I Prefer Barry

Hello, my name is Brady.

No, it's not guy.

Nor is my name Dude, although I have a tee shirt that says so.

My name is simply Brady.

But Every once in awhile, somebody gets it wrong. That happened to me the other day, and it triggered an unfortunate memory and subsequent venting about That Guy Who Called Everybody Guy.

Don't fret. We're not going back there again today.

The other day, a colleague called me by the wrong name. He called me Barry. Twice, actually. This colleague travels frequently and is rarely in the office. Having returned from a long absence, he needed some assistance installing a printer to his new laptop. So while I was downloading the driver, we passed the time with the small chit-chat that normally occupies office space. He remembered that I was a cyclist and a swimmer. We talked about our families a little. Then, after successfully printing a test page, he thanked me for getting him hooked up. That's when he called me Barry.

I gave him the benefit of doubt. Perhaps the chatter of the printer made me mishear what he said. But then as we were walking out, he praised me again -- this time distinctly as Barry -- for my efforts.

It was okay. It wasn't the first time I've been called Barry.

Over the years, I've been called a lot of names besides Brady. The most common has been Brad. I hate being called Brad, but not nearly as much as I hate being called guy -- whoops, there's that guy word slipping in again. --  I'm surprised at how much I dislike being called Brad. It's a mystery because I have friends named Brad. I suppose it's because of the context. I'm usually called Brad by a bank teller or someone trying to sell me something. Uh sorry, but Brad's not going to be buying any Florida swamp land from you.

Besides Barry and Brad, I've also been called Grady, Bradley, Brandy, Braddy, and even Bob once. Bob? Here's how that one went:

Me: Hi, my name is Brady.

Them: Nice to meet you, Bob.

Me: Um, you too, guy.

Anyway, about this Barry thing. The first person to call me Barry was Mr. Conway, my high school religion teacher.

Mr Conway was an icon at St. Louis University High School. By the time I sat in his freshman theology class, Mr Conway had served in various roles in the school administration and taught nearly every subject. He had a wealth of experience and was an excellent teacher. The finer details, like remembering the name of another know-it-all-snot-nosed punk sitting in the second row, just wasn't that important to Mr Conway anymore. He just called it the way he saw it.

I can still picture him sitting behind that big old oak desk, his bright, wide eyes staring at me through his Mr Magoo-like glasses, while asking me something like, "How old did the Bible say Methuselah was, Barry?"

I had corrected him a couple times early in the semester. He'd call me by my proper name for a few weeks before being drawn back towards his old standby, Barry. So by the time we were through the Pentateuch, my new name, Barry, was firmly rooted. I/we all kind of got used to it. It was fine.

It was that way until late in the semester. We were studying the minor prophets, when classmate Leonard Shelton broke the silence. He just couldn't take it anymore.

Mr Conway: ...Popular belief is that the Bible says that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. But did the Bible really mention anything about a whale? What does the Bible say, Barry?

Barry/Me: The Bibl --

Leonard: -- MR CONWAY, HIS NAME IS BRADY. FOR GOODNESS SAKE, WHY DO YOU INSIST ON CALLING HIM BARRY?!!

Mr. Conway: Because he looks like Barry Manilow.



The classroom roared with laughter. Mr Conway lets everyone continue for a moment before raising his hand to silence the class

Mr. Conway: So what were you about to say, BARRY? Was there a whale?

Barry/Me: ... no, Mr Conway.The Bible never mentions anything about a whale, it just says a large fish swallowed Jonah.

Mr. Conway: Thank you, Barry. Now Leonard, come put your demerit card on the corner of my desk...

***

From way back then until till now, many years have passed since I've been called Barry. I still don't mind that one.

This much's for sure: being called Barry is much preferred over being called guy by the guy who called everybody guy.

Don't Be That Guy Who Calls Everybody Guy

Years ago, I met a person who called everybody 'guy'. His name was Vinnie, but for all intents and purposes for the remainder of the post, I shall refer to him as 'That Guy Who Calls Everybody 'Guy,'' or TGWCEG, for short.

Now some of you may guess where this is going. Yeah, yeah, so Brady knew a guy who called everybody guy. Big deal. Who hasn't met someone like that? But I'm telling you, TGWCEG was something special. Let me explain.

