Where's Heywood?

Sprinting through flames?

Rescuing those who blunder?

Or, perhaps, giggling at the bottom of a girl pile?

Friday With Fred

Gorgeous day in the neighborhood today, kids, and Moveitfred had a wide-open schedule. Moveitfred returns to the factory next week. He is looking forward to seeing his boss and all the smiling faces of his co-workers as they return to begin a new production cycle. Even our good friend Al should be back to the grind soon enough, adding his own special mayhem to the mix.

After some jerking around this morning while waiting for the drizzles to clear out of the area, Moveitfred prepped for a road ride on the Serotta. Moveitfred switched out his wheels before the ride, removing his Speed Dreams and replacing them with the trusty, beat-'em-up Open Pros. The Speedies are cool hoops, but there is something comforting about the OPs. Moveitfred's got the standard 3 cross, DT spokes and Record hubs to round out the package. Nothing fancy, just damn nice, solid wheels. Can Moveitfred get an Amen for Mavic?

Moveitfred got out for a modest 2 1/2 hours. The legs were a bit sluggish after doing a little ILT on the trainer last night. Rewind prior to last night and earlier in the day Moveitfred went out on a recon ride on the mtb with Callin' All Clarkes to a local patch of woods in town. Turned out to be a less than spectacular find. The trail was not marked and difficult to figure out. Moveitfred was fucking bamboozled half the time. There were lots of tight, technical sections that caught Moveitfred by surprise and caused him to do the dab and crawl. In all, it was fucked up and the two boys bailed out early.

But today, nice. Again, pleasantly mild here on the island paradise. Now, Moveitfred has no fucking idea how to do the movie shit that all the other clever mofos out there seem to be getting into, so Moveitfred is going to pass along a few old school photogs for your viewing pleasure.

Moveitfred calls this: Bike Shit On The Porch

Moveitfred calls this: Kneel On Front Porch/Put Shoe On/Shoot Sky

Moveitfred calls this: Heywood Jablome Memorial Hole

Moveitfred calls this: Scary Tree Limbs Tickle Port Jeff Harbor
Moveitfred calls this: Dead People In Historic Cemetery

Moveitfred calls this: Approximately Equal To A Roof Collapse
Moveitfred calls this: Misguided Snot on Leg Wiped With Glove

A Fred-trospective

Fred Through the Years

OK Willy...

Have you posted this one yet?

Fucking Mr. Original, are you?

Armstrong is a pimp

Lance in France

Moveitfred is a bitch

Well, Moveitfred's a bitch, he's a big fat bitch,
he's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world,
he's a stupid bitch if there ever was a bitch,
he's a bitch to all the boys and girls.

Monday he's a bitch, on Tuesday he's a bitch,
and Wednesday to Saturday he's a bitch,
then on Sunday just to be different he's a
super King Kamehameha be-atch.

Have you ever met my friend Moveitfred,
he's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world,
he's a mean old bitch and he has stupid hair,
he's a bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch,

bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch cause-a
he's a stupid bitch,
Moveitfred's a bitch and he's just a dirty bitch,
Moveitfred is a bitch-ah.


--Heywood Jablome

Over the Hills and Through the Woods

Moveitfred sez:

Took to the mountain bike trail out at Calverton this morning with Al Bangorhard and C.C. Rider for some off-road, high-speed fun. This was the coming out party for Cracky--Al's new mountain bike (see below for the story of Cracky).

Here we see fred's bike and Cracky leaning against fred's bad-ass, muthafuckin' Camry wagon.

Although Moveitfred did recommend his type of basic, no-nonsense bicycle to Al as something most excellent for thrashing through the woods, fred had pleaded with Al to get a bicycle with some originality, some difference. Well, as we can see, Al went and got the exactofuckamundo same bike as fred--same brand, same model, same color, same components, same wheels, same tires, same...you get the idea.

It makes Moveitfred feel kinda gay to be seen in the woods with Al this way.

