Ride down and join the fun!

What: Bicycles, beer, and assorted merriment
When: Thursday, May 30th. 7 – 10pm
Where: Shelter Half – 161 S. La Brea. (Just a few blocks north of the 4th Street Bike Boulevard!)

Yeah, those are all just warm up races for the Hell of the Northeast!

This Saturday we’re throwing our own cobbled classic. Even if you’re not up for throwing down, come on out anyway and join fun. After the race we’ll be doing a casual ride to Riverside Service Station just across the LA River for food and drinks plus an outdoor screening of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure at 8pm.

Then, go get some shut eye so you can be rested up for the 8th Annual Feel My Legs I’m a Racer presented by Swarm! (There just might be a special prize for anyone who can pull off a double victory.)

What: Hell of The Northeast
When: Saturday, April 27
Registration: 3PM
Entry Fee: Yeah, right. This is FREE event!
Race: 3:30PM
Where: Velo Love (aka Swrve World Headquarters)
Categories: Fixed/Open Male/Female. Run what ya brung, yo.

Answers to popular questions…

What kind of race is this?
The Hell of The Northeast is an alley cat format. No pesky entry fees or racing licenses needed. Please obey the rules of the road and use your best judgement. Be respectful and courteous to your fellow racers and remember, you are responsible for you.

Can we preview the course? 
Nope. Course all will be revealed just before the race. Plan on about 10 miles. You’ll go up and down bit and the roads may be on the bumpy side.

What type of bike should I bring from my arsenal?
Course will be oriented towards road bikes but feel free to race whatever you got. Fixies get their own category and then there’s everything else. Just make sure your bike is in good working order and brakes and helmets are encouraged.

What happens if I win?
Well, hopefully you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and earn the respect and admiration of your peers.  And if that wasn’t enough, we’ll have some great loot courtesy of some even greater sponsors.
 

To celebrate our collective love to ride, we’re having a photo contest! There are two ways to win. One way is for locals, the other is for non-locals. You have between now and 11:59PM (Pacific Standard Time) on February 13th to enter. The winners will be announced on Valentine’s Day.

Here’s what to do…

1) For those of you who live in #BikeLA, roll down to VeloLove and snap a pic of your beloved bike at the front door. Come by any time. Opened or closed it doesn’t matter. Once you’ve taken your awesome photo, post it to Instagram and be sure to tag VeloLove and use the hashtag #VeloLoveValentine.

                                         Your beloved bike goes here…

Our local winner will receive a $50 Gift Card to VeloLove! 

2) For those of you who don’t live in LA, take a photo that has something to do with bikes and love- could be your beloved bike, could be your beloved on a bike, could be how much you love to ride. Basically, the sky’s the limit. Once you’ve snapped your photo, post it on VeloLove’s Facebook wall.

Our non-local winner will receive a limited edition Swrve GORE-TEX Belgian Cap in the color of your choice and yes, will will ship worldwide!

What are you waiting for? Bust out those Fun-Savers and get out there!

When she’s not holding down the VeloLove fort, Yeti’s favorite pastime is going mountain biking and Ace from The Sleepers was able to keep up with her and Cache long enough to make this adorbs video of her in action.

Team Dream “Messin’ Around” with Cache & Yeti from The Sleepers on Vimeo.

If you’d like to get  a limited edition Team Dream Bicycle Team cap (99.99% guaranteed to arrive free of mud) check out the TDBT site.

Read the full review here and be sure to cruise around the site and check out the other fun Cycleboredom has to offer.

Our Swap + Shop is back for round 2 and kicks the day off at high noon. Come snag a deal or make a little loot off all those spare parts you have laying around. There will be tons of food, drinks and fun. Costumes are more than encouraged!

Then at 4pm is the first ever running of the Glassell Murder Mountain Urban CX Race! 

The course is going to be a load of fun and wicked challenging with 2 laps, 1.5 miles of dirt 800 feet of climbing grades up 20% and 188 stairs plus a couple bonus features.

We’ll see y0u there!

We need to talk. Not once but twice you’ve blindsided California cyclists by vetoing legislation that would make it illegal for a motorist to pass a cyclist by less than three feet. Congratulations on leaving Rick Perry in the dust by being the only governor to veto such a law an unprecedented second time.

I like to think of myself as a very low maintenance constituent but as a cyclist and co-owner of a cycling related business, I gotta say if you had to pick the one thing that would personally affect me each and every single day, your vetoes of safe passing laws would be very hard to top.

