Worst . . Movie . . . .Ever

That's right, I've got a new standard for the worst movie ever. When I say that, I mean worst movie that I've seen. I'm sure there are plenty worse, but not that I've actually been talked into watching. In order for a movie to be this bad, it has to be so bad that it's not even fun to make fun of. Anaconda was a dog, but it was a riot to laught at. Each of the movies described below have no real plot to speak of, only a general premise that never developed. The first movie to definitively set that mark for me was Hope Floats. Hope Floats had an interesting premise, but was just excruciatingly painful to watch. Then, two hours into the movie five different plot lines have emerged. And then, in one non-sensical swoop, the movie ended. No resolution to the various plot lines, just a thinly veiled attempt to cover up the fact that they had run out of time, but not figured out how to end the movie cleanly. It's not that I hate romantic comedies. I loved Notting Hill. Love, Actually is (actually) one of the films in my top 10. Next came Happy Feet. What a fuster cluck that was. I envisioned the writing process beginning with a loose idea of penguins suffering from global warming. Then came a series of non sequitirs. It feels like after the initially session where everyone got an idea of a theme, each writer then moved into a cave and wrote their part in complete isolation. The ideas were then thrown together and animated. They figured animation would cover up all sins and Global Warming was popular enough of a cause that people would over look the fact that the movie was a steaming pile of terd because it was about global warming. It's not that I don't like animated films, Shrek (only the original) was great, as was Monsters, Inc. Then came along a little romantic comedy entitled "The Wedding Date." Apparently, a big time movie exec has a penchant for spoiling his young daughter. The Wedding Date feels like it was plotted by a fourth grader and her friends who were asked to think of the perfect 'chick flick.' What if a guy dumped a girl. And what if the guy that dumped her dumped her for her sister. Oh yeah, and what if she never found out. She could find out at a wedding. . . . It was all over the place. Not even the potentially humorous parts delivered. The acting and directing were atrocious. I dare you to watch this. For me, The Wedding Date is now the worst . . . movie . . . .ever.

Welcome, Keono!

We welcomed Keono to the family on Saturday morning, March 15 at about 10:00 in the morning. She's a beatiful Sabrosa with many wonderful features. The important statics include that she's a 29er, single speed mountain bike with a custom lugged steel frame, fork, and stem. She hit the ground running and had her first ride yesterday in St. George on the Green Valley Loop with many kindred spirits.

From the rear.



And the front.



What are you going to call it?



Custom stem and spacer.


No detail overlooked - check the sweet headbadge. This one was taken inside.


Kerry provided the grips. A very nice touch.

I had built myself some really, really high expectations for this bike. Expectations I could never actually expect to be reached. This bike blew them away. Not only does it look great, but it rides like a dream. The geometry is similar to my Indy, but tweake just a little to perfection. No detail was overlooked. I know I don't deserve a friend like Jon, but I consider myself privileged that he counts me as one. There's no way of thanking for someone for something like this. Without a doubt, this bike is as cool as the rest of my bikes combined. Cool enough that I'm confident in concluding that my bike is the coolest ever.

I Hate the False Spring

I hate this hot and cold weather. I wish the weather would pick a line. I don't care what anyone says, this winter has felt longer and harsher than previous winters. It feels like we've had more days of snow and a lot of those came consecutively. Too many days were in the teens or worse. This cheers me up, a little. Kuhio Bay - I like bradda IZ's rendition. 'Akahi ho'i a 'ike ku'u maka I ka nani a'o Waiakea 'A'ohe lua e like ai Me ka nani a me ka nani A'o Kuhio Bay Mahalo a'i au i ka nani a'o Hilo Me ka ua a'e ho'opulu nei 'Oni ana Mokuola au i ke kai 'O ua 'aina 'e Kaulana nei Wai anuenue a he wai kaulana Wai maka'ika'i a ka malihini Wai kamaha'o i ka'u 'ike E papahi e ho'ope nei I ka nahele

