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This time of year the various cycling magazines get really dull. Sure you have La Vuelta and the World Championships and the Giro d'Lombardia, but for all intents and purposes, the cycling season is done. With the magazines lacking interesting events to cover, were left reading about crap like cyclo cross and the domain of the dope smokers - mountain biking. Thank God for football, elections and hurricanes. Speaking of, I've heard from various folk that we are entering Mountain Biking season - god help us - or margarita and milkshake season - things which I associate with hairy legs, dreadlocks and reefer or in the case of margaritas, the 5th of May or trips to Mexico with the Lovely Kathy in February. I could never understand why anyone would want to foul good tequila with sugary lime flavored syrup, but that's just me. In my mind autumn is about football, pumpkin pie, apple fritters and brown booze. I'm jealous of Rev Billy. Recently he moved across the Ohio River from Hooterville to the Bourbon Capital of the world. Billy says his move is to be with a woman but I know better. He wanted to be closer to oak barrels full of mellowing mash. Since gathering up over many tortured years, the courage to overcome a fear of whiskey -a fear brought on by a traumatic experience that caused me to miss the second half of a Bruce Springsteen concert during my sophomore year of High School - I have learned to appreciate a good smoky-sweet and mellow bourbon. That said, I still get queasy when I catch a whiff of that putrid Tennessee sour mash and hear The Boss belt out Streets of Fire. I blame my brother who should have known better but didn't step in to help. I digress. You're not in the feed zone to hear about my drinking habits. Bike racing. I'm going to be riding for a new team next season. I've been offered millions of dollars, a custom home and all the kitchen and bathroom fixtures I want to join the Estridge Homes/Delta Faucet team next season. They're fine group of gentlemen - at least those I've met - and I look forward to racing with them next year. Turin has been very good to me for the past 4 years. I thank them. Racing with a Hooterville based team will present a new set of challenges. The chief challenge I see will be trying to figure out why everyone in Indiana outside of South Bend speaks with a southern accent. I guess it isn't hard to figure out when you're south of Bloomington, like Evansville or French Lick, but why the southern accent in Muncie and Fart Wayne? Mysterious. Billy says it's because everyone in Hooterville hails at least indirectly from Western Kentucky. I note that the good Reverend, though reared on Long Island now sounds more like Mr. Haney from Green Acres than an Eastern Aristocrat. It's a powerful influence. Druber expects at very least that by May, he'll be using phrases like "not never" and "don't got no" in his speech. It's inevitable. The second challenge I'll face next season is more literary in nature. I figure that since I'll be in Hooterville more, I won't have as much material since my friends the sMACKs will be in Wisconsin and Illinois. From what I've seen, there isn't really a team in Hooterville that presents as easy of a target. We'll see. Team names present an issue. I've heard Heroes, Flamers, Road kills, Rodents, Huns, Hand Jobs, etc. I don't know who these people are. This is going to be a steep learning curve. I've been working on a few, like Crystal Lights or Fernwood Flashers for those of you who remember "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman" and Turdles but I don't know if they'll stick. Anyway, this is an issue that will be dealt with when the stream of consciousness flows more freely in that direction. For now I'm fascinated with hurricanes. More specifically, I'm eager to learn how the recent spate of hurricanes that have battered the Caribbean and all sides of Florida will be tied to George W. Bush and the Republican Party. I'm all but positive that it has something to do with the current Black Hearts that occupy the Oval Office; I'm just waiting for Dan Rather and MoveOn.org to tell me what the link is. I'm sure there is a memo floating around somewhere that shows W or Cheney ordered cloud seeding off the coast of Africa to spawn hurricanes in an effort to keep minorities and old people in Florida from voting in November. It's pure evil. I'm also fascinated with human nature when confronted with the devastating forces of Mother Nature. Several people who died in Jamaica when Ivan struck died because they stayed in their homes to protect their stuff from looters. They got blown away along with their homes, which held their stuff. Nothing left to loot. Gone. At what point does your stuff become more valuable than your life? Druber did two bike races in Mooresville last Sunday. In the first one, the TX Roadhouse gang banged the field and took the top 4 spots. At one point two Roadies and two Turdles were up the road. Druber bridged. Druber's new teammate Darin (nickname TBD) bridged a lap later. Aside from the two in the break the Roadies had at least 18 riders back in the field. Up to that point the break was cohesive and actually out of sight of the field. When Darin got to the break the Roadies cowered and wailed like a couple of 4 year olds who'd had a sticker book taken away. The Turdles flat stopped pedaling their bikes, got off and went home. Being new to Hooterville racing, Druber wasn't sure what was up with the race dynamics. Turns