All we wanted was 36 lousy inches that would make an infinite amount of difference in terms of safety and give authorities a solid foundation when it comes to issuing citations when cyclists are struck from behind. If you haven’t noticed, your wet noodle stance on distracted driving hasn’t exactly convinced anyone to put their phone down and keep their eyes on the road. All too often, the guilty party walks away with a slap on the wrist thanks to no specific law being on the books. Meanwhile, if the cyclist is lucky, they’re alert during the ride to the ER.

So here’s what we’re going to do, Jerry, you possessor manly physical fitness you, you and me and whoever wants to tag along are going to take a little bike ride from our headquarters to the beach. That’s 19 mostly downhill miles and yes, consider this a challenge. While I respect your bravado for pulling down a prime Linda Ronstadt, I don’t think you’re man enough to handle a taste of what it feels like to get #JerryBrowned.

Seriously though, if you have any aspirations of going for a second second term, you’re going to need to start building up some goodwill because right now you’ve vetoed yourself into a hole at least 100,000 votes deep and what better way to start digging out than by taking a bike ride across the largest city in California?

Just picture it- we’d depart from a modern day mom and pop that began as a tiny-tiny company with just a single pair of pants that has grown into a tiny company (with world-wide distribution) employing a dozen people in the name of keeping US craftsmanship alive. Along the way to the beach we’ll ride though a variety of economically and ethnically diverse neighborhoods while basking in some the “best” bicycle infrastructure Los Angeles has to offer.

If you need to regroup after riding the harrowing stretch of Santa Monica Blvd that lacks a bike line due to Beverly Hills being a black hole for cycling, we can take a pit stop. I’ll even spring for lunch. (If you really wanted to get crafty, we could turn our lunch into a fundraising luncheon for you at the conveniently located Beverly Hilton. Just a thought.)

Once we leave Beverly Hills, we’ll have a bike lane all the way to the 405. Crossing under the 405 gets a little Mad Max-ish but it builds character as the say. The good news (if we survive that gauntlet) is the rest of the way is all downhill- unless we get doored or mowed down. Door to ocean we’re looking at a an hour and a half or so of ride time.

I know you’re a busy guy but wouldn’t it be worth a couple hours of your time to regain all those vote you will be losing come 2014? Plus, it’d be another thing you could taunt your pal Chris Christie about.

So think about it Jerry. If you’re down, your people can contact my people here. You pick the time and the day and I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll even make sure to get you a bike with a comfy seat that’s easy on your back. My dad’s your age and he still rides all the time. I’ll be sure to hit him up for some tips.

Sincerely,

Matt

As you may recall, the first proposed law was all but a slam dunk until it clanked off the rim when Jerry Brown vetoed the bill and joined Texas Governor Rick Perry in that exclusive club of governors who vetoed safe passing laws to protect cyclists.

About the only good to come out of whole debacle was coming up with the phrase Jerry Browned- probably the closest I’ll ever get to achieving my lifelong goal of creating a sniglet.

However, I’d gladly trade that in for the comfort of knowing motorists are legally required to safely pass cyclists.

To help ensure Jerry Brown keeps his red pen holstered, you owe it to yourself and everyone else who rides a bike to take the time to drop the guv’nah a quick note to remind him how vital and long overdue this law is.

Thanks to the handy link in the previous sentence, the whole letter writing process will take less time than it takes your technologically challenged aunt to post a cat picture on Facebook.

Seriously, don’t make Jerry’s predecessor angry. Do it. Do it now.

This is going to be a quick (I hope) tale about a ride a couple weeks ago where none of that happened. Six months from now, it will be referred to as the crazy big ride of the summer. And there won’t be any confusion on when it took place thanks to the 107-degree backdrop.

Living in a mythical land where 300+ days a year is a Groundhog Day-like 70 and sunny, your sense of time really gets thrown for a loop- especially if you grew up in a land where there are distinct seasons.

It wasn’t until the temps passed 100 degrees for the first time this year that I realized it was actually summer and we were already on the final descent towards fall according to the calendar. Was the 4th of July really a month ago?

Despite being done with school a long time ago, my inner 12-year-old sparked a mini-panic attack that summer was going to waste.

Plans were quickly made to take the scenic and adventurous route to the beach. We’d be taking an “easy” cruise all the way down Mulholland then up and over Topanga Canyon and ride home along coast.

All was good when we reached Topanga Canyon. Huddled together in the available shade, riding to the sea was scrapped in favor of simply retracing our tracks. For the record, we didn’t wuss on out climbing Topanga Canyon. The thought of dealing what would surely be insane weekend afternoon beach traffic along PCH made head the other way.

The only problem with an out and back ride is the back can get boring real quick- especially when it’s a slog that goes primarily up hill. About halfway to the turn off to get to the hub, the Backbone Trail’s “seven mile downhill” into Will Rogers State Park started to sound like a lot of fun.

