About Me

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Mountain Home, Arkansas, United States
My name is Dimitri Harris and I have been building frames for over 6 years now. I learned the basics after spending two weeks with Koichi Yamaguchi. He is one of the most interesting people I have ever met and I am thankful to have worked with him. Since then I have just been building one frame after another and learning as much as possible along the way. I build steel fillet-brazed frames that go by the name of MEECH, its an old nickname that I have had since I was a kid. I build mostly cyclocross frames because I love their versatility however I also do road,single-speed, and mountain bikes as well. Custom frames start around $1400. All the frames are handmade by me here in Mountain Home, Arkansas. I am insured and guarantee all of my work so if you are in the market for a custom steel frame I would be glad to build it for you. I am also building frames from carbon fiber so if you would like to ride a prototype frame give me a shout. Thanks for stopping by. You can email me at meech151@hotmail.com or call (870)897-6703 or visit www.meechcustombicycles.com Thanks.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Next Up-Nate's Ride

I've had Nate's frame in the jig now for quite a few days and was just waiting to finish Scott's bike up before proceeding.  Got everything mocked up and tacked the rear end this afternoon and I'm hoping to have it all brazed up tomorrow.  

This is a road bike similar to the last frame but with a little extra tire clearance in order to throw on some 28-30c skins for an extra smooth ride, and we're gonna tuck it all under some standard road brake calipers. This sounds like some Paris-Roubaix stuff going on to me.  I believe Nate spent a little time in Belgium on the pro cyclocross circuit a handful of years ago and it sounds like he may have some unfinished business with the cobblestone streets over there. I can't lie, I would love to see a MEECH rolling across some cobbles.  Seeing people putting these bikes to the test is what I enjoy most.  Its why I make them.




These bottom bracket shells always come pre-drilled, however I always take some extra meat out of them in order to shave grams.  You can see the difference from the photo above. There may even be enough space there should you ever want to convert it to electronic shifting.




The usual water-tight miters with a little scuffing for extra adhesion.











Thanks for stopping by and feel free to check back in a day or so for some updates.  

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Scoot's Little Rock Road Racer

Finally got the parts thrown on Scott's frame.  Getting things done in an orderly manner seems almost impossible these days, but every so often I get something finished and it feels good.  Scott decided to try some different components on this build and Campagnolo Chorus felt right to him.  I'm a big fan of Chorus as well and run it with some older Campy Record cranks that I've had for years.  The paint colors on this frame were a perfect contrast from one another.  We've got a little metallic Silver opposing some metallic Mango Tango/Toxic Orange, not to mention a few black and white accents thrown around in there.  It made for a unique blend of colors and a nice custom frame.  It's a 53.5 cm frame with a sloping top tube and a traditional 1" steel fork. Let's go check it out.

"That seat looks a little high for a 53.5 cm frame D, does Scott have some long legs?" 

Well, I might've set the saddle at my height just to sit on it and see what it felt like, but I didn't ride it, well, I might've took it for a little spin around the neighborhood, you know, just to make sure everything is working properly.  It was just a quick 80 mile loop, not much gravel. You know I'm lying now.  I can't remember the last time I rode more than 45, and I need to be in a serious frame of mind before attacking gravel. Probably the last time I road 50+ miles was the time Scoot and I did the Bicycle Tour of Colorado.  

Remember that night in Crested Butte when we were at the bar chatting with that drunk that kept spitting on us while he was talking? Damn!  If I would've had a paper bag I would've put it over my head for protection, or better yet, his.

Listen.  Most every frame I build for people gets boxed up and shipped away with me wondering how it would ride with some components draped over it.  Luckily, most all my customers send me some build pics and give me the lowdown.  It's not often that I get to build up the complete bike, and with the new and improved 2015 Campagnolo components. If you think I'm gonna let this one get away from me without throwing my lanky arse over it you got another thing coming.  Even though its roughly 4cm too small for me, with the saddle set at the right height I was fairly comfortable riding it around the neighborhood and even climbed one good hill on it.  Feels good to me Scoot!


Happened to have a stainless steel badge in the drawer that I used on this one.  It just seemed appropriate.


Decided to paint the 3T stem in order to get a little more Toxic Orange on here.  It worked nicely with the fork crown.

 



"Grab a hiney!"

Anyone remember the Hiney winery?  I think it was out of Memphis.  "Grap a Hiney" was their slogan.


