Al here. What's with everyone killing himself lately?
Anyway, Freddy Boy and I blew off a production meeting at the mine and pumped out some miles. It was overcast and breezy (through one section of the ride it was downright WINDY). Freddy and I did a nice 30 miles keepin' the pace up for a good portion of the ride. I'm getting more and more used to the aero rig. I feel fast on the thing, but I miss the classic geometry of my old Lemond Zurich.
Blowing off the Bronx 1/2 this Sunday. I probably could do it and be all right, but I just think it will be wise to wait a little while (allow a little more recovery time) before competing.
7 comments:
Moveitfred killed himself three times today.
It was cool.
Al,
Kind of a douchey blog post. You aight?
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Moveitfred
Heywood,
What the fuck? Let's hear about it, Douchebag.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Moveitfred
Boston - ha, that's an almost famous. Solobreak actually did a four month stint working for Tom Schultz back in 83, soldering together Rockman's, a sort of portable effects/amplifier thing that he developed so that he could play his guitar while sitting in his first-class airline seats. Met a lot of 2nd and 3rd tier rockstars because our workshop was in the old Cambridge music complex, which was a band practice area/rumpus room. Good times. Ask me about the Moet and cheesecake Clapton sent by Fedex sometime... How's that for shameful name dropping?
Al - Carl Hart? I saw some other boat people race the first week in June too. What's the sched look like? Either of you two ready for Palmer? KL is supposed to have her whole team there...
I think it was actually Scholz...
Solo, Tell me about the Moet and cheesecake Clapton sent by Fedex.
Al, go kill yourself.
There were about six of us working one night (this was not a crew of early risers). It was a friggin' blizzard outside. Joyce Chen, Aku Aku, even Ma Magoos were closed due to the storm (only Cambridgites like CTodd would know those places, and even he may be too young). But they were where we normally got dinner.
So we're doing our thing, which was adding a few capacitors and resistors to the boards, along with changing one chip. TommyBoy was paranoid that the contract vendor who built the boards would steal his design and sell it out to someone else, and that's why we had jobs performing these silly mods. The contractor never got to see the real design.
After our usual 5 pm visit to the ganja room, of course we're fucking starving. With all the local restaraunts closed, our situation was pretty bleak. We're hanging out and bumming. Back out on the porch for another break, the headlights of a Fedex truck miraculously appear on the horizon, and a big package to Tom (who we rarely saw) with a sender "E. Clapton" arrives.
Curiosity being what it was (and the possibility this was a kilo of something), we tore the fucker open in a heartbeat. Inside, along with a note thanking Tom for some complimentary Rockman's Clapton had apparently received, was a 5 lb, 2 oz Baby Watson cheesecake, and two bottles of Moet and Chandon, real good stuff, like $140+ 1983 dollars each. We would not go hungry...
The best part of the story is the one thing that was not cancelled that night was the Celtics game. Ron, our manager, had season tickets, and he left his large white German Sheperd with us when he was at the games. I don't remember the dog's name, but he drank more of the champagne than any of us does. I don't think Tom ever found out about it.
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