Sad Vacation Rad Vacation

Step right through Door #43. Welcome to my room. Been a long time, kids.

Remember: Believe none of what you hear, and only half of what you see. This, most likely, is advertising. We snuck it in on you. It's viral marketing, which is why you feel sick. You've got the virus.

So where have I been? I took a sad vacation.

"You were so misunderstood/ You could've been anything you wanted to." Dolores, Kristina, and I took a trip to Parkersburg, WV for a funeral. Kristina's brother and Dolly's uncle, Michael Zinnen, killed himself a couple months ago. Parkersburg, WV is depressing in its own right, but extra specially so on this trip.

Why not some photos, then? These were all taken with my cell phone.

Dolly in the Detroit airport. They've got this mood lighting/music tunnel, like O'Hare in Chicago. I know Detroit is a dump, though I've never experienced it. Their airport, however, is a really bitchin' shopping mall/art installation.

They have not forgotten things in Parkersburg. The War of Northern Aggression and Dale Earnhardt will live forever:

Foodland. Another bitchin' night in WV:

Found this series of T-shirts in Gabriel's, which is like Ross. I think they've got pretty much all the bases covered. Who knew that love could have so many gorgeous manifestations?

The Julia Ann Historic District had some amazing old mansions. Parkersburg is the kind of place that if you're young and you can, you get the fuck out of. If you're old, you die there. No one is coming. These mansions will all be empty sooner than later. Wish I'd brought my actual camera with me, but the phone pics aren't too bad:

I'm sure this magazine is available elsewhere, but it felt special in WV. Nothing is hotter than a pair of hot tits in an angora sweater on a girl that will stab you in the fucking face for looking at them.

This is the street I stayed on. You can tell things get really hopping here:

Downtown. Bumping!

Masons rule the world:

Sixty Nine, Bitches!

This staircase is in a former public library turned bookstore. They had a couple great cats in there:

Thankfully, after a week in the glorious Ohio River Valley, I came back, stayed a night in SF, and headed off to Woodward West for Steve Swope's 2nd Annual Old School Jam. Place is amazing. Here, the legendary Maurice "Drob" Meyer explains "protecting the sack" and the intricacies of coaster brake at the meet-up point, a Mickey D's in Castro Valley:

Mat Fuckin' Hoffman, being interviewed for Fuel TV by Catfish. So good to see him ride again: huge can-can lookbacks, smooth flairs and 540s. BMX owes a lot to Mat. Welcome back Condor.

The Condor's Condor. The paint looked almost black without a flash, but was red underneath the darker clear coat.

Fuckin' legends. Mat Hoffman, Ron Wilkerson, Mike Dominguez:

Lee Reynolds:

Jay Eggleston annihilated. Rolled in, 12 feet on the next wall--boom. Effortless. It amazes me Jay hasn't won more vert contests, but when you're going against guys like Jamie Bestwick, you take what you can get.
Mike D can still blast:

Brian Blyther:

Ron Wilkerson:

Coco Zurita. I'm seriously doubting Coco made the minimum age cut off for the Old Man Jam, but he teaches at Woodward, so I guess they let him slide:

Rich "Spiderman" Sigur was in the house, on a '90s Hoffman Condor with new school Skyway Graphites. The bike weighed in the 50 pound range:

San Jose's own Damian "Squirrel" Schinella, handling bidnazz on the big ramp:

Vince "V-Dogg" Torres took the plunge on the 13 1/2 foot vert ramp:

Finally, I don't know the following cats, but anyone who nuts up to dropping in on that beast is a hero in my book. As Drob said to me, "I think it helps if you ripped back in the day."

More pics from Hangar 18. Tod Anderson still kills it, as evidenced by this power mower on the mini ramp sub box. Coaster brake! Not only were brakes all over the place, most people had fronts and there were at least a half dozen coasters. Now that's fuckin' old school.

Ben Snowden with a transfer from the mini to the bowl. Ben is a great rider, but mid-school at best.

Rooftop, another mid-school interloper, kills it. He's one of the funnest guys to watch ever, and seems like a real nice guy. This was some kind of 540 tail tap on the sub box:

Transfer from the bowl to an abubuca on the quarter:

Goods BMX's Shad Johnson with a sweeper footplant:

I tried my hand at backflips into the foam pit. I nearly got it around, but kept jumping ship at the last second and burying myself in the foam. Getting out of that shit is a way harder workout than P90x. These next two shots are from Dennis Dowling:

This one looks like some kind of one-handed Statue of Liberty flair:

Mike Dominguez crash test dummy:

We out here. And we still grillin'...

Photo sesh at Enterprise:

Ron W's van in the parking lot, snow on the mountains:

Squirrel heckled us for talking about food before we left, but check these motherfuckin' bone-in ribeyes and lobster tails. You know how we do...

Butter makes it better:

Salty Sam and Josh:

Iain and Trent. Trent was wearing a dress most of the time, but this was before he got dolled up.

Now that's a party: beer and dirty meat packaging.