I pride myself on getting the seat stays cut to the exact same length.  There is nothing that bothers me more than to see the rear view of a custom built frame and one of the stays is slightly shorter than the other.  I've seen some high-end ti frames like that and I just thought, "What a wasted $3000 bill."  Check out those Campy Skeleton brakes.  They're tight.

Fresh pair of bullet-proof Ksyriums.

Front end...

...matches the rear.

How can someone not love the look of carbon fiber levers. We wrapped the bars with lizard skin.

Newly revamped Ultra-Torque crankset 52/36 tooth wrapped in a KMC Gold chain.  I love these chains.  They're hard to keep looking as brilliant as this but with a little lubricant and rag you can keep them looking  pretty good.  They remind me of the gold chains that they used to use on factory works motocross bikes.



Love the contrasts here.

Scott wore his old Avocet O2 saddle out so I'm gonna do something that I normally wouldn't do and part with one out of my collection. It's gonna cost him though. Afterall, they're the greatest saddle ever made.

I'll put the saddle back down where it's supposed to be before he picks it up.

I dug out an old photo of Scott's first MEECH.  Its been ridden in a handful of Tours of Colorado and is gonna become his hard weather/training bike.

Here is a pic from one of his many tours.  Scott and I go way back, more than 20 years. We met through an old friend and have been putting in the miles ever since.  Scott was actually the first person that I ever did a long ride with.  It was only something like 40 miles but back then I wasn't even a cyclist, just a guy with a bicycle.  It was a Schwinn World 10-speed and the furthest that I had ever ridden it was 15 miles.  That seemed like some sort of adventure to me back then.  "Oh the humanity".  Anyway, I think Scott was riding an old Panasonic steel frame and we headed out into the flat farmland outside of Jonesboro one weekend.  At about the halfway point we stopped at a small store and grabbed a burger and coke, smoked a couple of cigarettes, and then headed on down the road.  The wind was wearing me down and I had fallen off Scoot's wheel and had lost sight of him.  I decided that the only way I would see him again was if I hitched a ride.  I thumbed a ride and a farmer stopped. I jumped in the bed of his pickup with my bike and told him to drive until he saw another guy on a bicycle, and then to keep going another mile or two past him in order to give me a good lead.  Long story short, Scoot had pulled off the road for a smoke and to let me catch up and he said he looked up only to see me going by in the back of a pickup truck.  We never did see him so I let the farmer take me all the way back to town.  Didn't see Scoot again until that night at his apartment.  Guess you know how I roll. That was my introduction to road cycling and I'm forever grateful.  Thanks Scott!

About 5 years ago he took me out to Colorado for a bicycle tour through the Rockies and it will forever be remembered.  Great time was had.


I know this isn't a blog about babies but I decided to throw in a photo of Jumpin Jack since he was representing.  He may be young but he already knows which brand is #1.  I'll probably use him for a human billboard for the next few years in order to get back some of the money spent on all those green beans that he throws in the floor.  Can't wait till he learns how to miter tubes, braze, and paint.


MEECH Custom Bicycles
handmade in
Mountain Home, Arkansas

Thanks for stopping by.




Sunday, April 5, 2015

Flanders Photos

Awe, that doesn't look so bad.


Looks like trying to ride out of a hole.  Throw a little rain on those slick bricks and this will turn into a 5k run.
You can check out some more pics of todays race and watch the race live on Steephill TV.

http://www.steephill.tv/2015/tour-of-flanders/photos/page-01/
This is a shot of the bike that Alexander Kristoff will be riding.  I took this photo off of  Velonews.com and this might be one of the ugliest bikes that I've ever seen.  Is that bicycle square? If my team handed this to me at the starting line of a race (or training ride) I would probably vomit a little on my jersey, if for no other reason than to distract people from looking at my bike. Sweet paint job!  What color is that, Laundry Room Beige? I'd rather ride something that looked like an Easter egg than this. Know what would ride nicely across all those cobbles?  A steel frame.

UPDATE: What are the odds that the one bike I pick out to make fun of actually wins the race? Guess what? I have to admit that Kristoff was making it look light and fast. So I got to give credit where its due.  Hats off to him.





