Appholes

"When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you." - Lao Tzu

 Lao Tzu, with confirmation that even ancient dick-measurers were scorned. I'm not sure that modern day scorn is as prevalent though because of the narcissistic hordes who are attempting to normalize this type of behavior. The abusers of digital applications who are concerned merely with measuring and have little to no regard for the trails and other trail users where they perpetrate their foul misdeeds are a problem and have been since the birth of those platforms.

 When the first app arrived and I was made aware of it, red flags immediately entered my thoughts. I had hoped that most would use it to track *their own* progress, but knew the measurers would emerge and do their worst to destroy trail surfaces and the public image of cyclists on singletrack trails. It wasn't too difficult to be prophetic and the predicted results mushroomed rapidly. I swore to never participate and denigrated both it and the trail abusing measurers whenever provided with the opportunity to do so.

 I kept doing my thing and was mindful of avoiding both the trails that the measurers frequented and/or times of day they were committing their selfish crimes against public lands. This worked most of the time, but at one particular trail system I frequented to shake down new builds, dust off Winter cobwebs, or show friends a thing or two about handling a bicycle in the dirt, the Philistines seemed to be omnipresent. These cretins began acting curiously with various transgressions, such as cutting in front of me at trail intersections, *trying* to ride my wheel and throwing shade in all kinds of kooky manners. It was as if I were an invading force and they brought it to the point where I felt that if that's what they wanted, well then I'll give it to them.

 After one day on the aforementioned trail system that had a most egregious transgression occur, I went home and signed up for the app I knew these fuckers were jerking off to. The basic ins and outs of it were studied briefly and like a coiled rattler, I waited. Not too long afterwards, the time had arrived when there was nobody else there and the conditions were just about perfect. My deevice got turned on, the app started and I just did my regular thing. The end result was not very surprising, though I knew I had a few sessions in this place where my speeds went well beyond what was recorded that day. The Mic Drop was in order and Fuck You, Appholes completed. That was about six or seven years ago now and I may have peeped those results four or five times out of curiousity.

 It's become quite easy to tell when a new trail system becomes under attack by a legion of appholes. The amount of abuse can almost be shocking, as trails that have not had time to get compacted from responsible use are much more sensitive. The skid ruts, off-trail tracks, widening, corner-cutting, braiding, and lines of inexperience being set that would be inherently slow on mature trails that appholes create in their quest for the egotistic rewards of being marked by the app as some Homeric deed is inherently ridiculous to anyone with an IQ above room temperature. Give those narcissistic types a heavy motorized vehicle that the "industry" is now selling with which to feed their fragile egos and this is compounding the threat to our public lands. Yes, *our* public lands and when the selfish feel that because they are part of *our*, they can do whatever they wish, even outside of laws and etiquette. They are commiting crimes against everyone in the communities they thrash upon.

 I did peep the app once in the past year to confirm apphole complicity in a wave of abuse on a few newer trail systems I'm familiar with. The abusers seem to be using pseudonyms or incomlete profile information, as if they are in fact knowingly fucking shit up and do not wish to be held responsible for illegal activities such as damaging public property or poaching yet to be opened trails under construction. This is how chickenshits roll, unless the definition of chickenshit has changed to suit fragile egotists. The notion of getting back on the app to tell these inhumans that they truly suck crossed my mind, but only for about a second. This may bring about something else they may desire, such as recognition or validity, but they deserve neither and that took a whole second, followed by a hearty laugh. They already know they suck, but just don't have the mental capacity, integrity, or honesty to admit it, which is the root of apphole Modus Operandi.

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate

Spotlighting

 

 The way the various forms of media influence the masses to worship those who may hold certain celebrity status in any realm creates a myriad of woes (and "Whoah!"s). The gushing, fawning, peeping, creeping, stalking, drooling foolishness takes all types of forms, from just a stupid comment, to homicidal acts. I have been guilty of the stupid comment once and it was a lesson learned. Friends called me out on it after the fact and that, along with a little restrospection told me to not be anybody's fool. I knew better and had not made any comment previously that was frowned upon. In fact, one such incident brought a kind response and genuine smile from Michael Jordan at RDU in the late Spring of 1990 while he was in the midst of others in the concourse fawning and gushing with banal and perdictable pap. Originality and Sincerity is Human and most recognize this. Even so, it's often best to give people room and only have something to say if asked. The situations that go beyond the simple stupid comment are a whole other thing, really.

