Monday, 4 August 2014

Mr Newdick for something new.

Just a side note to start, the average speeds clocked in the screenshot on the right go some way to proving there may be a drug or two left in cycling.
But moving on at 137.6 km/h.

Melbourne registered it's coldest morning in 16 years the other day. Colder than a snowman's nose.
Wait...not his nose cause that's a -
I mean his arms. Colder than his....no wait - hat, colder than his...forget it.

Stupidly, my brother and I had organised the night previous to get out for a ride.
When we left it was 1.5 degrees celsius or 34.7 farenheit for those of you lost in an Imperial world.

Now I know a thing or two about heat, and particularly heat in vests.
Yes, that's me dashingly modelling the Heller Heated Vest Size Small in the image below.
You can tell my Model Game is on point by the hooked thumb in my back pocket. Nice. That cheeky little maneuver opens up the chest. Can't you tell?

(NB: The picture below was taken by a family member who found it in a bargain bin at their local bargain shop. I strongly insisted that there must have been a mistake with both shipping and handling for it to end up there. These puppies are in high demand I'll tell you.)

So no, not that heated vest, but a lovely new Endura Windchill II Gilet. That, paired with a long sleeve over the top was enough to keep the core warm. It didn't however, prevent a localised spat between heart and fingers.

I get the feeling my heart has something against my fingers. As if they're the 10 'mistakes' or unwanted children that should never have been had. It's the first place the blood stops pumping when the mercury bottoms out. My heart tends to cut them off faster that a drinker in rehab. As a result, they go numb, and then hurt - so bad. Maybe the only way out of this is to Bear Grills it, gut a few cute and fluffy animals I find in the wild and wear them instead. I mean, I've seen the show but never really considered it as a viable option until now.

Changing topics but sticking with the hand theme, on this ride I frequented the little boys room and AGAIN, saw a man not wash his hands before he left. Granted he hadn't sat down to do the hefty stuff and was in and out in a jiffy (in a number of ways you might say), but surely you've still gotta wash the digets on exit? I see this a lot with men. Considering the most commonly used form of introduction around here is with a handshake, it makes me wary of any man I greet. It's hardly appropriate just before shaking to ask:

"Hi there mate, quick double-barrell to start. Have you (a) used the loo recently and, if so (b) given the old 5 headed hydras a wash following said use?"

I may be coming across as a bit of a germaphobe here and forgetting the days when mud was a staple on my lunchtime menu, but the germs in mud are from the crotch of the earth, not the crotch of another man. I rest my case. https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeGvpivxAz0FruDjIaKEYfdxGg7ZUmv37TBcGSSZKBjqO1-pWH1SkjuE-uyoPer7SqhWmFFq-6iRUCFtqqCid8VAsHkWVf94KW_bBViy1qcqxVtm36CHJgpPEIlTK8me7AKpsL6-taDE/s1600/Brent+Newdick.jpg

In other news, away from cycling, we recently had the Commonwealth Games, a mini-olympics for all the nations in the world that - way back when - Britain said "Yep, we'll have you." Watching the athletics one night, my friends noticed this particular New Zealand gentleman.


Now I don't understand people like the English woman who renamed herself Pink Sparkly and All Things Nice. But if Brent wants to go ahead and backtrack on what mum and dad thought'd be great at the time, then he's got my support.

"Hi, I'm here for my appointment."
"Name?"
"Brent."
"Ah yes, Newdick was it?"
"No, no, just a checkup."

And in that instant everyone in the waiting room thinks, "Poor bastard, this world wasn't made for men packing a small punch."

The other thing about Brent's name that fascinates me is the fact that they're from New Zealand. As far as I can tell, the Kiwi accent would go some way towards masking the R. That can't be a good thing when using the full name. 
No wonder he's a sprinter, he probably got all his training running away from bashings every lunchtime. 

Good one Mr and Mrs Newdick.





Monday, 28 July 2014

The What I've Got Review: FYXO water bottle

Branching off from the success of the first What I've Got Review it's time to delve once more into the critical world of Cycling paraphernalia.
Welcome back to….

The What I've Got Review

For those oblivious to what this is, it's basically me reviewing 'what I've got', cause no one else is particularly desperate for me to have a look at what they've got.

Today, it's my FYXO water bottle.
Should be pretty simple. Considering it's a water bottle. Just a good ol' water bottle for holding water.

SIGNIFICANT FEATURES:

Well um...it's got a -…um…I mean, it's a water bottle. So that's pretty significant. Fits well in the bottle cage on my bike, which is good.



If I can cycle is now on Facebook, check it out!