Saturday, April 4, 2015

MEECH's Greek Salsa Recipe

I know this is supposed to be a blog about bicycle stuff, but anyone who visits here from time to time knows that I throw out a bunch of random posts that have no rhyme or reason.  If I stumble onto something that may seem interesting chances are that I'll post it, if for no other reason than to have something fresh for viewers to check out.  If it's something you can eat, even better.  I posted a while back about how I was trying to cut out all the junk food and eat a little better and for the most part I have been successful.  I still eat some sweets but not the "tear open the wrapper, stuff it in your face kind". I've been trying to eat more fruits and nuts (they're usually covered in chocolate), but hey it's a start, and I think I can feel the difference.  Last night I made and devoured some Jello Pudding, but its half milk so I consider that semi-healthy.  But here's a little recipe that I stumbled onto while experimenting with making homemade gyros.  I posted that video a while back and have used it a handful of times since.  This salsa recipe here is a little take off that.  It's super-easy and only has a handful of ingredients, mostly inexpensive ones.  Yesterday I made some and I kicked it up a notch in order to make it more of a meal.  So a couple of ingredients shown here aren't really necessary. Let's check it out.

This photo is a bit blurry but it shows everything and will have to work.
These are all the ingredients (and extra) needed in the amounts that i like, however there is no specific amount for any of the ingredients and you can add more or less of whatever you like.  Here are the basics:

1/2 cucumber peeled and diced
1/2 cup of diced fresh tomatos
1/2 cup of diced Kalamata olives (not black olives)
1/2 cup of diced red onions (I use less so that the onions don't overpower it)
2 tablespoons of olive oil 
2 tablespoons of white wine vinegar
Throw in a little black pepper and garlic powder for extra flavor.
crackers of your choice

This is the basic recipe and its full of flavor, but yesterday I diced up a few shrimp and threw in some crumbled feta cheese and turned this into my lunch.  If you wanted, you could even throw in some diced pepperoni, salami, or bacon and take it over the top.


This is about how much you'll get out of the quantities that I used.  Like I said before, you can add or subtract to dial it in to your specific taste. Let this stuff get real cold and its excellent on a hot day at the lake or hanging out at the crit races.  I eat this stuff by the pound and I've noticed that it's making me faster. Hope you like it and that I haven't bored you too bad.  Have a good weekend.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Christian's Mountain Bike

Christian sent me a couple of quick pics of his mountain bike build.  Looks pretty light and tight to me.  Love the look of the Lefty fork on the MEECH.  Christian has a lot of bicycle experience and it was a pleasure to work with him on this.

I want one.

Here is Scoot's frame getting a little primer in the Love Shack.



Did you think I was kidding about my Granny's 6-shooter. I was in my home town for a couple of days to take care of some work and thought I would pick it up. Turns out I think its a 5-shooter and not a 6.  I could't get the thing to open up.  Shows what I know about pistol's.  I was wanting to make sure that there isn't another bullet in it for safety reasons.  If you look real close, you can see that about 1-2 inches from the end of the barrel there is a bulge in it where the bullet got stuck.

Little close up shot here but it doesn't really show it any better.  Oh well, back in the drawer it goes.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

"Pump-It" Danny Died

The neighborhood corner where we all played baseball. 
 This is also the field that Kevin, Danny, and I burned down with a railroad flare.


I just recently found out that one of my favorite childhood buddies, Danny Roghen, has passed away.  We called him "Pump It" Danny. He was one of the coolest people that I ever knew.  He was that kid in the neighborhood who would always be the first to do a dare.  Whether it was on his bicycle, motorcycle, or just some crazy idea that we'd come up with from time to time, it didn't matter what it was, if anyone had the balls to do it, Danny was the man.  We used to get into so much trouble together, always up to no good. Not serious trouble, but just fun trouble.  Things like fireworks, blowing up garbage cans with M-80s, snow-balling cars, busting pumpkins, crashing Cox airplanes into houses, etc.  We weren't mean kids but simply looking for a good time. We spent so many afternoons after school just riding wheelies on the neighborhood streets and catwalking our bikes down the hills.  We could ride a wheelie all the way down the street to the stop sign and eventually even learned to turn the corner. Danny seemed so cool to me because his family always had motorcycles in the garage.  His dad had a motorcycle, his brothers had motorcycles, and back then all I wanted to do was be around motorcycles. Danny's dad was actually the first person to call me Meech. Danny had a go-kart that we spent countless hours on speeding around the neighborhood.  The gas pedal was broken and so he had tied a string around the throttle at the motor and you would steer with one hand and pull the string with the other.  Sometimes we'd mess around by having one person drive the go-kart while the other pulled the accelerator string.  I remember once when we hit a passing car with a water balloon.  It pissed the guy off so bad that he spun his car around right in the middle of the road and just lit the tires up coming after us.  Danny was pulling the string so hard that it broke and the go-kart started coasting to a stop.  The car had caught up to us and the driver was getting out and I knew that we were as good as dead. Then, all of sudden, right before the guy was up on us, Danny threw his arm over the seat and pushed the throttle wide open with his hand and just held it until we hit some of our old trails at the end of a road.  After we knew we were safe we stopped to catch our breath. I remember his hand had blisters all over from touching it on the motor. He was so clutch when it came to trouble.