 When narcissists, sociopaths, and others with mental issues take the celebrity worship too far, it gets ugly fast. Often it appears to be driven by jealousy, ego, or some other self-centered ailment, with the perpetrator wanting to somehow dominate someone who they could never hold a candle to and this is sadly true in the mountain biking realm. I've witnessed the stupid comments at events (and on the trail), as well as other weirdness from the "trying too hard to be somebody" set. They want into what their perception of the "cool kids club" is so badly, their stumbling and bumbling becomes so severe, it renders them an outcast. I've yet to hear of anything being taken too far in this light, however there's always a first time. The problem for a perpetrator of evil here is that their fitness (both mental and physical) are most likely no match for a confrontation and things will probably not end well for them. The moral of the story? Just shut the fuck up and ride your bike. If you can't handle something so delightfully simple as that, you are the problem and should find something else to feed your fragile ego.

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate

Legacies and Mountain Biking

 Everyone leaves a Legacy, no matter who they are, how long they are on this rock, or what they do with their time on it. With the Human Experience being so varied by a multitude of factors, ones Legacy can range from the bottom of the proverbial toilet, to the top of the World and all points in-between. What seems to separate the two extremes in many Legacies is the ability to realize that the bottom of the toilet stinks and distancing oneself from shit begets fresh air by simply doing good things. This doesn't particularly mean grandiose gestures or acts, but more particularly awareness of proper deportment in day to day living. It's as simple as a "Please" or "Thank You", which in practice has the ability to further a Legacy by bleeding over into the other simple aspects of daily life. Leaving a Legacy of good takes work and Legacies based on sloth don't, in which the latter attracts bottom dwellers and a close proximity to the aforementioned shitpit.

 I'd be a hypocrite if I said that my proximity to the bottom was always distant. Unless you are Mother Teresa, you've all been close to it at times as well. What separates Human Beings from Inhuman Beings is the ability to admit you've made a mistake, correct that mistake if possible, and learn from the experience in order to avoid repeating it. In the mountain biking realm, a mistake is as simple as running out of the trail bed and making a track off-trail. The mistake in this instance is not controlling your bike (Ride in Control is basic MTB etiquette), so admitting you were out of control, erasing your off-trail tracks (Leave No Trace is basic outdoors etiquette), and riding in control is the lesson learned. Leaving a Legacy of turd, the sloth will just ride on and leave the damage they've created behind, while not learning anything. Those who leave a Legacy of good will repair their damage and because most from this realm are capable of learning beyond correcting miscues, they'll learn how to navigate that section of trail in control. An interesting parallel to this actually exists in Golf. Golfers who wish to leave a Legacy of good replace their divots, whereas the sloth golfers don't. The punch line to this parallel is that irresponsible "mountain bikers" are no better than an irresponsible golfer. The question remains, what Legacy do you wish to leave on the trail?

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate

Squorx Nipple Driver Hack

 I've been building wheels for over a quarter of a century now and can usually get one ready to roll from start to finish in about 45 minutes (fresh 29er BMX trad builds above). This is using the standard j-bend spokes, nipples and flanged hubs with single wall or double wall rims. I'm no expert by any means, but the trust I've built with my work to stand up to the rigors of a Clydesdale riding the varied terrain I enjoy lends to the legitimacy of my builds.

 Enter the Squorx. I understand the concepts behind them and respect those who have embraced this technological advantage, especially in regards to professionals who depend on the time factor. With proven tools and methods, wheelbuilders trained properly can turn out quality in a fraction of the time traditional wheelbuilding normally does. Since I have plenty of time and no desire to delve into modern wheelbuilding beyond the two mountain bikes I own, investing in the tools and methods does not interest me.