out they were in fear of Darin's finishing speed and would rather be pack fill than lose from a break. The Roadies guessed right and brought the break back. On bell lap Druber did a furious, futile last gasp chase of two Roadies that had escaped the field. The chase served only as a lead-out for the Top Roadie and one of his minions. Roadies took places 1-4. It was an emphatic kick in the groin. Darin got 5th. Druber was embarrassed and apologetic to his new teammates for the flail. Halfway through the old guy race Druber's chain bound up and was popping every 5th pedal stroke. Between races, the chain was jimmied and it seemed to be fixed. I say seemed because like a blind hog finds a tuffle Druber found himself in an 8 rider break in the Pro, 1,2 race. Shortly afterward, Druber's chain began to pop again. Seems the manufacturers are serious about the new 10 speed chains needing to be replaced every 1500 miles. Druber forged on with the popping chain and the break was within sight of lapping the field with 2 laps to go. The boys started fighting about who was going to tow who to the line. Druber cannot stand conflict, so he attacked to get away before things turned violent. Lo and behold he stayed away, poppy chain and all, for the V. After the race Druber's bubble was burst by the 2nd place finisher from the Dookies who informed him that the only reason his attack was not brought back immediately is that the other riders figured Druber's bike would explode before he made it to the finish line. Hey, Druber knows full well it's better to be lucky than good on most days. My beloved Fighting Illini have become the laughingstock of college Football. Just 3 short seasons ago, they finished 10-1 having beaten Ohio State, Wisconsin and those loathsome skunks from Michigan to win the Big 10 title and earn a trip to the BCS Sugar Bowl. The team spent too much time on Bourbon Street and got thrashed by LSU. Since then the team has yet to beat a Division 1-A team. The Lovely Kathy and I spent a gorgeous fall afternoon in Memorial Stadium with a half dozen others (fan support is waning) from around the state to watch the Illini players embarrass themselves and their parents, getting destroyed by UCLA 35-17. After the game we drank heavily to feel better about the time and money we'd wasted in watching the game. Later on we went to a volleyball game. The Illini women ranked 16th in the nation were playing top ranked USC; winner of 52 consecutive matches and 2 NCAA titles. The lovely Kathy is a pure volleyball fan. I love volleyball too, but for wholly impure reasons. I admire athletic, long legged women. Did anyone else witness the Gold Medal winning celebration of Misty May and Kerri Walsh? I've just recently gotten over the blindness it caused. Anyway, I'd been a fan of volleyball long before that beautiful display of athletic eroticism, but I became a much bigger fan afterward. So, the Illini women pulled off the upset in perhaps the finest, most raucous volleyball match I've ever witnessed. This doesn't have anything to do with bicycling other than the fact that if the Illini setter, Erin Virtue ever decided to become a sun dialer, she'd become a world Champion in two years. Does any one other than me find it preposterous that we are 6 weeks from voting for men who aim to fill the most powerful office in the world (besides commissioner of baseball) and the national press along with the campaigns are fixated on proving or disproving whether either of the two main choices the country is given via the ridiculously spread out and faulty primary election process, served honorably or dishonorably in a war that the entire nation detested thirty five years ago? One candidate perpetually beats a dead horse claiming that the world is a safer place as car bombs explode every day, hundreds of innocents are dying weekly and people seem to be buying it. Meanwhile, the other candidate seems completely incapable of keeping an audience awake, much less making a definitive statement on policy or direction - other than he's pretty sure, at least last time he checked, that he's 90% certain that his name isn't George W Bush, which seems to be good enough for at least 35% of his base according to the latest polls. In the midst of it all, the former president and his wife keep getting inserted into the fray. One side says the current president lied and they're outraged. The other side asks, "Where was the outrage when the former president lied?" Hell, I'm not outraged when politicians lie. It's in their nature. It's like breathing to them. I'm not outraged that the former president was getting a Hinkleman in his office while he was negotiating peace with Arafat. I'm outraged that innocents are dying while some one tells me the world is a safer place because a powerless megalomaniac is sitting in a cell. I'm outraged that the former president lied to his wife about the Hinkleman. Lie to the county for Chrissakes but don't lie to your wife! Shit, she might be president one day and where does that leave you? I'm getting nauseous writing this and thinking about changing my name to Jeffrey Lebowski and adopting his lifestyle. Sometimes I think it must be easier to simply abide. Druber is going to do one more event before the bicycle racing season officially draws to a close. More than likely he'll attempt to break the long-standing course record for the 40k TT course in Garden Prairie, IL. I'll let you know how it goes. Until then, Druber abides…
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