And All The Rest

The assorted and sundry bikes in the rest of the stable include those that I don't have a deep and abiding relationship - which is to say they are the bikes that are neither titanium nor custom. These include a pair of Felts - a 2007 B2 Tri bike and a 2008 F1X Cyclocross bike. Both are light, workman-like bikes that are good looking and well-suited to their disciplines. I also have a GF Rig that has served me well in that it's helped me feel the SS vibe. I have a Colnago as well as a LeMond each of which I hope to build up soon. We'll see which one makes it to the finish first. And finally, there's my towny - a GF Monona. When Brad Keyes talks about getting your dork on, the Monona is the bike I think about. It's cheap, it's replete with appearance-be-damned accessories (like a light and fenders) and cheap parts. It's also a boat-load of fun to ride. So, with the rest of the stable now described, we await the triumphant entry of the latest addition, The Sabrosa.

Hillary

Hillary is my Swiss-Army bike - the bike that can do it all reasonably well, but not exceptionally well. I can, and have, ridden Hillary on mountain bike rides on the Ridge and on long dirt/pavement rides along the canal and through town. She's also seen more than one 'cross race. She's built with almost a mountain frame with clearance for up to 2.1's with disc brakes and drop bars. She can also be readily converted to a mountain bike as she's designed to ride properly with a Reba 29er fork. In fact, her next mission is to be ridden as a dedicated mountain bike this coming season as Jonboy trains for and rides the LT 100 on her. A big wheel geary bike should be just the ticket for Jon to get that big'un belt buckle and I'm more than happy to oblige. So the drop bars are being replaced with a flat bar and the road shifters are going to give way to bar-end shifters mounted to thumbies. Later, Hillary will make her return as a cross bike.

Maggy

Maggy is my IF Deluxe Ti mountain bike. The one I bought after I talked Ben out of buying a 29er. It's that bike. I don't want to talk about that more than I already have.

Alex

Alex is the third of my Serottas. She's a cross bike that Serotta built during one of their semi-custom bouts when you could choose the seat tube length and the top-tube length and they picked everything else. She has a matte finish and red stickers. Ultegra shifter/brake levers, Race Face Cranks, XTR Derailleurs and Red King hubs were the initial partset. Alex and I share one very painful memory that makes us comrades. It was on Alex that I suffered my most serious injury. I was living in Portland. I commuted to and from work on Alex nearly every day. At the time, I was living with B and Coxey while each of our wives stayed back in Utah to work. Health insurance was tough to come by and not something you gave up when your wife was pregnant. I was headed home from work to go on a ride with B and a couple of guys from work. I was within a few blocks when I came to an intersection that had cars backed up for blocks. It was my intent to take the bike lane to the intersection and then cross at the cross walk as a pedestrian. It was a trick I'd learned in a pamphlet from a 'bike attorney' that all the bike shops gave out. I should have taken my chances on the bike. As I neared the intersection, the light turned green. I was already committed to my plan and there was no way I was going to safely navigate three lanes of traffice to be able to make use of the turn lane, so I continued down the bike lane. I large white box delivery truck was stopped. It didn't seem too odd since trucks like that are almost always slow to get moving. As I passed the truck (while still riding in the bike lane with a green light) I realized the truck had stopped to let a pickup come across double-double yellow lines to enter the wrong way into a parking lot. I grabbed two fistfuls of brakes and threw the bike hard to avoid the truck. No luck. The old lady driving had to slow down in order to drive around the barriers intended to keep people from driving into the parking lot in the manner she was entering. The impact was incredible. I couldn't believe I could cause so much noise. The sound of my bike and then my legs hitting the bed of her truck. The shattering of glass as I put my head, arms, and half of my torso through the window in her camper shell. As I hit the ground, I laid there for a while to assess the damage. My mouth immediately felt like I'd had all of my front teeth knocked out and that they'd left the hard-way through my lower lip. I could feel my extremities. At first, it felt like the bladder in my camelback had burst from the impact. I sat up to see if I could assess the damage to my poor bike. It was lying several feet away, and I couldn't tell the extent of the damage. Then I looked to see that what I thought was water was in fact blood from massive damage to my left arm. I knew then I was going to the ER, so I laid back down and started to feel around in my bag for my cell phone. I had to let B know that I wasn't going to be making the ride. An off-duty EMT was there before I could find the phone. He immobilized me and wouldn't listen to my requests to get my phone. I even explained as rationally as I could that all he had to do was hold down number 4 and it would dial him automatically. Then I he could hold the phone up to my mouth and I could explain the situation. Meanwhile, back at the apartment B and the other joked about what was taking me so long. B even joked that maybe I got hit by a car. Moments later a large engine revved. The joke was going so well that they joked that maybe it was the truck that hit me. Moments later, (I'm told) knock came at the door and a fireman handed B my bike and told him that I had in fact been involved in a serious accident and that I was on my way to OHSU Medical Center. You see, the fire department arrived in short order. They quickly secured me to a backboard. As they were strapping me down, I asked the fire fighter nearest me - "Tell me honestly, how many teeth did I lose?" He responded, "Let's see." I opened up my mouth to show him. "Nah, you're still pretty. You didn't lose any" he answered back. I then pleaded with him to take care of Alex. I made him promise. I made him give me his name. He came through. I didn't do any more road riding for the rest of that year, the best I can remember. The fork was bent, the front wheel trashed, headset, shifters, bar - the whole front end was toast. But the frame was still straight. So I rebuilt her with new parts and she soldiers on. Several years and four 'cross seasons later and Alex is still going. Surviving the 'cross campaigns for that long would be enough to establish comradry, but surviving a car crash puts Alex in another league of tough.