The one thing that made him so unique was an anxiety disorder that he developed after he crashed his go-kart.  I didn't see it happen but apparently he tried to drive it down some stairs or railroad ties and he ended up crashing and hitting his head really hard.  He was only 10 yrs. old at the time and it landed him in a coma for about 6 or 7 days. I didn't see him for quite a while after that, and then, just one random day after school, I was walking in the neighborhood and he comes riding his bike down the street like nothing had ever happened. We immediately picked up where we had left off.  I used to ask him what it was like while he was in the coma and he'd just say that it felt like he had been asleep for a long time.  He once told me that he remembered having a dream. Something about an old man who had just bought a brand new John Deere riding lawnmower.  He said he dreamt that while he was standing on the corner waiting on the school bus, the old man was mowing around his mailbox and then the school bus just came flying in and leveled him and his new mower and parts went flying everywhere.  Then he went over and picked up the brand new yellow seat that had been knocked off the tractor and put it on his go-kart. After he told me this we both agreed that the yellow seat would have looked killer on his go-kart, but now I just find it funny that while the old man in the dream was probably laying bloodied and mangled in the ditch somewhere, all twisted up with his new mower, Danny and I were only thinking about how cool the yellow seat would look on his go-kart. The old man never crossed my mind.   Apparently that was the only thing he remembered from the whole experience until after he woke up.  

What happened afterward though was pretty extraordinary.  He didn't find out until later that something had happened to his brain and when he would encounter a situation that made him anxious his body would kinda start jerking.  Not just kinda jerking, but a pretty serious grinding movement. There is some kind of medical term for it I'm sure but the best way I can describe it is that he had an uncontrollable sporadic pelvic thrust and it would come out of nowhere.  It was like he was humping the air.  It makes me think of Wayne's World when they would say, "SWING", only his was more like "SWING-ING" and lasted for a few seconds. It was so odd but at the same time it was hilarious.  If it happened around people that didn't know him, which is usually when it did happen, they wouldn't know what to think.  It looked like something he was sort of doing on purpose but he had no control over it. It was not much different than if someone had a stutter, but instead of stuttering words, Danny had stuttering pelvic thrusts. My mom used to always say, "That poor kid has had a really hard time." I didn't know what she was talking about.  I figured if you had a garage full of motorcycles and a go-kart you were the luckiest person in the world. If I would've had all that, I would've humped my life away.


 This is an updated version of Danny's old house.  


I remember the first time i saw him do it. We were walking down one of the streets on the far backside of our neighborhood.  Danny had a handful of those small packages of firecrackers.  Right about the time a car was approaching, he lit some and threw them right in front of the car.  The guy saw what Danny was doing before it even happened and immediately slammed on the brakes and jumped right in Danny's face, yelling at him and sticking his finger in his chest. Danny's body just started convulsing at the hips and he appeared to be paralyzed everywhere else.  The guy just kept cussing us out for what seemed like an eternity.  I didn't really know what to think.  I just figured that the guy had  literally scared the shit out of Danny.  Later on he gave me some clues as to what was happening and said the doctors told him that they couldn't really do anything but most likely he would grow out of it.

