxicated bicyclists) of the Thursday night taco ride in Council Bluffs, Iowa, I find that each ride is a minor adventure. An adventurette, if you will, which is not quite as good as an adventuress, but better than a coquette.

Yesterday's ride started off with some vigorous pedaling with my stalwart father and bicycling roll-model. Yuckitty, yuck. (I'll put that 50 cents wherever I want to, damn it!) We made it to Margaritaville, and none too soon. It was not an easy multi-task as we browsed on succulently sweet mulberries and drank beer. We were like happy, bicycling sun bears (Ursus malayanus). As usual there was plenty of socializing to be had at this lovely wayside haven. We met a college student who immediately offered us swigs of a drink called "Four Loko." It was similar to Robitussen (a favorite of my dad and me).
"That's good." I stated.
The young woman didn't seem to agree.
"It's not bad when it's cold," she allowed.
Me and Dad quickly chugged the last of the beverage, and the young woman seemed relieved. She held the 24 oz. can horizontally while her large partner Brett crushed the can with his shoulder blades(!)
"That was awesome!" I gushed.
Melinda snorted and explained that no, it really wasn't. Brett concurred. Melinda was scheduled for a multi-day bicycling trip with some friends along the Cowboy Trail in northern Nebraska.  Despite having never ridden more than 50 miles in a single day, she was about to embark upon a 4-day ride averaging about 70 miles/day! I was impressed by her intrepidity (but I would expect nothing less from an International Studies major with a minor in German and Spanish)
.
We made it to the lovely Mineola Steakhouse and enjoyed an outdoor dinner with yet more socializing.

I met a man who explained that, although the personable and ubiquitous Greg Losh is often credited as being the instigator of the infamous Taco Ride, it should more accurately be attributed to the shy and retiring author of Biking Iowa, Bob Morgan.
"Fascinating, simply fas-cinating." I said sincerely.
After eating, meeting a local television weatherman and chatting with people about our fabulous bicycle jerseys (Team Nobby - MS Bike Ride, Nebraska - July 8 & 9), we ate and started back.

During a pee break on the return trip, we happened upon a vacant log cabin with a moonshine still. The old man and I cautiously sampled several quarts. Hmm. Not bad, but it could use some mulberries. Although the old timer was unfazed, I became unabashedly impaired and swerved precipitously homewards, giddily slapping low to medium fives at oncoming bicycle traffic.
When we reached the trailhead, my disgusted father lovingly dumped a bucket of ice water over my head and then shoved some coffee grounds into my water bottle and bid me good eve.

(exaunt Snot and Ancestor)
(sunset, sunrise)

Ahh, the lovely Crispus rumex in its autumnal-esque, early summer glory.

Today I was able to get the Old Bastard out for a slightly less-than-usually encumbered (i.e., sporty) ride.

Then on my way home, the versatile OB became a kind of porterette, as I cycled proudly home with a multi-tool bungee-corded to my trusty Blackburn mountain rack.

Yes, quite the series of events to ponder during my exuberant Friday evening of yard work. And if that weren't enough, methinks a tale from the bard doth cry out for reenactment this magical fortnight. Yes, of course it is that time of year where the beloved Shakespeare on the Green takes place at the lovely Elmwood Park. The current experience is called A Midsummer's Night Dream. 

It has also come to my attention that the good ol' US of A (aka sombrero alto de Mexico) will be competing against Mexico in an upcoming match of South American futbol (con accento y !!, tu quatro loko!) That's right, tomorrow at 8 there will be many excited exclamations by Univision announcers as the event commences around 8 p.m. CDT. The winner will be expected to drink the Golden Cup!  (I predict a USA win, since it is closer to the 4th of July than the Cinco de Mayo - and I'll bet you a shot of El Toro on that one!)

Here's to a great weekend. 

Here's Rollin' at you, Clive!