Bessy

Bessy is my second oldest bike. She's actually not completely built right now, but I'm working on it. Bessy is a Serotta CHT that was built to Fisher Genesis Geometry. She started out with a White Brothers SC80, King wheels, XTR, and Sugino Cranks. The WB fork lasted exactly one ride and I switched to the bomber. Over time, Bessy took a back seat as Maggy became the A-Bike. I converted Bessy to a rigid single, but only rode her like that once. A rig has taken over single speed duties, which in turn will be permanently replaced by the Sabrosa (to be known as Ke Ono). So now, Bessy sits in limbo. But I have too many fond memories with her to put her away. Those were the days when I had ample time to ride. The Golden Days of discovery with Racer, Red and the man formerly known as Keller. Back before Racer got fast on the descent. Exploring unknown trails up Nebo Canyon with Stu and Brent. Grinning rides down South Fork with Jared and Stef. Good times. That's why I keep Bessy. One of these days I'll get around to putting rear wheel on and taking her back out, right?

The Stable

Recently on the family blog I did a series of posts about my kids. I thought it only fitting that I do something similar with my stable of bikes. So, this is the first installment of my bike collection. My end game is to drag this out until I pick up my bike from Jon. I'm going to start from the oldest and make my way to the newest. The bike I've owned the longest is my Serotta road bike - a Legend Ti. I call her Samantha. I picked up Samantha when road bikes came standard with 1" threaded steerers. She originally came with a finish that was half painted in midnight blue and half polished. I picked up a Shimano 9 speed Dura Ace group with 39/53 and 12/25 setup. The fork is an old Serotta F1 with a steel steerer tube, carbon blades, and titanium dropouts. I picked up one of Chris King's first road spaced hubs. Almost on a dare with Jared Hill I picked up a threadless headset and 1" Serotta titanium stem. The bike remained with this setup until I finished school. My new found weight made climbing a real challenge with even a 39/27 gear, so I put a compact double on. I resisted ten speed for years until every new bike started coming with 10. I then put Force on it. I'm not the biggest fan of the Force, but it is what it is. The Force and the compact double haven't changed the way the bike handles. It still handles like it's locked on rails and is the standard by which I measure every road bike. My favorite ride on that bike is the Alpine Loop. I really like the descent from the Pine Hollow over look down and live for the stretch from the turn off to Tibble Fork to the mouth of the Canyon. Whenever I think about flowing down that road, with trees and the stream, it brings a smile to my face. Many of you will know which part I'm talking about and will have carved that same stretch of road with me. I can't wait for spring.