I was a college freshman when I met TGWCEG. He was a classmate who also lived on the same floor of the dorm I lived in. TGWCEG was immediately one of the most popular kids in the school.

He was also the most hated.

I came to find out in short order that it didn't matter if you were an acquaintance who and hadn't seen him in years, or if you just met him for the first time. Regardless of the circumstance, he'd slip you a cold fish for a handshake and say, 'how's it going, guy?'

Yessch.

Yes, it was amazing. TGWCEG would walk down the campus and greet everybody that way. It didn't matter of you were male or female. 'Guy' was that -- uh -- guy's go-to word for all people in all occasions.

Like this:
To me, upon our first meeting: How's it going, guy?
To a former girlfriend, on her first meeting: How's it going, guy?
To the tenured professor, right before midterms: How's it going, guy?
To the University's President, at commencement: How's it going, guy?...

TGWCEG was incredible. I mean, the kid was either extremely confident or simply stupid. I never bothered to find out because he grated on my nerves so much.

He grated on everybody's nerves.

Imagine being his roommate. TGWCEG's first dorm roommate only lasted a couple weeks before dropping out of school.

His second roommate lasted a little longer. Once, when TGWCEG was away for the weekend, roommate #2 had a few of us over for pizza. He needed to vent. While we ate and listened, roommate #2 nearly broke down and cried while talking about the living arrangement. Later, when we thanked him for the food, roommate #2 confessed that the pizza was paid for by taking TGWCEG's chemistry book and selling it back to the bookstore earlier that day.

Unfortunately, roommate #2 didn't make it to the end of the semester either. After that, TGWCEG had a private room.

Anyway, something triggered a memory of the guy who called everybody guy, today. I feel better now having expressed this. Thank you for allowing me the space to vent. Whew! That was needed.

So what have we learned here today? Unless you want your possessions sold for someone elses' pizza, don't be that guy who calls everybody guy.

Gravel Worlds 2011 Recap

Around 100 riders of this year's Gravel Worlds rolled out of the Lancaster Event center in darkness and thick humidity to cover 153.7 miles of mostly gravel roads near Lincoln this past Saturday. A double pace line continued for much of the first 15 miles. The beginning of the race is always exciting, rubbing elbows with many friends. Excitement is high. Lots of smiles and chatting. That part of racing never lasts long enough.

Then we hit the first of many minimum maintenance roads (MMRs). Minimum maintenance roads are country roads without gravel. And since it rained much the night before and was wet throughout the week, the MMRs were basically a ribbon of thick, unrideable mud. But the first section of mud that we hit was relatively dry. That section was actually still a gravel road that had a very short dirt section. Somebody inspired by rideable condition called out, "the gravel gods are smiling on us today". We'd soon find out otherwise.

At the first real MMR, the mud was so thick that nobody could ride it. In the lead group, two had their rear deraileurs snapped off. Everyone was forced to portage their bikes while thick, viscous mud caked shoes. It was like hiking through peanut butter.

The first checkpoint of Valparaiso followed. Leah Kleager was there. It was the first of many times that I gladly accepted her support throughout the race. Some may say that having a support vehicle is not in the spirit of such an event. They might be right. But then again this is the Pirate Cycling League, people. Yeah, it fits inside the pirate's code of ethics. Anyway, thanks Leah, that was huge.

While we were refueling in Malcolm, Jim Winklepleck and Chris Hansen slipped away quietly. Shim, Lucas and I were soon on the chase. The second MMR followed about 10 miles later. While we were hiking through it, Eric Brunt comes riding down the center of the mud. He was on a single speed and just made up huge ground on us. I stood with jaw agape while Lucas called out, "Nice job, Eric." He made the selection. Soon, we were cleaning our bikes and riding again. We stayed together most of the way to Malcolm, where we caught up with Chris Hansen. Hansen hadn't seen Winklepleck so we were now at the lead of the race.

Hansen, also on a single speed, rode out of Malcolm solo. Shim, Brunt and I followed. Lucas was inside filling bottles and had to burn some matches to catch back on. Hansen took some long pulls while I was thinking, what's up with these single speeders? It was amazing.

At about 80 miles, Brunt attacked. Again, another shocker: a single speeder was attacking three guys on geared bikes. But there he went, blazing a trail while we watched. He was pulling away at good speed. After awhile, I went up front to bring him back. I took a long pull. While doing so, Shim said that Lucas and Hansen dropped off. Shim came around for a turn. After my next pull, I could no longer hold onto Shim's wheel. He went ahead while I sat up and waited for Lucas and Hansen.