AESTHETICS:

The silky contours that round off beautifully from top to bottom provide a unique bottle of exquisite quality. A gently ribbed band just below the tender neckline offers excellent grip for the user and gently massages fingertips during use depending on your glove of choice. A warm and stylishly designed logo wraps around the body of the bottle protecting, and proudly displaying, a fixation with the FYXO brand. Doubling the impact of bold branding is the translucent plastic design, which also offers a practical use to the cyclist in monitoring their levels of refreshing, hydrating h2o. I can personally vouch for the bottle's ability to take direction in a photo shoot and engage seamlessly with a range of different effects, flaunting a prowess that would befit Cycling's Next Top Model were such a competition to exist.



Read my previous post: The light at the end.

QUALITY:

Good. Yeah, works well. Cap opens comfortably in your teeth when on a ride. Squirts water out with an even pressure but not over the top. Easy to unscrew when you wanna fill it back up, even for real cyclists who have no upper body muscle. Alternatively, if you are having trouble getting it open you could probably just clamp it between your trunks and do it that way, might leave a bit of a taste though, which can't be good…or just maybe it can…?

SUMMARY:

In summary I'm gonna go ahead and say that it probably wasn't the best choice. For the review I mean. There's only so much you can say about a water bottle and while I tried to jazz it up verbally in the middle there I got left stretching unsuccessfully for the excitement. Kinda like a group of friends turning to strip poker when the party's dying. That's not to suggest I've played strip poker with my water bottle by the way, it refused to deal the cards arguing a lack of opposable thumbs made it difficult, so I gave up.

Thanks for reading!









Sunday, 27 July 2014

The light at the end.

Well it's almost over.
Le Tour that is, which means time for my last EPO jab.

Day 23. EPO shot 12/12. "Tlaking si ettging hrader. Oot mnay durgs. Cna't cnotrol ym jwa."

That's gonna have to be the last jab to the gut for a while me thinks. A shot every 2 days is probably overdoing it. Not to mention that every time I go to the toilet now it's like shooting a flare to attract all drug-testers in the area, and all I leave is an acid-burnt bowl in my wake.

So this tour, if we're being honest, and let's be honest, come on guys, let's all be a little bit honest with each other right now. And ourselves. Honest. Not a great tour. Not the best. Bit dull at times. Nibali proved too strong for anyone to mount a serious challenge and with the Froome-dog and Contador gone, so too went the excitement of the mountains. Sometimes it just didn't seem worth the early mornings, I had to be up at 4am the other day and managed to stay awake through until the stage finished that night at 2am. That's 22hours of dedication right there. All to watch Nibali saunter his way to a mountain-top win, with 0% threat of snapping a hamstring. 

For those reading outside Australia, channel SBS (our tour broadcaster), normally shows European movies that double as soft porn late at night, (the channel is notoriously known as Soccer Before Sex, or maybe it's the other way around), but during July this gets bumped so that they can show a different sort of porn. Bike porn. No protests from my corner.
Pinarello for example, a bicycle brand that I've never been a massive fan of, have provided me with untapped visual joy within the Dogma F8. What a bullet.

Image source

At the other end of the spectrum, I sincerely hope that somewhere in the world a primary school student won a 'design Nibali's bike' competition. His nickname's 'The Shark', I get that. I don't get the Bad Boy brand inspired shark eye and mouth decals at the front of the bike (see below). Does he get teased in the peloton riding this thing?

"Cool shark Vincenzo, you geek."
"Shut up mate, I'm winning Le Tour."
"Who cares? You look stupid."

And with that the grand tour win is empty, because what's winning the biggest bike race in the world if you're always gonna get picked last playing T-ball?

Image source

In other news, I went for a ride the other day [award for most exciting start to a sentence goes to me], and saw some fantastical things as is so often the case riding around Melbourne.

Pretty sure the pic below speaks for itself.



Church posters never seem to disappoint in my area, this one's no exception…



An extraordinarily dramatic and somewhat ambiguous view of the recently finished Football World Cup. This brilliant church also gave me great joy approximately a year ago when they had this poster up…


Whatever the marketing department's getting paid, double it.

And whatever the following marketing department's getting paid, halve it. The Commonwealth holiday of Boxing day is celebrated on December 26, this photo was taken July 27, making this poster 207 days late coming down, or 152 days early in going up. Looks like the lights are on but nobody's home. 
Hey hey 'BaDoomChsh'. That's my poor attempt at the drum joke sound.



So until the next round of happy days and fun times keep enjoying whatever it is you do.

Thanks for reading,



Previous post: The tour has balls literally





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