Building Wheels is Like Riding a Bike

This post is another nod to Greg Reiche as well as a nod to JJ. It's these two, and JJ in particular, that taught me how to build wheels. Greg is a purist and taught me several little things that I hold onto. These little details include lacing the wheel so that the sticker is read from the drive side, positioning the hub such that looking through the hole you can read the writing on the hub (if any), and that the stickers on the hub can be read from the behind. Little things, sure, but they've stuck with me. JJ taught me how a well built wheel should feel. The beauty of inside pulling spokes. How to seat the spokes. Drop, lace, and tension. That's all there is to it, right? But there's something fulfilling about taking a pile of spokes, an empty hoop, and a hub and building a (hopefully) strong wheel. I don't build wheels that often these days, but I can still knock one out in about an hour. Last night I laced up my new King SS Hubs - mmmm, shiny - to some Bontrager Mustang 29er rims. 32H, 3X, inside pulling. They're sure going to look good on that Sabrosa. After all, a hand-built bike deserves nothing less than hand-built wheels.

What I Have Resolved to Do

So here is a semi-public list of what I hope to accomplish this year. I've omitted specifics of parenting and spousery (is that a word) because those are things I try to work on constantly and can't really check off until I check out. So, here they are in no particular order. 1. Get ahead and stay ahead on hours at work. I hope to take the week between Christmas and New Years off next year. This will also make the next resolution easier. 2. Finish Ironman Arizona. This is a big one. The racing schedule is secondary to IMAZ, and includes AF Icebreaker, Lehi Legacy Tri, Ironman 70.3 Honu, Provo Tri, perhaps Battle at Midway, definitely the Spudman, the Provo Half, and then IMAZ in November. 3. In addition to 1) above, in order to do this I'm going to need to lose a significant amount of weight. Get to a truly reasonable and healthy weight. I need to lose about 30 pounds to be on the top end of healthy and need to lose something like 40 pounds to put me in the middle of the fit range. 4. Read, understand, and put into practice the major techniques found in "The New Joy of Cooking." This is my attempt at a self-taught cooking course. This book has a lot of classic recipes and techniques. 5. Spend as many weekends as possible this summer camping with my kids in the mountains. Tent camping, dutch oven cooking, and hiking are what we're looking for. Lilia is starting to take an interest in electronic entertainment and I'd like to balance that out. 6. Ride with Jon in St. George. 7. Catch at least one ocean going salmonid - be it a steelhead or a salmon.

Reality Check

Warning - unusually somber post. Today was supposed to be a normal day. A day in which I spent the vast majority of my time drafting patent applications. It didn't go like that. Instead, as I checked my email on my leash (others call them Blackberry) on my way from the parking garage, I saw a string of emails. Jason Coles, a buddy from law school, was killed in a skiing accident. It's not so much that Jason and I were friends as much as we were friendly to each other and have close friends in common. He married a woman from our law school class and together they recently had a baby. It brought home the fragile nature of things. And brought me to the reality that my tonight would be better spent with my loved ones.

La Sabrosa Mas Linda

My Sabrosa is raging forward. Hand-built and lug-a-licious. And so does my part selection. I've settled on virtually all the parts list - which is as follows. Frame - Sabrosa Hand-Built, lugged Chromoly, single speed specific Fork - Sabrosa Hand-Built, lugged Chromoly, non-suspension corrected Stem - Sabrosa Hand-Built, lugged Chromoly All painted Sabrosa orange with blue lug outlining and detail fill Headset - King 1 1/8 ahead, Silver Wheels - King Classic SS, Silver, Bonti Mustang 32h, DT 1.8 Straight Crankset - Bonti Race SS, 32T Brakeset - Avid SL linear pull, silver Cog - 22T Surly Chain - SRAM PC-1 Tires - Maxxis CrossMark 29er Seatpost - Thomson 27.2, silver Seat - Bonti Race Pedals - Crank Bros., either Candy C's or Acid 2's Handlebar - Salsa Flat, 31.8.

Put the knife down, and step away.

