Polishing the Knob.

Last Saturday I attended the Knob trail maintenance day. I got my first experience with a gas powered weed wacker. (If you have seen my yard you will realize that I know nothing about weed wackers). It was hot and bug infested but these sweet 1980's shades I found in my closet really kept the eyes safe. And they added a good bit of Duran Duran style I must say. It really is amazing just how much grass can fit up one's nostrils after this type of activity. Furnace, Mazeville, and The Good Bad and the Ugly all trimmed up. Fortunately I don't get poison ivy, 'cause Mazeville is totally infested with it.



















Self portrait, respect the wagon.



























I had the wife buy me some Pasta de Guayaba while she was visiting family in Florida. I can't find this version in the north but sure do miss it.
I used train down there with Henry, a Columbian pro, when I lived there. One day he pulled this stuff out of his jersey pocket on a 95F day. It was four hours into the ride and it was almost molten when he handed it to me. He didn't speak much English but just said, "good for you," so I ate it, and loved it.
It's just guava and sugar sandwiched between cheese slices, but on a long ride it trumps any bar or gel for palatability, and packs some serious calories.
Henry told me alot of interesting stories about racing in Europe on a Division III team. His training methods were archaic to say the least. His former coach used to make him climb mountains in Columbia while dragging a car tire behind his bike. He was not allowed to get out of the saddle for 5-6 hours at a time. He told me I was too fat to climb, and that I must take pills and injections if I wanted to be "forte." He said he never knew what they made him take, nor did he care. Making a living as a bike racer in Columbia was good job, so you didn't question anything.
I was always a big Fabio Parra(Kelme) fan back in those days. (I'll take Columbian Greaseball Climbers of the 80's for $500.00 please). So Herny went back home to visit family and brought back a Kelme Jersey for me. It wasn't from Fabio, but Humberto Parra, his brother, I believe. I traded a Doug Shapiro autographed Denver Spoke jersey for it. And if you don't know him either than you got some U.S cycling history lessons to learn.