 The hack was borne from a trip to the hardware store, where my intent was to purchase a Torx T20 bolt to modify as a driver. This particular hardware store has all of their T20 driven hardware in sealed containers, so checking fitment was impossible without being a turd and breaking a package open. However, right next to the Torx bolts/screws were drywall screws/sinks and it hit me. Those sinks are plastic and a heated Squorx would melt right into it and create a driver. Knowing I have a few at home, I bailed from the store empty-handed. Upon arriving home and opening the utility odds/ends drawer, the first thing I spied that was plastic was an old ballpoint pen. After clipping the clicking end off and stripping the internals, I spun a Squorx onto an old spoke, heated the Squorx and slowly pressed the pointy end of the pen shell onto it. As the plastic cooled, it was pressed gently to mold the T20 shape internally. After cooling, the Squorx was removed and the plastic filed relatively smooth. Easy Peasy

 While this device is no means a professional driver, it will allow me to get the Squorx and accociated washers threaded onto the spokes and then finish the build traditionally from there. The Case is Solved

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate 

MTB Saddle Down Full Ride

 Way back in the day, I didn't mess with saddle height in any situations. It didn't matter to me most of the time, so "set it and forget it" reigned supreme in my world. This remained so until sometime just after the turn of the century in Durango. A friend and I set about upon Haflin Canyon and at the top, my saddle finally got dropped for a descent. The revelation that followed enhanced my freakishness on two wheels exponentially, another quantum leap. 

 Since I was singlespeeding on the regular by this time, an article that had been published in print suggested doing occasional saddle down full rides. This especially made sense for 1x1 because I was standing for most climbing anyway. The revelations within this realm of saddle down were even greater, especially with having it out of the way on climbs that required extra manuevering. Being able to contort and even using the lowered saddle as a guide when ascending turns at speed added much more benefit than even the strength obtained.

 Fast forward to present and unless I'm on a lengthy a-technical climb, the saddle stays down. This is true for both of my Mountain Bikes, rigid SS and FS. A good friend and bike shop owner once told me that dropper posts are a "game changer" and suggested I get on board with them. While this may be true for most, it's wholly untrue to me for several reasons and the biggest being that I'm already used to my modus operandi and don't mind stopping to adjust a seatpost manually on occasion. The skills that have been added to my Magic Bag of Tricks are irrevocable and ever-expanding. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

 If one is considering an attempt at this, I have only one piece of advice, take your time. In this day and age of people trying to sell the "one size fits all" advice, I'm here to say that is 100% bullshit. This and other suggestions in improving one's skillsets may or may not work for everyone. Even so, taking your time will benefit you in at least two ways. One is that if it's something contrary to you and what you wish to accomplish, you will lessen any chance of injury and not waste too much of your time. Second, if it does work and you heed personal limitations, it will be much more enjoyable to the point where you look forward to the challenge.

Now go ride your bike!

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate

The Secret of The Surly Jethro Tule

 The official uses of the Surly Jethro Tule are 15mm Box Wrench, Bottle Opener and Keychain. Some reviews tend to nit-pick the wrench for not providing enough leverage, but the design appears to not have been utilized properly in these instances. The two sided wrench and spoon shape are purposeful leverage partners in tightening or loosening axle nuts. The spoon makes using ones shod foot and body weight possible to obtain massive amounts of torque, while the two sides of the wrench permit both tightening or loosening an axle nut. This is where the Surly Jethro Tule's abilities seem to end.

 The opener side of the spoon is divided into three sections, which appears to be a weight savings by design, however it goes beyond that. When I asked one of those responsible for this handy device about the weight savings being somewhat minimal, they laughed and produced their own personal version. From the very end of the spoon, they had drilled a hole through the spine under the bottle opener to the weight savings cutout on the head side. From there, I didn't need to use my imagination and kept it under wraps for many years.

 Fast-Forward to Colorado Prop 64's passing and I began considering the novelty of the modification. After a couple of years in, a friend passed through who has been a machinist since we were in high school. I broke out my Jethro Tule and asked if he could hook it up with the modification I was shown. He agreed to and took it with him, sending it back with a perfect job, including stepping the hole on the wrench head side down to eliminate debris intake. While its capacity and length in this mode of operation may leave something to be desired, it works in a pinch, just as the rest of its functions were designed to do.

Piece ✌️ Out

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate

 

From Tumbleweeds to MTB Destination

Westwater, UT 1999

 In March 1995, I emigrated from North Carolina to Western Colorado in search of dry air and new places to ride bicycles. I rented an apartment in the sleepy boom-bust town of Fruita and on my first trip down Aspen Avenue, saw an almost empty downtown and tumbleweeds blowing down the street. Truthfully, the town seemed to be forlorn at best. The surrounding landscape however, appeared limitless to the imagination.