The fear described in the last post about Arizona shocked me back into obsessing about bikes again. Or maybe it was a call from JonBoy. Yeah, it was the call from JonBoy. He'd mitered up the main triangle and was asking me to make some final decisions. Decisions he wanted me to make because it is my bike. Which brings me to my point. I'd written several long-winded pieces about how I try to value my friends and other wandering thoughts. I chose to write this instead. I've got a stable of absolutely first rate bikes - custom titanium or carbon being the predominant theme. A stable I've spent years collecting. Jon is building a bike for me, by hand and without personal gain . He's spent hours on minor details that he could have easily left out. Without a doubt, this will be the bike I value most. It's tough to know how to thank Jon for something so overwhelming. "Thanks, Jon" just doesn't seem to even begin to express it. But I'll start with that, anyway. Thanks, Jon. It means a lot. PQRS (a nod to Jon), you can follow the progress at www.sabrosacycles.com

Wherein I Completely Lose My Mind

The other day the IT guy here, who just so happens to be one of my more consistent racing buddies, stopped by. He told me about a second Ironman Arizona race. It's a 'second' race because the 'first' race is usually held in April and the second race is being held in November. From now on, the race will be held in November, but for this year only there will be two races. It satisfied the criteria I had been looking for in an Ironman race better than the Florida races had. It's late in the year, so I'll have plenty of time to kill myself at work in the first part of the year so that I can slow up and have a little more time to train. It's close to a major airport that is easily accessible from Salt Lake, so air fare won't be ridiculous. It's geographically close, so the travel time will be low. There was only one thing left - who was I going to race with. The IT flat told me no. I called Mahana and he said he and Kalei would talk about. They called me back to tell me that they - three of the four members of Racer's Cycle Service Tri Team (Karl Jarvis being the other) had already signed up. So, without really thinking of the ramifications, I signed up. I figured I've already done three 1/2 Iron distances and a number of shorter races. Put another way, I've done enough races that I don't consider myself a newbie anymore. Then it started to hit me. The panic that is the open water swim. I always panic, it's just a question of 1) how severely and 2) how long it takes before I can get it to a manageable level. I always freak out because I can't see where I'm going. Add to that any number of people kicking and hitting you. With all that going on, I often forget to breathe correctly, my form goes to crap, and I start feeling like I'm suffocating. Then I think about quitting. Then I think about labelling myself a quitter. Then I put my head back in the soup, find a sustainable pace, and start playing fractional mind games with myself with a diaglogue. E.g. - That second buoy looks like it's about 2/3 of the way around the course. I'm 1/2 way to it, so 1/3 of the way around the course. It's a two-lapper, so 1/6 of the way done. Crap. 1/6 of 1900 is about 325. I've only been 325 meters? Crap. I'd better site again. It doesn't look like I'm any closer. Crap. Is this ever going to end? Roll. Site. . . . ." A recurring theme I have while I'm repeating the above process includes wondering why I signed up for that stupid race anyway. I can only imagine what 1:20 of that is going to be like, and that's if I'm lucky. That could easily drag itself into 1:30 or even 1:40. Then there's the bike. That doesn't really concern me. In fact, this would be a great reason to start a collection of bib and non-bib style Assos shorts. I'll let you know how those work out for me. No number of new shoes or training equipment can get me excited about running a marathon. And let's face it, I don't actually plan on running a marathon, I plan on running until I hit the proverbial wall and then walking. Hopefully, I don't end up doing that leg of the triathlon Andy Bernard style. All of these things were distant enough, until I thought of something realistic. I love to eat. I need to lose weight. That has to start now, which means I need to up my motivation to lose weight now. Once I start training for Hawai'i, weight loss will slow to a crawl. I've got three months to lose weight. Which means I need to start now. I really felt like steak tonight, may with a pepper-cream sauce. I guess it'll be grilled chicken and veggies instead. What have I gotten myself into? Another concern has popped up. Can I still say that I do triathlons, I'm not a triathlete if I've taken on the whole meal deal? I sure hope so.

Knives

For some reason, cyclocross just didn't have the appeal for me this year that is has in years past. Even a G-Whiz new cyclocross bike couldn't get me excited for my traditional late-fall suffer fest. DR and I got out several times on the mountain bike for extra-innings rides, which were fun. But then it got wet and I didn't get around to trading my MTBs for my CX bikes. Instead, I have turned to knives. Kitchen cutlery, actually. My perseverations have focused on everything to do with razor sharp edges. From Forschner to Shun to Wusthof to Henckels to Global and back to Shun. The round trip also picked up some sharpening implements along the way. I finally settled on primarily Henckels for my wife and general use because they take a reasonably sharp edge and hold the edge reasonably well. I also settled on Shun for me because, well, because AB said so. That's not the only reason - it's just that his advertising was most compelling. Much like his scientific approach to cooking makes sense to me, his geometry/Rockwell hardness argument also made sense. So, Shun Classics it is. Now to move on to another perseveration. Hopefully this one will take me back to something fitness related. Knives are good for cooking. Cooking is good for eating. Eating is good for gaining weight.