June 19, 2011

I seem to have survived yet another organized ride in the form of Rollin' to Colon. The form of a colon may also be seen in Michigan's Palmer Lake. A town near the lake was named Colon, and Colon, Nebraska was allegedly named after the town in Michigan. I consider your colon to be pretty much the same as your large intestine (mine too). After the ride I scarfed down more than half a "Thai" pizza with a ton of sweet chili sauce and my colon was playing chicken with my stomach.

The ride itself was dreamlike as we started out in a thick fog that forced me to remove my spectacles and squint nerdily about saying things like, "Are you my dad?" and "Pardon me, was that your water bottle?" My dad flew by the first rest stop and so I was forced to keep pedaling along so as not to be lost in my myopic stew of incomprehension. After several more confusing minutes the fog began to lift and I returned to my accustomed vantage point behind my soothing, non-confrontational lenses of perceiving.
We eventually rolled into the welcoming Colon.

A very pretty, peaceful community, with a wall dedicated to angst and expressionism where we all (in an act of fraternal empathy and slightly suppressed angst) leaned our bicycles.

This wall seems to act as a kind of pressure relief valve that allows Colonians to maintain a tranquil disposition even during the rough times digesting the suspicious concoctions life sometimes crams into its gullet.

While I was waiting for my chance to be alone with the designated toilet for men I heard many women commenting happily that it was nice to see that the men's line was much longer than the women's. It was true and unusual.

This line included me, and wrapped around the corner (colon-like)!

After some snacking, I noticed this sweet-ass Salsa Vaya.

I am considering one day purchasing a bicycle with the awesome power of the disc braking system, and perhaps this machine will someday be the conveyor of that awesomeness to my trembling index fingers. I will call her Suzanne Vega and we shall sing to one another!

When we left Colon, we rolled along the highway near the town of Prague. I felt like a tourist in my home state, and I hope to one day return to this Europeanesque delicacy of a community.

My butt was damn sore by the time we made it back to Valley. Large amounts of food made me feel significantly better. Then as we were leaving, I heard someone say that my cousin had won a prize! I accepted the prize (in a bag) on his behalf. It is now resting, comfortably unopened, in the trunk of the 'tro (I hope it's not a sandwich or a kitten). I will let you know what it is when I find out. If you are my cousin, please feel free to stop by to claim your prize.

The Rollin' to Colon experience was the most memorable Father's Day event ever. Please believe me and be ready to hit the Colon with me next year!

June 20, 2011

Made it down to the College World Series tonight in time to see some storminess and an impressive display of pro-bicycling propaganda.

Since I was without a faithful bicycle companion, I felt a bit sheepish as I moved my unattached feet up and down in a non-circular pattern, seemingly mocked by the superior glances of the two-wheeled centaurs proudly claiming roads and sidewalks everywhere I looked.

There was even valet bicycle parking, which I eyed enviously. I imagined myself handing over the Old Bastard, slipping the concierge a 5 and winking, "Clean 'er up a tad, wouldja Clive?"

Ah, yes. The day of the bicycle had come at last! Unfortunately it was also the day of the 70 mph wind and heavy rains that caused the game to be postponed after the 6th inning, and me to temporarily lose my sporty visor. Still, all in all, an enjoyable excursion to the evolving downtown area in the midst of the CWS bustle. And we all know how good it is to get up into that bustle now and then, eh Clive? wink wink, nudge nudge.

Incidentally, some blame (or thank) the bicycle for the decline in the bustle. That's right, those ladies with a yen for independent travel at speeds faster than your average pedestrian were not able to mount a "freedom machine" with that unwieldy garb limiting their posteriors. "Good bit o' trivia for ya, eh Clive? Cheerio, ol' chap, cheerio!"

Feral Cat

June 17, 2011

I enjoyed some nice human interaction during my daily bicycling today. I also saw what may have been a feral swamp cat lurking in the lower regions of Woodchuck Holler.