But Moveitfred was a good sport. He kept his mouth shut (for the most part) and lead Al and C.C. off into the woods. 'Cept Wrong-Way Fredo bolted off into the woods heading ass-backwards on a one-way trail. About two miles in Al saw fit to inform Moveitfred that all the trail blazes were on the wrong side of the trees. After some deep thinking on the part of Al, C.C., and fred, the boys decided it might not be good to charge through the tight, technical sections of singletrack headed the wrong way on the crowded weekend trail. So back to the beginning and off in the right direction it was.

The trail was in great shape after some recent, heavy rains. All was dry and warm today. After some modest warmup, freddy and Al put the hammer down and started to get into the rhythm of the twisty singletrack. C.C., getting his cycling legs back after a long hiatus, lagged behind but also made good time through the woods. The boys then started hitting the diamonds to get a little burn in the legs and lungs.

By the time the boys got to the last section of trail--some very tight, twisty singletrack through chest-high scrub--both Al and fred were pretty warmed up and rarin' to go. With Al in the lead and fred tight to his wheel, the pace picked up as those twinsy bikes started cookin' through the turns. Al, admittedly, was pushing the pace, and as we all know that when we push the pace sometimes we stretch a bit beyond our limits, get going a little too hot, and experience moments of flunderfuck. Well, our pal Al is no exception.

With Moveitfred tight on his wheel, Al twice came to abrupt stops. Now what was curious about these stops was that Al was not slamming on the brakes, sliding through the sand or washing out in pine needles. Instead Al was fucking grabbing tree.

That's right. Moveitfred looked up on two occasions, after seeing Al tread rapidly approaching his own wheel and doing the full-squeeze panic stop, only to see Al fucking wrapped around trees. fred's talking two-armed bear hugs. Give yo momma a hug because you're going away to camp hugs. Fucking treehugger hugs.

Moveitfred thinks Al was just expressing his green side.

Al also managed to get in a full-on shoulder slam to one bitch-ass tree that was giving him the malocchio.

That's our Al: soft, caring, yet savage and immutable.

In all a great day on the trail. Later in the day Moveitfred put in a few more miles with the kiddies and even got in some run barefoot in the sand beach time with the little guys. Mild January barefoot day? Has Moveitfred died and gone back to Cali?


ps: C.C., how's Elizabeth?

Get to Work Heywood

Now that January is almost gone, one with any desire to compete in a race needs to start planning the year ahead. I hope to change this frail, dilapidated body of mine into an adventure-racing phenom by summer’s end allowing team Jablome to place at the Kit Carson 24 next August. How you ask. First things first. Yoga will most certainly not be in the plans. This type of Tibetan exercise is only useful when trying to impress the ladies with your sensitive side, which I have no desire to find. Also, when the fuck did being sensitive ever help anyone get across the finish line?

So, to accomplish this unrealistic goal of mine Jablome must undertake a transformation of body and soul. Registering for the Death Ride, which is held high in the Sierra Nevada’s of California, is step one. Most of the adventure race takes place atop a mountain bike while at an elevation of well over 7000 feet. Currently, Woody lives below sea level which translates to certain failure to come. In addition to spending a tremendous amount of time on the ol’ biceclete, (two times per week seems pretty extreme at this point) I must change this delicate frame into one of bulges and ripples like Fred as he displayed this over the holidays.

This racing shit isn’t for pussies ya know. I have no idea how this is going to transpire and am open to suggestions. The kayaking portion of the said adventure race does not worry me one bit because I have masterminded an infallible plan. Holding onto my teammate’s coattails will secure my safe voyage on the rough waters of Lake Tahoe. The final step in this training regimen is to improve my navigation skills. Mrs. Iwill Jablome will teach me her award-winning techniques that she demonstrates every year around Christmas as she navigates from one mall to the next. Getting lost is not a possibility with her guidance.

So, there you have it, Heywood’s goals in print. So, what do you think? Look like a winning plan?