How Old Am I?

In high school, I took things too seriously. I can admit that. I thought the entire trajectory of my life depended on the smallest things. Because of that, my classmates frequently did things to me for their amusement. A favorite was to call me "The Fat Hawaiian." It bothered me. One of the main reasons people did it was because it bothered me and they took joy in watching me get worked up. Calling out taunts during sporting events was another group's favorite pastime. All of those people knew how to push my buttons and did so at my expense for their amusement. Why wouldn't they? We were in high school and that's what juveniles do. That was then. At my 10 year high school reunion, several people mentioned to me how mellow I was compared to when I was in high school. I realize now it was because in large part I am more selective about who I choose to spend my time with. My philosophy about what it means to be a friend can be illustrated nicely with the analogy of a group ride. You have competitive group rides and friendly group rides. Both have their places and the competitive group rides are more like the business world. Everyone is in it for they and theirs and all strategems are employed to 'win.' And then there's the friendly group rides. The rides we choose to go on. These are rides where we all have fun together on a ride. We all move faster by working together. When I'm feeling good, I take a turn. When I'm not, I sit in. And so it goes. My friends are the people I choose to spend time and effort to maintain relationships. So with friends, I'll take my pull when it's my turn. I'll take long pulls and will pull as often as needed. But I expect that my friends will take their turn when the time comes. I don't have the patience to take pulls for people only sit in or for whom I am merely a source of amusement. This is now.

Conversion and Reactivation

Last year, I started racing triathlons with an eye toward the Honu Half Ironman on the Big Island in June. I decided to do the California Half in March as a warmup for Hawai'i. I peaked for California and was completely burned out by the time Honu came around. I decided to switch to mountain biking when I got home from Hawai'i, especially since I thought I'd neglected it too much while training for triathlon. My first ride back, I high-sided into a tree on Joy while trying to race down after a sudden down pour. The crash ended my fitness for the year and I still haven't lost the weight I gained last summer or the fitness either. I basically gave up on mountain biking. This spring, my nephew Alika got back from his mission. When my brother was in the market for a bike for Alika's mission, I made sure we got him a bike that he could ride later as a 29er mountain bike. When Alika came up for school a few weeks ago, I set him up with a suspension fork and some knobby tires and we went out to ride. Since he's been back, I've taken him on Tibble Fork, Timpanooke (several times), South Fork, and Lambert Park. Each time I'm drawing him in deeper and deeper. Last night we had dinner together. We talked about how he really felt pressed for time between work and school. Then he asked me what time we were riding Saturday morning. I thought to myself, "It looks like we have a convert." And I realized, in converting him I've been reactivated as a mountain biker. So now it's time to spend some time practicing what we preach. Benny Creek anyone?

Derby, Baby! Derby

One of my favorite things from the Gourmet/Frank Days was derbying. Derbying is a game in which you attempt to force your fellow participants to dab - put a foot down. You could make a person dab by either cutting off their path and forcing them to stop in such a way that they can't pedal out of it or you could simply knock them off their bike. The basic rules were very simple. Hands were to remain on the handle bars and feet were to remain on the pedals. This rule added some measure of order to the chaos by capping the potential for violence to the dull impacts of a head butt or a shoulder shiver. Many a day did the shop employees and the lunch crowd pull a bike to begin the derbying. Everyone had their own style that was bracketed between two extremes. Jerome, JJ, and JonBoy were each masters of the finesse technique. Each of them were able to stop for extended periods of time and to shimmy the bike into position using trials techniques. I was on the far end, with initially only limited bike handling skills. I relied on the bull technique by which I would simply ride the smaller cyclists into barriers or knock them off their bikes. As I recall, Dug was a combination of speed and power with impeccable timing. When pushed into tight spot, Dug would pedal furiously out of it and hope for the hole shot at the corner. He also used this speed to knock one or both riders who were engaged in a pushing match. If you think derby sounds silly, you haven't tried it or else you just don't like riding. Maybe that's going to far. Since I hope this is something of a family forum, if you've derbied, share your best derby story.