The three of us rode in together to the secret checkpoint Oasis at mile 102. By that time, Shim and Brunt had six minutes on us. After refueling, we hit the road as Dale Pinkelman pulled up. Soon, Pinkleman was closing in on us. I picked up the pace and ended up going solo beyond the next checkpoint in Hickman (mile 115) and until I caught Eric Brunt at a MMR around 130 mile marker. Eric had GI issues and had to let Shim go ahead.

From there, the two of us rode together to the finish. At one point, we actually saw Shim. I told Eric that I had already helped pull Shim back in a race earlier in the year and I wasn't going to help if he tried. Eric was cool with that. We agreed to ride in together and not let anyone catch us. It was good riding with you, Eric. You rode very well Saturday.

Shim had finished 7 minutes before us. Gravel Worlds Champion can now be added to his list of palmares. Congratulations, Shim.


Greg Shimonek, Gravel Worlds Champion 2011

Thanks to the PCL for all the work required to put this on. We're grateful for your efforts and will look forward to next year's event.

Hello Gravel Worlds

I'm intrigued. I'm excited. I'm all in.

150 miles of Gravel Worlds goodness awaits 08/20/2011.

Happy Friday, everyone.

The Art of the !Pro (commoner's) Build

As somebody mentioned before, the devil is in the details. And though I've marveled at the art of the pro build, I've never worked at a bike shop to hone my bike building skills. Come to think of it, I don't believe that I've ever honed anything. Regardless, if MOD is the Michelangelo of Pro bike builds, then I'm that PBS guy with curly hair who water colors a grove of trees next to a lake.

Anyway, whether or not I've honed anything isn't the point. What I'm trying to say is that you can ride a decent looking cyclocross (CX) bike -- and on the cheap -- if you put a little effort into it. Here's how I did it.

A couple years ago, my friend Mike Miles overheard me pining about getting into cyclocross. Now Miles is a purveyor of bicycle goods. He's not quite on the level of your local bike shop, but chances are, he's got what you're looking for.

The CX Frame
Miles produced a Scattante CX frame and fork that was collecting cobwebs in his garage. A Scattante frame wouldn't have been my first choice, but like they say, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Or in my case, don't look a gift CX frame in the headset, because when I did, I discovered that the integrated headset's bearing was missing. That's bad. But a quick call to Performancebike produced a headset in the mail a few days later, free of charge. I was impressed. That's better service than I would have expected from an online retailer.

Anyway, I decided to customize the frame. Choosing the color was easy for me because I have a fetish for yellow bicycles. I stripped it myself ($8) and then had it powdercoated signal-yellow for $40. I like the powercoat look. Its elegance is its simplicity. And powdercoating is bombproof. There's no need for frame protectors bespoken from branded bar tape provided by sponsors.

The rest of the CX stuff
I asked around some more. With Jim Maaske I bartered a set of well used Rolf wheels, handlebars and avid shorty brakes in exchange for regular barbs towards Shim on this blog. Which reminds me, what four letter word begins with a J and ends in E-R-K? Answer: SHIM. Ka-ching! There's another payment in the books.

From Munson, I acquired a front brake lever, a used nine speed Tiagra brifter, an Ultegra triple chainring with razor sharp teeth and a very worn in set of Vittoria cross tires.

What I contributed: the rear derailleur, pedals and chain, all castaways from Old Yeller.

Now here's the important part. I didn't have the tools or the whereabouts to get all of these parts assembled onto the bike. So what I did was to have the Omaha Trek Store do that for me.

Since I did the project on a small budget, I was able to add a Salsa Ring Dinger bash guard and an N-gear Jump Stop to keep the chain in place on race day. I estimate that I spent $500 on the project, and about a quarter of that was for labor at the shop. And of the amount that I spent on labor, about 15% of that was spent on beer to keep the mechanics happy. That's smart money, right there.

My CX bike may not look like much, but it's been great fun to have. I've raced it, banged out some long winter gravel rides on it, and have used it as a dirty commuter.

There you go, the art of the !Pro (commoner's) build. If I can do this, you can too.

Happy Friday, everyone.