Category: Events

Drunk Benny says I must write. Drunk Benny says I must start my post off with a photo of this guy. Hey, I don’t make the rules…. So here he is.

Tony Brown apparently, according to Benny, is a Legend. Tony Brown, according to Wikipedia was the agriculture minister for the Isle of White(sic), or some shit. Anyhoo.

I was going to talk about my last outing in the short course of the winter series last weekend and all, but you can learn about that over here if you want to (and other cutting edge things such as new fashion trends). However, the more I thought about the idea more it just seemed lazy. So then I got thinking about legends (Thanks Drunk Benny!!). If  Benny gets Tony Brown  then I would like to introduce you all to someone whom, the more I think about it, qualifies as a legend. Someone whom, whilst very new to our fair sport (art) fairly glows incandescently with his love for the two wheeled, rigid, and single. The man has gumption and determination in spades.

Everyone, Say hi to my Dad. Keith.

Some background: Now, brother K up top here decided to re enter the bicycling world after some 17 years off. Tipping the scales at well over a metric 100, 60 years old and with little to no experience riding off road. That was back in April. Dad rode with me twice down here at Whakarewarewa before deciding to enter all three of the long course Enduros for the ’09 season with a voucher he scored by winning the 20km SS cat at the Highlander (I highly recommend the long course. Well worth the trip over) on only his second time off road on an SS !!( A hoopty ass, ghetto home job, which he totalled on Billy T). Long story short it’s now July and he’s two races into the series. The fitness increase and weight loss has been sustained and impressive. Every time the man goes out on into the forest astride  his new ride,”Penny” (29er, SS, rigid) I’m sure he gets a year younger, several degrees calmer,confident and more humble. He’s bullheadedly gone out (again with little to no off road chops) and done both the long course enduros so far and is all hyped with a view to the third one, 50km of single track at Whakarewarewa in August. It’s an amazing (and reassuring) sight to see him come over the finish line and have him tell you, with a slightly glazed expression that he fell off (which he does a bit of) and landed on his Gels 5km in exploding the bottle that they were in thus forcing him to either lick his thighs or go without. It’s stunning, that this quiet, methodical and historically risk averse man will now calmly explain over dinner “I thought to myself when I came off, Ah, I’m on my head again. I knew that because my feet were above me, in the air”, smile and then keep eating. I guess why I’m around to thinking that my Dad is a legend is he’s just getting out there and doing it, sure, it nearly kills him and he hasn’t been DFL but he’s been close, but it doesn’t matter to him in the slightest. It’s a million miles away from my experience of late (worrying about not training enough, not this not that etc etc) and as loath as I am to say it, I could learn something from his “just get out there and do it” attitude. It’s still nerve wracking riding events with him, as I’m in front a bunch going “ah, will he pull that off?will this hurt him? Have I killed my Dad?”. But you know what? he’s made it through every time.

Thanks to his love of bikes Dad’s life has (more than likely) been lengthened and the quality vastly improved. It’s given us something of interest in common (no mean feat) and strenghtened our at times distant relationship. It’s a great thing.  To paraphrase Steve Smith, my Dad can ride a bike pretty well, but is slow. However I’d rather spend three hours in the woods with him, tooling around and learning about stuff (like how to enjoy riding a bike again) and talking, than I would “Getting rad” or knocking out hot laps by my self on some endless hampster wheel training ride. So, here’s to my Dad and his legendary (and at times quixotic) pursuit of the SS dream. Ride on, old boy! Ride on.

A one-night-only exhibition this Saturday, featuring a few BnC heads. Get along, ya muppets!

Ides Of March was run and won. For anyone out of the state, or stuck in a bomb shelter, the day was as wet as a fallout boy mosh pit. I chucked a few hours in at work and then headed home to grab something waterproof and a mudguard, ’cause it was looking ominous over the mountain.  Three minutes after getting through the front door, all hell let loose and shit got wild. I could barely see the hill opposite our house and it sounded like a washing machine was having a feeding frenzy. Nothing to do but suck it up, I hit the road and filled by boots with water. As usual, my lack of organisation meant I was running around at the last minute, and soaking up a fair shitload of water. Either way, perfect weather for a race.

A good number of people decided not to be soft and useless and actually make a showing. The idea of these things is rain, hail or shine, and we got mostly rain. That’s half the fun though, right? Once you’re wet, you ain’t gonna dry fast anyway, so you may as well make the most of it. What’s better than a wet day, huddled over your bike, wiping grime out of your eyes, and busting massive skids through the middle of the city? Not much I reckon. A carton of beer helped keep things social, and everyone rode off into the weather while I kicked around scowling at strangers in the park. Not long afterwards Hunnibel turned up again, understandably taking out a swift win over all the other kids on mountain bikes. Would have been a bit embarassing if he’d come anything other than first, and I’ve got a feeling it may be an oft-repeated result until someone pulls their finger out and gives him some decent competition.  Ross rolled up second, putting in a good time but a stuffed up checkpoint answer meant he had to turn around and high-tail it back. It should be recorded that he did a damn fine effort and I was probably a cunt for sending him back out, but them’s the breaks!

Josh gave up after three checkpoints, when his manifest imploded and the leopard print panties wrapped around his head got a little moist. Funnily enough, he made it as far as the Brisbane before deciding to turn back. Seems that welding goggles weren’t the ideal eyewear after he ran bike-first into a chain strung between a couple of bollards. Safety, what?

Leroy took out DFL, anyone surprised? Ha!

As was completely appropriate, the night ended with heaps of beer before everyone else fucked off home and I was forced to destroy the Brisbane dance floor with a bunch of strangers, to the tune of Wating Room and Sabotage. Worse ways to do it.

Massive thanks to all the crew who grew some balls and got amongst it. This one was nasty, the next promises to be a hell of a lot better, and a hell of a lot worse. Start training now, ’cause we’re gonna make you hurt (in good ways). Cheers also to Knog who kept it real with sweet prizes, and Healthy Transport Hobart for throwing some good stuff in as well.

If anyone has any photos, send ’em through.

See you out there.

Download a print res poster, print it out and go vandalise your neighbourhood.

Ride anything, bring a friend. Followed by beer. Probably preceeded by beer as well.

Now with added KNOG goodness! Less fat, more vitamins. Guaranteed to attract the opposite sex (or the same sex, results may vary).

Entries for the ’09 Tahune MTB Marathon close tomorrow, so get your shit sorted! As is the usual BnC style, I’ll be doing the half-arsed effort of 50km. I also need a lift down from Hobart (just me, bike’s going separately), so if you’ve got a spare seat help a brother out! Get involved and join a bunch of bike nuts riding through some damn nice scenery (and some nasty forestry area, but you can’t win ’em all).

Do it!

Now, order a Jersey below.