This animal may have been moving to the highlands in response to the rising water levels in the low-lying areas of the Missouri River Valley. This may present a grand opportunity for me to stage/film some Marty Stouffer-esque animal fights - feral cat vs. woodchuck(?) What would they fight about? Since I know from unfortunate personal experience (still too soon to type much about, but I hope that the scars will one day heal) that woodchucks are naturally belligerent creatures, I am hoping that a vicious feral cat vs. woodchuck match will occur when I happen to be cycling past. This brings to mind the somewhat painful documentary
Grizzly Man, which I viewed a month or so ago. Although the insane subject of the film had a wheedling tone that (spoiler alert) caused him to be mauled to death in horrific fashion, before his unfortunate ending he captured an exceptional fight between two male grizzlies in one of the most gripping series of moments that I have witnessed captured on video.

Following my glimpse of Feral Cat I gave a pilgrim some slightly erroneous directions to Norfolk, Nebraska (near the place of my birthing) and then, during my return trip, I met a dancing sign guy. Although I respected both of my comrades of the sidewalks too much to paparazzi their asses with my trusty Nikon Coolpix, it was still life affirming to encounter some of my ilk out on their respective beats.

I have also recently learned about a progressive project underway on the right coast known as the East Coast Greenway. It is sure to become the motorless Route 66 of our time. So be sure to get your panniers and your distance legs packed for leisurely, extended action. I will soon be planning a trip up and down this utopian vision of happy camping and I hope that you will plan on partaking in this kick-getting extended excursion on the east edge. I will of course be packing my Neonduhrthal slippers, a composite bow and an appetite for gooduckit. Maybe a harmonica, too.

The Library is where it is at!

What is going on, more like what isn't going on!? My Big Gay Italian Wedding is approaching it's final weekend at SNAP Productions. The College World Series and a downtown water park are being installed this weekend. The Bruins won the Stanley Cup (and start the pre-season in 2 weeks). Vancouver is harshing it's own gig (which [to my understanding, having never actually been there] is being chillactastic). Dictators refuse to be removed. A tumultuous time indeed.
In times like these, it is very comforting to know that many of us are able to take shelter in one of the pride and joys of the American tax contributor - the public library! Yes, it is probably the best investment of funds since they hired Badly Drawn Boy to perform at the Red Sky Festival in the beautiful canals of downtown Omaha (hint, hint). Here are some photos of the peace and serenity that we reverently call "library."

I may have an extra special appreciation for this home due to my recent discovery of the graphic novels section (now I know where the hell those lovely Sandman graphic novels by Neil Gaiman reside)! All those pictures make reading so much easier.  Although I am blessed with a home, I am seriously considering spending all of my free time at the library. You probably should too. Check out this landscaping.

And bicyclists are welcome to practice some sweet freestylin' moves/trials exercises on these obstacles/benches/sculptures, as evidenced by this sign.

Just thinking about it makes me wanna finish my beer, scarf down a quick garden-fresh salad and pedal spastically towards this haven of hospitality.
After my satisfying library experience, I made it back home in time to slip on some Neonduhrrthal slippers

and pad my way over to the local sports bar to grab a copy of the local entertainment newsrag. It was during this expedition that I noticed some of my tree friends were marked with numbers. Damn tree-hating naztris. Luckily there is someone to stand up for our quiet friends. That's right, luckily the Lorax's sister, Lorsaw takes care of the trees in our region (Eastern North America - as denoted in the Golden Guide to the Trees of North America). She was kind enough to pose for a photo for me, too. Here it is.

I think she said that spray paint was biodegradable...

As some of you may not know, this upcoming weekend is the Rollin' to Colon ride here in eastern Nebraska. You can ride a variety of distances in a relatively tranquil portion of the state, raise some money for colon cancer, and visit Colon, Nebraska. Not a bad way to spend a Father's Day, eh?

I was also informed by my local newspaper that Omaha now had some B-cycles that you could rent to cruise around some of the more happenin' areas of town. Rates are approximately $5/hour, then $1.25 per hour after that. I'm pretty sure these are the same bikes that I rode during Omaha's Ultimate Urban Adventure and I have to say that I am a big fan. Large front basket (probably holds about a 12-pack), stable, and it's got a few gears. Comfy ride for some bar hopping/casual about-towning.

What are you looking at? Summer Arts Festival?