Unfortunately it isn’t all down hill. You gotta climb to get to it and then deal with the descent being rudely interrupted by steep, punchy climbs that don’t play well with over-geared cyclocross bikes.

By the time we reached the trailhead, the thought of throwing our bikes away and living off the land started to become an appealing option. Food was gone. Bottles bone dry. Empty gel packets were splayed open in a desperate search for every last drop.

But why worry? It’s only seven miles.

A couple turns past the shade tree that’s been the natural regroup spot since time began, the city finally comes back into view.

Santa Monica and the Pacific are to your right. Way to your left, you can see the outline of downtown and if you squint you can almost see the ZIP Code where your ride started and will be ending. Hopefully.

One thing I’ve never been able to wrap my head around is how the enormity of LA makes it very easy to ride a century and not ever leave town. To ride yourself into a genuine pickle takes a lot of effort and when do it’s always a good time in the worst best way. Similar rides are reminisced and you tell the rookie it can be much worse. No matter how badly you want to walk you ride that last hill as a matter of principal.

The final miles of the Backbone turn into a double track freeway as lululemon’d out hikers walk off their gluten-free brunch. Luckily, this part is all down hill. For realzy.

Will Rogers, spits you out onto Sunset Blvd in that multi-million dollar netherworld between Brentwood and the Pacific Palisades. Half an hour ago we couldn’t have been farther from civilization. Now we’re dodging high school kids in Ferraris.

The ride is done except for a 20 mile slog home. The first chance we get Cokes are chugged like we’re reliving our Natty Light days. They only fuel us to the nearest 7-Eleven so we can properly stock up. More Cokes, Gatorade, Rice Krispey Treats, Milk Duds, Slim Jims, Hostess Fruit Pies, coconut water and bananas (seriously, WTF?).

We sit on a gum and who knows what else stained sidewalk and feast like kings.  The beast has been slayed. There’s no doubt we look equally as weird to the other weirdoes coming and going.

Making our way back through town, we gradually go our separate ways. I have the farthest ride home and by the time I’m riding solo I’m in full survival mode. Everything hurts and pedals refuse to be turned. Even the bike has thrown in the towel. Barely 20 minutes from home and serious thought is given to calling for a ride. The bad angel sees the opportunity and leans in to explain in a very calculated tone that calling a cab and faking a catastrophic mechanical would be the much more noble thing to do.

Just as excuses are being crafted, a fruit cart comes into view. A whole rainbow of fresh fruit chilling on crushed ice. Paul Sherwin calls the engine room for more power and I unleash a wicked 16 mile-per-hour sprint to beat the light.

I pull up to the cart as the vendor is putting together an order. The moment we made eye contact I swear he started chopping as fast as he could. He finishes up and I say “Grande con todo, por favor.”

My Spanglish catches the attention of a group of hovering tourists. Sunburned, salt stained, and covered in dirt, I somehow look trustworthy.

“Excuse me, sir,” asked a lady with a thick Southern drawl. “Do you have to order in… Spanish?”

“Oh no. He’ll know what you’re talking about. I take it y’all aren’t from here?”

“We’re from Alabama. Is it that obvious?”

“Only a little. Not all of you are wearing ‘Bama shirts.”

My fruit is bagged and I hand the guy seven crumpled and soggy dollar bills. It’s all I have.

“Is it really seven dollars?” whispers my new friend.

“I don’t know,” I mumble as try to stuff pineapple, watermelon and cantaloupe into my mouth at the same time.

“The small is four and the large is five,” the vendor chimes in in perfectly rehearsed English.

“OK girls, step up if you want fruit! Sir, our phones say there’s In-N-Out Burger nearby but we’re so turned around we don’t know which way is up. Would you mind helping us out?”

I give directions and the ‘Bama ladies coo with excitement about going in to Hollywood. I almost want to ask if there’s room for my bike and me but even my most optimistic shred of id knows there’s no way I could we’d be able to pedal back home.

Suddenly, we all have fruit. The ‘Bama ladies say thanks again and I take my time wrapping what’s left of my feedbag around my handlebars to make sure they head off in the right direction. Not that I could sprint after them any way.

There’s still some summer left. If you haven’t already, get out there and take advantage of it. You never know what fun will happen.

before the big race tomorrow, we scouted some sections of pavé and made our way to the velodrome.

we were amazed at what a bumpy ride the cobbles are, even in a car

the last section of pavé, ceremonial but with the race quickly coming to its end here, oh so exciting…

almost there

just one and one-half laps here to victory!

where do we sign up to become members?

with Cancellera out with a fractured collarbone (get well soon Fabian!) we’ve got a clear favorite