Let 'er rip, kid

First let's get this part our of the way; It's been a while. Hi, how are you? Anyone still there?

If the answer is yes and anyone still checks this neglected corner of the internet, you're probably wondering what's been cooking since my weather and finance-related depression wore off somewhere in early summer.

A new focus on a job that suddenly pays more than teenager wages means I've raced less than ever over a Portland summer, which still adds up to ten times more than a Colorado summer. PIR's aplenty, some Thursday racing and the old Friday night standby have done me well this year. I've won some, I've lost plenty, and now the legs are starting to show a bit of form. Both Portland and Seattle AVC's were far less than stellar, but a good 3 months away from my season's goals, so I'm not worried. One nice thing about the Portland AVC was finally getting on the records board with mini-sprinter Andy Williams and Kevin Mansker in the team sprint. That felt good. Been plotting a way to get on that board ever since I started racing at Alpenrose 10 years ago.

I've been doing this for 10 years now? I haven't done anything for 10 years except breath in, breath out.

The fall/winter is hurtling around the corner too fast to stop it, and what a season it'll be. Aaron Tuckerman officially becomes my brother before the eyes of God and Hops two weeks from yesterday. Party we will, and Cassie will hang her head in shame if she realizes what she's doing. Shortly after the vows are swapped and the family pictures are snapped I'm climbing in a Land Rover and booming down to LA for a few weeks of training under the watchful eye of Jamie Staff and a week of National Championship racing. I'm not even close to being able to afford this, but I see it as something I can't afford to miss, so some great friends are throwing a sweet party that everyone on the continent should come to:



Come lift some kegs, throw some stuff around, drink some beer and donate some money if you can. It'll be great and I appreciate every little bit of help I can get to keep chasing this strange, adolescent dream.

After the Los Angeles excursion it's back to Amsterdam for more Six Days, more derney smoke, "stand up for the champions," "born in the USA," spotlights, stroopwafels, trackstands, too much coffee, long flights, lost bikes, long nights, high speed trains, a short break, then rinse and repeat for the Six of Rotterdam. Hey ho, let's go.