June 10, 2011



It is now that much anticipated time of year when the Omaha Summer Arts Festival occurs in the beautiful down side of town. There may be a man selling these flattened critter panimal clocks-

Yes, they are awesome.
What do they look like to you?

1. Lovely, nearly 2-dimensional living cartoon animals
2. Transformimals (look for them in the upcoming Transformer 3!)
3. Roadkill

Well, if you answered correctly (that is, according to my understanding of the artist's vision) you were transported to the magical world of Badly Drawn Boy, if you were incorrect you may have seen the fearsome visage of Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead (who has not ever been able to set foot in the Omaha area, most recently due to Dallas thunderstorms [incidentally these T-storms may have provided cosmic power to the NBA team, who will soon to be known as the Thunderstorms to acknowledge the power they used to defeat their less ominous sounding nemesis the Miami Heat in the soon-to-be/recently completed NBA finals]).

6-11-11

Back from a night out at the Summer Arts Festival. No panclocks. We did see a cool band called Red Baraat. I took a flashless photo so as not to distract the fine horn section.

Tonight's entertainment looks great too - Mountain Standard Time has a good bluegrass jam groove and Lil' Brian is a kind of hip-hop zydeco badass.

Another beautiful evening - hello, I must be going.
 

To the Batbike!

June 9, 2011

I was standing in the checkout aisle at my local hardware store to buy some carrot seeds for the garden when I noticed some cinnamon Altoids on the impulse buy rack. As I was purchasing my delightful goods the guy behind me began piling his stuff up on the counter behind me - radiator clamps and a length of hose, which he was wielding about as it were a foam noodle and he a delirious-from-dehydration child at the swimming pool. As I was sharing a nice moment of mutual smugness with the cashier as he asked (knowing my response would be negatory), "Ya wanna bag?"
"Oh no, my good man, oh, ohhh!" I responded as a radiator hose tapped my derriere.

That's right, my ass had been tapped by the man with the long black hose, yuckitty yuck.
I tried a coquettish giggle and turned to the man, expecting a sheepish smile or perhaps an inquisitive twin-rapid-eyebrow arching (ala Tom Selleck). He avoided any eye contact and did not acknowledge my existence in any way. I felt very slightly dehumanized, and if I had been able I would have sung to him a Badly Drawn Boy song right there on the spot, perhaps "Camping Next to Water" to help him realize that we are all humans together in this large whirlygig we call life. But, alas, I am no BDB, and so I had to engage in the life-confirming act of photography.

Why, I bet he would not have treated Batgirl (always Yvonne Craig in my mind) that way! I bring this up because I feel a deep and abiding kinship with the Batman in all forms. So much so that I have an autographed copy of Back to the Batcave, by Adam West (of course), and I used to wear Dark Knight t-shirts very frequently in high school - so much so that they eventually had large whitish stains under the armpits from my severe sweatiness coupled with a penchant for heavy layers of Ban roll-on deodorant. I also made a fat, lumpy Batman sculpture in junior high art class.

If the lumpy Batman of my sculpture were to come to life like a more heavily costumed Frosty the Snowman, I bet he would've cycled around town on a bicycle similar to The Old Bastard. Yes, I believe that the OB is definitely the Batbike for the disenfranchised, tired and chunky Batman (oh Batman, you are as multifaceted as a Hindu deity and are a friend to us all when we need it).

A little known fact - Yvonne Craig was an avid cyclist, as shown in this photograph.

Although she is often shown astride a self-propelled, bi-wheeled machine, I was told by Yvonne herself, while she was signing my photo,

that she preferred bicycling to the motorized bi-wheeling.

What's that Robin, the city needs us? Quick, to the Batbike!

Batgirl promo

Wicked Woodchucks, Batgirl!?