Coming Clean

I'm coming clean with an experience which brings shame and self-loathing everytime I tell it, or worse, everytime Ben tells it. And no, it doesn't involve the Internet, a late night trip to a seedy convenience store, or buying a Cannondale. It's all about the Big Wheels. I talked Benson out of buying a 29er when he blew the load (of money) he'd been saving up all summer. He was in Boston doing an internship during law school and had the means to build up a dream bike. What's more, since he was in Boston, he had the rare experience (for us western dwellers) to follow the process of having a hand-built titanium mountain bike frame built by one of the acknowledged leaders in the craft, Independent Fabrication. It also didn't hurt that they're one of the coolest group of people around. So there's the short version, which also serves as a handy intro. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm becoming more of a foody every day. I love to cook and I love to eat good food. I've learned over the years that when you go to a restaurant, one of the best ways to get the most out of the situation is to trust the server, assuming you can determine whether the server is serious. If the server is serious about his job, he'll know the menu inside and out and will have tried everything. I'm not sure how to explain whether you know when you can trust the server, but you just know. It's like when I send people down to Racer. Everybody, from people who didn't know that adult bikes come in more than one size all the way to the guy who just dropped $1,000 or so on wheels to save 75g just seem to sense that Racer knows his stuff and that they should probably follow his advise. I almost always fall into this category as well. Except for when 29ers came out. I assumed I knew it all. I should have known that people who do nothing but build bikes for a living would have known what they were talking about. I'm talking about Matt Bracken, President and frame designer over there at IF. Racer was riding a 29er and said it was the best thing ever. "They roll over everything" he would say. Matty B suggested that Ben get a 29er. I talked Ben out of it. And here's how I did it. I was riding my Serotta custom Ti hard tail that I'd ridden for several years. I figured I didn't have any trouble going down hill, but the extra weight and bigger wheel size would make it that much harder to go up hill. I found myself begging the granny gear with some frequency and figured the last thing I wanted to do is effectively give up a gear on the lower end. I also discussed the likelihood of slow steering. Add to that the argument that the 29er thing was probably just a fad, and Ben was convinced. He went with the 26er. When he came out to ride it, the 26er wasn't ready so Racer let him ride a 29er demo Racer had. As I would later find out, Ben knew immediately that he'd made a huge mistake, but he masked it because he knew how bad I'd feel. Ben's a better man than I am. I admit it. Then he didn't say anything but how sweet his IF was once he got it. If the story ended there, it'd be fine. We'd both be on 26ers. Ben would know better, but I would have remained in blissful ignorance. I continued to tell the growing number of my friends who used 29ers that they were idiots. Until Devin let me ride his 29er Curtlo on the second loop at Lambert Park. I immediately came to the same realization Ben did. I simply had to have a 29er. If I was going to replace the Serotta, which I affectionately refer to as "Bessy", it'd have to be with something as good, but with big wheels. I got the go ahead from Racer and set us up as an IF dealer. I then proceeded to order myself up a 29er Ti Deluxe. It's everything I hoped it'd be. On my first ride with Jon Boy and the rest of the Family, it felt like I'd been riding it for years. There simply was no break in period where I had to build my confidence. It went faster from the get-go. "Point and shoot" I started calling its ride quality. And Ben languished on with his beautiful, but cheerio-wheeled, ti IF. Since he got back, Ben picked up a Felt 29er. While he's not riding his little brother's bike anymore, and while his Felt is a very able bike, it's just not an IF Ti. Until he gets one, my shame will persist. So there it is, in all its ugliness. I ruined Ben's once in a lifetime dream bike experience by talking him out of the 29er and then proceeded to buy exactly the same thing myself. Usually, coming clean makes you feel better. For some reason, the guilt persists. Sorry, Ben.