After a while, everyone in our group kinda knew about it and when it would happen someone would usually jokingly yell, "HUMP IT DANNY!" Actually, a lot of the time we'd use the F-word and we'd all bust out laughing.  Everyone else found out about it while waiting on the school bus in the mornings before school. For some reason it would always kick in when the school bus was pulling up.  I guess it was the sound of the bus slowing down or maybe because it was so big, however it would trigger his anxiety and then a funny look would come over his face and for about 5 seconds Danny would just dry-hump the air.  All the kids would be looking out the window at him because they knew it was about to happen.  Geez.  Looking back it must've been torture but he delt with it pretty well and gradually got over it for the most part. Lots of times he would stand way back away from everyone until the bus had stopped and then come running up to it.  It was his little prevention method.  After a while it got to the point where only things out of the ordinary would trigger it and most everyone forgot about it for the most part and not much was said.  I remember once when about 4 or 5 of us were riding our skateboards down one of the neighborhood hills and just for fun we all just started pretending to hump like Danny did while we were rolling downhill.  One of the neighborhood ladies was out in her yard and she was just shaking her head like we were delinquents, which in some ways I guess we were.  Danny didn't care for it when we would imitate him but he always played it cool and tried not to let it get to him. I think his parents told him that it was the only way to get over it.  Sometimes he would get into fights because of it but he could normally hold his own pretty well and that also cut down on people making fun of him. 

Another funny moment that comes to mind was back in the fifth grade. We had to write a poem for class and get up in front of everyone and read it.  When it was Danny's turn, he reluctantly walked up to the front of the class and before he ever started reading his poem that funny strain came over his face and then he uncontrollably started the famous pelvic thrust.  I could always tell when it was about to happen.  There would always be a small hesitation and then his lips would sort of tighten up right before the emotions came thrusting out of him. On that particular day in class, our buddy Victor, who was  sitting in the back, yelled out, "PUMP IT DANNY, PUMP IT!"  We were falling out of our chairs and the teacher made Danny go sit down and we all had quiet time while she took Victor to the office.  At recess we all got together to find out what happened to Victor.  He had gotten sent home with a note and his parents had to come up there. From that point on Danny was known as "PUMP IT" Danny.

The girls loved Danny. If they didn't know him then the whole pelvic thrusting thing would freak 'em out a little, but after they got to know him they overlooked it. Actually I think it made them more curious about him.  Looking back, I guess he was a pretty good looking kid.  He had some shaggy, sandy brown hair, a big sly grin, and when he laughed it was a really hard, loud, short burst. It sounded more like a big "KA-POW" than it did  laughter, and it had a harsh tone to it like it was directed toward something. Thats the best way I can describe it. He looked like something out of  Tiger Beat magazine during the 70's. I forget that it was the 70's. He  skateboarded and rode motorcycles and was just cool to the core. He loved listening to KISS. When his brothers were gone we would go up in their room and he'd crank up Doctor Love, which was the perfect theme song for him and his little pelvic thrusting condition. I also remember that he used to wear this ring that his dad made him out of a motorcycle spoke. I used to want one so bad.  The whole humping condition had actually faded away for the most part by the time we were in middle school. He had lived with it long enough that I guess he had sort of gained control over it. About this same time he and I weren't hanging out as much together. We were still good friends but were in different classes and didn't see much of each other. He and his family had moved to a different part of town and so hanging out after school didn't happen much and I rarely got to spend time with him. Occasionally he would come over to my house or vice versa to spend the night or ride bikes but for the most part we would only pass each other in the school hallway.

One of the last times I remember hanging out with him was when he and I double-dated to the Sadie-Hawkins dance in the 10th grade. He got to borrow his brother's JEEP that didn't have a top on it and we were going over to his date's house to pick up the girls.  It was a pretty nice neighborhood and we parked the JEEP on the side of the road in front of the house.  We had a pint of Southern Comfort under the seat and a 6-pack of Mountain Dew to mix it with. Makes me cringe just thinking about drinking that stuff now but back then we thought it was great. Not having any manners, we just walked straight through the front yard and over the flower bed to the door instead of going up the driveway.  Not exactly a jesture of class if her parents were watching us come to the front door. So we get to the front door and ring the door bell and it was one of those door bells that just rings on and on like church bells. The door finally opened and it was the father of Danny's date standing there with a stern look on his face like he didn't want to let us in, and rightly so.  He finally told us to come in and then he asked me my name and shook my hand, then he looked at Danny and stuck out his hand and said, "And you must be Danny?" When he reached out his hand toward Danny there was a slight hesitation on Danny's part. Honestly, it had never even entered my mind, as I had not seen the famous pelvic thrust for a long time, but then, that all too familiar strain came across his face, the lips began pulling tightly like a crack in the earth's crust, and then Danny started profusely thrusting his pelvis right toward her father. The man got this mad/confused look on his face and said, "Son, what are you doing?"  Of course that only made him more nervous, which resulted in more pelvic thrusts than I had seen in many years combined. Danny just turned around and bolted out the front door leaving me standing there by myself with her old man not knowing what to do or say.  Finally I decided I should bolt too and I casually opened the door like I was gonna go get him and then ran straight through the front yard, flower garden, and jumped into the JEEP, which was already moving.  We never even saw our dates, however I remember the split second right before I bailed, I heard his date running down the stairs yelling, "Daddy, he just does that!"  We drove the JEEP around for a while and then over to one of our old favorite hangouts, the water tower, and just drank the Southern Comfort, talked, and threw rocks. That's the last time I remember spending any quality time with him and I can't even remember the last time I saw him. 

From time to time when I'm working on a frame I'll think about him. He always comes to mind when it snows because snowballing cars was one our favorite things to do. He loved it.  We had the perfect spot in some trees that had vines growing all over them right down the street from my house.  It was on a little hill and the cars couldn't get stopped even if they wanted to.  Whenever we would hit one Danny would always let out that big, loud laugh of his and we'd wait a second to see if brake lights came on or not. From time to time someone would actually attempt to chase us but we had a trail cut out that went 2 or 3 different directions and nobody could even guess which way we had gone.  It felt like we owned that neighborhood back then, but today is feels more like Danny owned it.

Rest in peace Danno.  On second thought, PUMP IT Danny!











Friday, March 27, 2015

Taylor Made Frame

Just got done with the finish work on Scott Taylor's frameset.  Everything was pretty straight-forward on this build and went about as smooth as possible. A short trip to my hometown and a family visit delayed things a little bit but life is short and you gotta make time for family and friends.  I always have an idea of when I would like to have a frame done however you never know what may come up and so sometimes you have to reassess the situation. I'm super-fortunate that every customer I've had has been really patient and understanding and I do my best not to drag them along too badly.  I've been feeling like I was behind for the last couple of weeks so to get this one finished up and ready to paint I'm starting to feel like I'm getting back on track.  The days are longer and its getting warmer so I've been able to get a lot more done.  I immediately start to feel better once cold weather moves on out.  We have a little cold spell coming through right now but its only gonna last a couple of days and then we should be finished with the cold for good. Amen.

Let's go check this frame out,  but first I had an idea.

I've been thinking.  "Uh oh." I believe now would be a good time to bring back The Lance Chronicles.  Remember that show? You know, back when Lance Armstrong was basically an American super-hero and he was trying to save America from being destroyed by the Hitleresque Jan Ullrich. I could envision families, who had just discovered cycling, gathering around the tube with lowfat popcorn, while dad explained the entire scenario to his kids.

"Now kids, that is Lance Armstrong.  He is an american who loves everything pure and white.  He's trying to save us from that evil guy in the pink jersey named Jan Ullrich who I hear worships the devil."

Umm, sorry dad.  You got it all wrong.

Oh geez! I can remember sitting through one episode where Lance was showing us his newly remodeled condo in Spain, where apparently they had a code as to how big you could build.  Anyway, poor Lance just didn't have enough space for all his precious stuff and so he proceeded to tell the world how he basically bought off the mayor and turned two condos into one. 

I hated that show back then but now I think it would make for some interesting TV.  The show would open with LA laying on his sofa down in his basement with a week old beard and a gut poking out from under his torn Livestrong t-shirt.  He'd be watching old videos of himself giving Jan Ullrich "the look" while holding a beer and eating jelly beans, that he stole from a Team Jelly Belly Christmas party that he crashed a couple of years earlier, out of one of the Tour de France trophies that now sits on his coffee table.  Keep in mind that this is a purely fictional scenario, as I don't know if Lance has ever stolen any jelly beans or not.  In the background there would be cases of unopened Michelob Ultra (crap) stacked up in the corner with  lopsided yellow jerseys hanging on the wall. The old Trek that he won #7 on would be sitting on a trainer with a old, sweaty bib-short hanging from the bars. Am I being unfair? Not at all.  Uncreative?  Maybe. I'm just trying to think up a good pilot for all those retired neo-pro cyclists, that continually complain about how they got cheated out of victories and the chance to win a Tour "only if", to spend their evenings watching. Which is more than I should do.  What have they done for me? What about me? I only made it to Cat 2. Have they forgotten what that was like?  Let me remind them.  How about a more or less 8 hour car ride  in the Kansas City direction by yourself.  You're in the middle of Nowhereville and the only thing on the radio is a bunch of locals playing banjos and blowing in jugs.  You get to town and find a $100 hotel room around 10:30 p.m.  Now you're hungry and the only thing open within a small trek is Lucky's Lounge.  You wake in the morning and bust hump to get some breakfast in you, sign up, and pin a freakin number on by 8:00.  They say, "GO", and for two hours you grit your teeth like the tail of a kite only to get dropped 5 miles into the second 55-mile loop and ride the remainder of the 90 degree race into the wind by yourself. When you arrive, everybody is gone and the finish line has already been taken down. The only way you even know you finished is because you see your truck sitting in the middle of a field by itself with some wheels leaning on it that the wheeltruck guys left. I didn't get to raise my hands either cowboy, just my finger. Was it the dozen oysters on the half-shell and pecan pie that I had at Lucky's last night?  Who knows?  I just loaded up my stuff and drove down the field and turned out onto the road home anticipating 2 more hours of banjo and jug funk.  One last look over to where the finish line was and in the distance I can see another lone rider coming home. A little voice comes into your head as you're pulling away and says, "At least I kicked his ass!" And my celebration was stopping at Lucky's again on the way out for some more oysters.  They were out of pie.  Did Velonews call me up 15 years later and want to hear my story.  I don't think so.  I was telling everyone Lance Armstrong was a cunt in 1996, but nobody believed me.  They thought he was Jesus on a bicycle. Lowfat Popcorn Daddy stood in line all day with his kids waiting to get his copy of "It's Not About the Bike" signed, or whatever the title was. Who cares? I read it.  It was nothing. I used to be bitter toward Lance, but after Contador took his notebook from him mid-race, and proceeded to ride away with it up that mountain, my wounds immediately healed.  I've made my peace with Lance Armstrong, although its probably hard to tell while reading this. Wonder where Johan Bruyneel has been? Church of Scientology maybe?  If anyone sees him tell him his pot pie is burning.  

Supposedly Lance is going to do a charity ride during the Tour de France this year.  Geez!  Is he really that stupid?  Where's his mother at?  She needs to step in and just pull him aside and say, "Please son, don't do it. Take your kids camping in Yellowstone or something."

Ok.  I'm done.  C'mon y'all. Let's go check out some backyard pics.  Actually these were taken in my sideyard.  Didn't see all that coming did ya? I'm pushing for fortune and fame here.  One day I want to sell duffle bags with my name and a catchy phrase on them. 



Words...

words...

words...


words...

...hey there's a dog! Yeah, but check out those beefy chain stays. You couldn't flex those with your granny's 6-shooter.

True story.  I have a 6-shooter that my granny, Gran-Burt, God rest her soul, gave me.  The barrel has a bulge about half way down it, and the story goes something like this. 

 The gun had been sitting in the drawer (hopefully not the panty drawer) for dozens of years when she got it out to show some friends.  Well they started talking, and unfortunately thinking, and before you know it one of 'em said, "Let's shoot it!"  So my Gran Burt goes and gets a couple of bullets out of a different drawer, and one of the old-timers takes the pistol, loads it, and fires it at a tree about 15 feet away.  All the other old-timers start laughing and say,
 "You missed it.

 And he said,

 "There's no way! I can shoot a flea off a dog's arse at 50 paces after a fifth of whiskey."
So they started looking at the pistol and the bullet had gotten stuck half way down the barrel. And then they all looked at each other and said, "So now what do we do?"  And then, the smartest one of them (had the most teeth) actually took the pistol and shot it again to knock the bullet out. 

That's the story my granny told me.  All I know is that I've got an old 6-shooter with a bulge in the barrel.

My other grandmother, YaYa, lived in North Memphis and just kept a huge pipe by the door. My dad used to tell me, "YaYa can't speak English but she can sure swing that pipe."




This pic is actually from the last post but it's such a great photo I had to repost.  I'm probably gonna have to scuff it up just to get the primer to stick. To be perfectly honest, after seeing this picture there was a little jealous voice in my head that said, "You should keep this fork for yourself."  Don't worry Scoot.  This one is your's brother. 

Got a special paint job in store for this one.

Thanks for stopping by.