Sean "Capt. Brownie" Parker:

Here we talk about Nina Buitrago and contemplate making Trent dress in drag so it won't look so damned dude-i-full in the lodge room:

Saturday night's party:

Check the sticker/T-shirt design. Pretty sano:

And the nametags:

Rich Sigur was really cool to talk to. He told me the story of getting signed to Haro by Bob Haro himself, who he thought was just some annoying surfer guy who asked too many questions; and how Bob Osborn gave him the nickname "Spiderman."

Marlo and Aaron:
Christian from Cream Magazine, Josh, and Marlo:

Got Hoffman's autograph in my Freestylin' book, as well as Eddie Fiola, Mike Dominguez, Brian Blyther, Tod Anderson, Pete Augustin...the list goes on. When Mat Hoffman tells you to "Keep the dream alive," that's a fuckin' obligation, you know? "In dreams begin responsibilities."

Dave Nourie busted out on the dancefloor:

You know he had to pull a Gumby:
And a Nourie stand. Check the abs:

Iain gooning before we left:

The SF Crew (with a couple East Bay types):

Josh, Danny, and Sam--the original Bicycle Source team:

Here's some videos of the event that have been lighting up the interwebs:

If you haven't got enough of the old man jam, be sure to check out photos by Jared Souney, Dennis Dowling, and Josh Klavir, each of whom have way more photo skills than me.

What else? I've been back a week now, almost, and I'm totally dog dick broke. My unemployment check got lost in a Wizard of Oz vortex, and I've only paid half of my rent. I'm selling a couple bikes--my Mongoose EC-X four cross bike, and a Fly Pantera 2 BMX, so get at me if you need a new ride.

I was interviewed for the Wall Street Journal because of my free burrito tattoo. Apparently Marta from Casa Sanchez has opened it up again for people to get the tattoo again. Tuesday I might be getting interviewed by AP about it...free burritos are a godsend now, but money would be nice too...who's hiring?

Nyquist has another Warriors of Wood planned. I don't mean to seem like a Negative Nancy, but hopefully this one won't cost $15 to get into. Last time I took Dolly and my nephew Jake: $45 to watch BMX is cost prohibitive for a lot of people, especially people who aren't already into BMX. I think you could turn a lot more kids/families onto the sport if the entry was something more reasonable like five bucks. The contest was held in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and it seemed to me that almost no local kids were there. We'll see how it breaks down this year.


Here's a photo with questionable focus I took on a point and shoot at last year's WOW:

And we're out. Two weeks between bloggities is two too many. These things are fuckin' unweildy. How about some random cell phone snaps?

Dolly and Bo dog at Ocean Beach:

Lonely beach ball:

Don't know who painted this, but it's ace:

Cherry blossoms:

Topiary devilry at the Devil's Whorehouse. Come alive in the house that screams!

Dolores and her friend Bel, rocker chicks:

Spring has sprung for Bo Diddley:


Jive Handles forever, bitches! These are actually EZ Jives with the ends cut off. You work with what the Lord and eBay give you:

Gone back to big sprockets. Man size. This is a Tree 37, which surprisingly fits on my frame. Remember when 39-14 was a "micro gear"?

Trust me, baby. It's more fun for your mouth. The most fun.

Okonomiyaki from Genki. This was the "sumo" with bacon and cheddar cheese. The bacon was fucking raw. Total drag. Genki is still good though, but I won't fuck with this again.

This is a hoarder house next door to Laura's. You can see rooms stacked with random shit from her back porch. I love the angst and hip-hop syntax: "This be some bullshit." "20 yrs since I've been put on this hell we call earth." Really? 20 years? That's an awful long time, Obi Wan. Hope you pull through.

Back at the Buck. Devon with the Groucho glasses Micah left from his party. I don't know the guy--Micah, that is, not Dev--and I'm sure he's a mensch, but I'm against party props. They had it all: Groucho glasses, toy nunchuks, inflatable battle axes, stupid hats, one of those Lark scooters for old people, and tons of fucking confetti that's still turning up a week later. Oh, and shitty ass house DJs...blech. It's a punk rock bar, assholes. When you need props to party, you're trying to convince yourself you're having fun. Dive in there--get loose. Do you really need a Captain's hat to feel the moment?

Graf that turned up in the head when I was in WV. When Rick's slutty sis Katie comes to town, it ain't no fun unless the homies get some.

Colleen smoking a butt through Metal Bob's septum:

This is fuckin' awesome. A customer found this at an estate sale and thought Shanti would be into it since he's got every kind of stuffed dead animal imaginable. She thought it was a dog, which it kind of looks like with Andy's hat and shades. Thing is actually a black bear with almost all the hair worn off: we dubbed it Cancer Bear. I don't know what you have to do to a head mount to wear the hair off. The mind boggles.

I didn't take this photo, but I wish I did. Talk about a wash and wax. And there's BBQ: BBQ KING LOVES AMERICA. One stop shopping. Imagine the freedom of getting your car washed, eating ribs, and getting a hand job: at the same time.