June 7, 2011

As many of you know, today was day 3 of the Bike Ride Across Nebraska (BRAN). I am proud to say that my uncle is out there putting in the miles. It has been rather hot here. I sent him an encouraging e-mail (that I imagine he will receive following his long traverse of the long sloping, upside-down Land Cruiser-shaped land that is called Nebraska). Here is a lengthy excerpt:

June 7, 2011
Hi there Uncle Paul!
Hope you are having/had a great time on your BRAN (not sure if you’ll be checking your e-mail on the trip-I would imagine it might not be accessible very often + I wouldn't really want to be bothered if I were you).

Looks like it’s currently a bit toasty out there, but I am hopeful that it is a dry heat. It was hot enough yesterday that I harvested all the leafy greens from the garden (they were starting to bolt), and by the time I was finished I was too late to pedal my bike in to work. I guess that’s not all bad, as it got up to 100, and was a little muggy here.

After work yesterday I got our rotating composter (fashioned from a 55-gallon plastic drum) set up and stuck in some “compostables” (dried grass clippings, old instant coffee [it came with the house], and a few kitchen scraps).

etc.

On my usual bicycle adventure course I was happy to stop and slow things down in order to snap some shots of some of my favorite "trail pals." Here's the first two canine friends that usually run the length of their fenced-in domain with me. (I call the big one Toto and the poodle-ish one Do).

Then there is this peppy scarecrow who changes outfits more often than Lady Gaga.

And of course the dancing bear (possibly an Asian black [green?] bear) shrubbery with his lion friends.

Not sure where their friend, the Tin Man, is hiding out, but I'm sure he can't be far. They are all assuredly excited to once again be in the town hosting the fabulously popular musical - Wicked. Yes, for those who may not be aware, this fantastically fabulous extravaganza is making its third trip through town in as many years. As a stolid supporter of culture of all sorts I would simply love to attend the show, so if you wanna get wicked with this cranky cyclist just lemme know. I've got money to burn, since Lemmy canceled his Motorhead show.

I will be on the lookout for Tinny. In the meantime, I got a prowling puma's eye view of these chunky looking members of the marmot family (aka as woodchucks, groundhogs, or land-beavers).

There were actually 3 of them, although my other photo was even more blurry than this one was. In other suburban mildlife sightings, I spotted, in what may be considered a naturally occurring form of irony, a crow being mobbed by some smaller birds I took to be grackles. I'm pretty sure that crows often mob hawks, too, so back at ya crow. So who's eating crow now!? And what does that expression mean!? Let's go to Wicked and talk like this!? Call me!?

Urban Adventure Race! Team Wheezy!!

June 5, 2011

The days leading up to the Great Gooduckit Goring (aka Ultimate Omaha Urban Adventure Race) were filled with anticipation. I was so excited that I kept on the move, making preparations for the t-shirt design I had dreamt of for so long. I went to a micro-brewery and got the Old B as nice of a parking spot as he's probably ever had.

Soon to appear (fingers crossed!) at one of my inspirations - ecovelo.com

Then I swung by the store to get some v-necked t-shirts for our Team Wheezy uniforms. I noticed that a local restaurant was also hosting a Bike Night. Some pretty nice rides... if you're too rich and elderly to pedal your way to glory like the rest of us 2-wheelin' shmoes.

Then I met up with my teammates, Rich and Nick the night before the race. We carb-loaded and designed some sweet-ass uniforms.

The race was great!

We started off weak and ended in a consistent manner. The Wheezy way. We did receive many compliments on our t-shirts, with our individualized names inked onto the front - Sleazy, Eazy, and Cheezy.

Big hit. Until I mentioned to the all-female group of Stop, Drop and Roll (the soon-to-be penultimate finishers in front of us, in the parking garage) that each of us also had our own team-related names. After I told them our names, they chuckled uncomfortably and I tried to give them some space so they wouldn't be any more creeped out than they might be already. We were able to finish dead last, but finish we did, much to the perturbation of the toe-tapping, wrist-watch watching volunteer race staff.

Then we made it to the tail end of the New Belgium supplied after-race party.

When the keg was tapped out, a cocktail rounded out our recovery meal.

Although our gooduckit was served up Sloppy Joe style, we were able to eat it up with relish and we vowed to keep the Wheezy spirit alive for at least another few months or so.