 Within a couple of months of residing in Fruita, a former honey factory on the SE corner of Mulberry and Aspen opened as a bike shop. I made it a point to pedal over on a day off to see what was happening there and was pleased to see it had the makings of a solid LBS. This fact was confirmed after I tore up the rear wheel of my primary MTB and brought it in for repair. Friendly, Fast, Proper and Great Pricing were all present. It was nice to have Over The Edge Sports as my LBS, even having no idea of what was to come.

 The first Fruita Fat Tire Festival came and went without my participation due to my work schedule. In the interim between the first two FFTFs, I met a couple of characters who were running multiday supported Kokopelli Trail trips and they hired me as a guide. When the second FFTF approached, it was determined that volunteering to guide rides under the banner of their tour company would be a good idea and we hosted rides daily during the festival. The vibes and multitude of volunteer perks confirmed that we had made the correct choice in participating. This set the foundation for what was to follow in my progression on two wheels in the dirt.

 Shortly after that second festival, my friends and I were riding trails in the "open travel" designated Bookcliffs one day and saw a few people on a faint cattle path just off of a main route. We stopped and called out to them and they motioned us over. We recognized them as core members of what was happening out there and were invited to join in, putting tracks down to help compact the faint path. This is when acquaintances became friends and from then on I was fully involved.

 The ringleader of the movement that was happening in Fruita had decided to go forth with it in early 1995, opening Over The Edge Sports with a few business partners who also saw the potential. What attracted me to it most was the enthusiasm to create something for everyone to enjoy and have fun while doing so. It was already evident before really knowing any of the OGs and after joining in to ride with them, the level of energy, skills, and comeraderie were the perfect formula to compliment morphing from being a casual enthusiast to living a lifestyle. This was facilitated by everyone who came and went while I was present for the next eight years. Everyone brought something to the table and we all realized it began with the the ringleader's notion that Fruita, CO had the potential to be a World Class MTB Destination, even being as close as it is to Moab, UT. One of the primary differences between the two locales was the emphasis of mountain biking responsibly, which was led from the top in Fruita. This is still evident today in many ways, including the inception of The Fruita Lean, which is the proper method of yielding on any singletrack trail, but especially in desert environs. We strived to keep Singletrack *single* and single it remained due to both education and diligence. Again, it all began at the top.

  The cat was let out of the bag very rapidly, assisted by the burgeoning internet, but primarily through word of mouth. The FFTF grew every year, as did the amount of visitors during the shoulder seasons in Colorado. During the Summer and Winter, the core group road tripped around the West to ride bikes and have fun. The carefree style accompanied by the relentless pursuit of smooth that in turn begat skill and speed,  garnered the attention of those who recognized and appreciated what we were doing. They in turn realized that this was attenable to anyone who applied these basic tenets in lieu of attempting to force themselves into the lifestyle by careless aggression that the trails still suffer to this day. It wasn't merely about mountain biking, it was also about being stewards of the lifestyle and yet again, this all began at the top.

 I departed the Grand Valley, yet never lost touch with many of those who were there from the beginning to the end of my tenure in Western Colorado. Over the years many more flowed in, some stayed and others moved on. Many made fantastic contributions and some are still doing so. Few however, have made claims of having been there from the start, or fed notions that Fruita blossomed largely or even solely by their doing. While contributions to the area have been made by many, every little piece of the puzzle was crucial, especially in the late 1990s. The ringleader did an interview in the past few years, which is posted up on yewtewb. In the comments section, most responses were positive and deservedly so. One commenter decided to lambaste the ringleader, accusing them of being egotistical and not giving credit to anyone else. Had this comnenter actually listened, credit was given without having to name names. Names are for tombstones and besides that, those I knew and befriended from that bunch still let their actions do the talking for them.

 After 20 years of not hanging out in Fruita or with the esteemed ringleader, we recently had the opportunity to catch-up and ride a bit there. Being thick as thieves for about eight years, we picked right up as if we had hung out just a few weeks prior. Life for both of us had gotten in the way of communicating much, or meeting up and we had always remained friends contrary to that. On both rides we took on the West side of the Grand Valley, we encountered another OG Fruitian (native, actually). Again, old friends picking right up where we left off. Fruita has changed a bit more, but mostly in population and an improved service industry. Yes, many are responsible for this transformation from Tumbleweeds to MTB Destination, but it all began somewhere and ignoring those origins is too Orwellian for me to not have a say about it. No shit, I was there.

Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate