Mud and pancakes and split pea soup and coffee and miller high life and cutting pumpkins in half with my front wheel and dogs and more mud.

Yeah. Well. A big fuck you to the sunshine.

During my race. Well. The wind was blowing hard. I was always in a head wind. And it was pouring rain. As my father would say. Like a cow peeing on a flat stone.

There was mud.

And waterfront property.

Tad made delicious pancakes. (Not in photo). That Damian prepared. Buttered. Syrup'd. Fed me. Delicious. I made some epic split pea soup. (Also not in photo). That Damian burned. Ahem. Saved from burning. Well, I actually enjoyed the little hunks of burned heaven. You know who else is a little hunk of burned heaven...

And the epic magnetic bumper that has not only drove a $40,000 coffee mug from Sweet Pea Bakery in Portland to the Hillsboro Cross Crusade, but now took my bitchin' new front wheel for a ride from Kruger's on Sauvie all the way to North Portland. Glossy! Or would that be. Ahem. As the kids say these days. Glossin'!

How we got this far...

The license plate holder reads, "GET IT ON!"

The back patch of the Motordome pilot jacket reads, "Travel ~ N ~ Fun!"

"FUN IT ON!" became "GET IT FUN!"

"GET IT FUN!" became "FUN IT ON!"

"Ask me about wizard mode" was suggested for T-Shirts.

Which became, "Wizard me to FUN IT mode!"

I lost my shit when James texted me late one night after many beers, "Fuzard me to win it mode!"

The apocalypse is not for sale.

Knock on the door...

Hello?

Is the motorhome for sale?

Why would it be for sale?, I reply.

Would you sell it?

No.

Three Men and a Motordome

Don't worry we didn't really make another of those aweful movies!
I'm a little slow to getting around to race reports but hopefully it'll just remind everyone of the fun that was had a few weeks ago. What could be better than spending Halloween weekend in Astoria with three dudes?

At least the trash got packed out



Seriously it was an amazing weekend and my first time out to Halloween Cross in Astoria(I still miss the days of the Flying M Ranch).
I had the winning number on Saturday, the last number to be called up to start, which meant a six pack of beer. Because of this, I have little to report on for Saturday.



It also meant I missed the boys all cuddled in Grandma's Attic watching cartoons.
Sunday was really all that mattered anyways.
We woke up and cooked breakfast:



Damian's costume turned out to be useful throughout the day, not just for food but beer and cameras too.
After eating, the rest of us got our costumes together and boy did we look good!



The race was fun, there were human barriers and a robot running around the course cheering everyone on.



Besides all the usual and unusual shennanigans, John from Team Beer managed to fall on his bike and put his knee into his carbon wheel. It was like the shot heard round the world. The crowd was stunned and the damage was impressive.



As the sun set, the zombies came out and it was time to get the hell out of Astoria

Monday Blogday- a reflection given a day later.

Mondays are generally when blog-master Damian likes to 'lay it down.' I know this not because I actually read the blogs, oh no. I know this because he composes his brilliant (I hope) prose at the vegan cafe/bakery at which I work (I'm trying to avoid shameless advertising, but you'll find said bakery on the corner of S.E. 12th and Stark, as well as on the back of our beloved Motordome jerseys). Anyways, yesterday was Monday. Blogday. And who should saunter in, but my treasured roommate Bobby. We exchanged pleasantries such as- "Oh, hello! How are you? Did you sleep well last night?" and "I'm fantastic! I slept like a baby! Did you notice that I freshened up the toilet?" Darling Bobby also brought fantastic news- Damian and Hazel were expected shortly. Sure enough, just as Bob-o selected their table, Hazel and Damian waltzed into to cafe completing the trifecta of terrific. After they ordered their delicious, gourmet americanos and snacks, they took a seat, opened their computers/reading materials and got down to business...whatever that means. I didn't get a chance to chat with my chums during their stay because, well, I let my espresso talk for me...and frankly I was at work and don't really have time for tomfoolery or truancy...like, I totally wish I could hang out and write brilliant blogs, then maybe do a sudoku and hang out some more till I wanted to go on a ride in the West Hills, but I can't cuz I gotta make fucking lattes and cappuccinos, alright? uh. Sadly my comrades eventually left to continue their journey to the weekend by way of the time clock. I waved them off, one by one, wishing them well and hoping the rain would hold out for their sakes. As I was busing the tables (usually something I don't have to do because it's a 'buss your own table' type of establishment) I noticed that young Bobby had neglected to clear his section of the table. I made a mental note to rib him about it in the evening, then proceeded to clear the table. I figured that it was probably his sweet and loving way of saying "Fuck you Kim! You NEVER do your dishes at home!"
So, I decided a haiku was in order...
Bobby Birk you turd.
How could you leave your dishes?
I cry tears of Joy©.

xo

3 Mikes and a Corndog

Blazers off to a scorching 8 & 3 record... and my Batum Raider poster is sitting idle. His return to the court still to be determined. It's painful. Perhaps I should build a shrine of some sort to aid in his recovery. Motordome, your official guide to seasonal obsession disorders and the NBA.

Cross Curse-ade Number... Is this thing over yet?

Cross Crusade is a sadistic bitch... though we love her. I suffered another bio-mechanical with a bum knee this week, survey says... I had the seat to low on the cycle trainer at the gym the night before, a half hour warm-up prior to lifting that I am still suffering from today. Damian rode hard, finished, spent, shaking, shivering, coughing, he looked so bad I left and went home to cuddle up next to a warm fire. Craig, in his usual cheerful self, kicked ass across the board. Greg reclined on a beach in Florida with a tall drink in his hand, and a taller woman at his side. (Taking some creative liberties with the true height of his secret Canadian girlfriend). Todd scrounged around looking for free beer and heckling. Flat beer was found at the TB tent (as was shelter from the downpour). Good heckling was found prior to Todd finding the beer, especially at the infamous cone corner. Buggy rolled smokes. JoinO (somebody tell me how to spell his nickname) finished a lap before the rest of the field - AWESOME! Rachel and Ira were there. Tad had amazing outfit - he scared some children. Joel was as excited as I had ever seen him - blame it on the conditions. Heyzel/Hazel represented!

I went home early. Like I said, it was cold, and went, and it smelled funny, and again, wolves. I'm saving myself for Krugers.

Rim Ride

Tubulars. You don't need them. Rims are engineered for cutting through mud, it's the pavement that's tricky.

This guy captured the hearts of Astoria with continuing to race after rolling a tub.

Motordome Not Exploded!

False report from our field reporters. We pay them in beer and vanilla flavored malt liquor. Sometimes they get their facts wrong. Waaaaayy WRONG!





What really happened was that four roadworthy team members(Griz, Bobby, Hazel, and I) crawled into a can on wheels to head to a safe and fireball free weekend of racing, drinking, fake racing, and booing and cheering. There were sexy robots, questionably sexy Borats, Sloth!, a branch clearing giraffe on a tall bike, a bull chasing some runners, a girl wearing a shower, some idiot with a skateboard through his chest(uh, me), lots of speedos and bikinis, okay almost too many, PeeWee Herman, leprechaun, Oompah Loompah, Super Mario and Luigi and Toadstool, as well as dragons, and multiple costume failures-like the guy with the trident. Just sayin'.





The human six pack of barriers was pretty dope, and chased a few people down to make them dismount again or face possible DQ, or lots of booing. There was a ton of booing. There were a few handfuls of spandors at each race who either did not dress up or just put on a wig and called it good. Booooo!!!!! Beer and water and snacks were flying at these monsters, who saw it fit to poach the course of merry making, and fun having to, you know, get all serious and score some points in the serious. But these guys just didn't get the memo that this was NOT a race.





Hopefully enough trauma was caused by the barriers/gauntlet of shame area that this will not happen again. We were in good company over by Team Beer, Super Relax and Grundel Bruisers and the sun was out for the crowd to enjoy. Sure I didn't get to see bicycles filled willy nilly with explosives lit on fire and ridden around a hapless throng of drunk bastards, which would rule, but I got a welcome change of pace and survived my race without breaking ribs. I got to fall asleep in the granny attic with Griz and Bobby in what would have been one of the best photos of the weekend. But I have memories and those are pretty good.





Next week is SSCXWC at PIR and we will be seeing one of the largest fields all season with a field limit of 230. Gotta get it together and get in shape for lots of drinking beer and enjoying ourselves, and maybe even some good racing.

Motordome Explodes in Fiery, Bloody Farewell

Tough times, tough, bummer times.