"Whore of the Core", or "How to disqualify pretty much everybody"

Now that my computer is up and "Kind of " running, I plan to get back to recording the antics of messengers and the like here in Portland.....

With that said, I will regale you with a first handed account of the "Whore of the Core" alleycat that went off last night.

Thrown by the infamous Beefa, a friend of mine for over 22 years, this alleycat started and ended at the Ash Street Saloon, at SW 2ND and SW Ash, downtown Portland, Oregon.

About 15 racers waited while Beefa sat at another bar, smoking cigarettes. Eventually he showed up, and announced we were waiting longer for R. Kelly to show up...

This became a tedious and tense situation. Numerous trips to the stoop went down.
A larger number of beers went down, attempts at calming the nerves of tense racers.

We all saw the bike thief, Jerry, leave early, staking himself out somewhere along the route. I decided that he would be easy to push out of my way, so the bike thief was not a factor in my race.

We were sent off with no rules, no explanation, no help. But Beefa did hold us up long enough to smoke another cigarette before saying go.

Seventeen stops lay ahead of me, and I quickly clicked off three of them in the core, then headed northwest for one.

There was a simple (seemingly) question to answer at each stop. I wrote down the answer to the Northwest stop, and then realized I had already made my first mistake.
One block from an earlier stop was a second one, which I had missed entirely.
I routed it into my return to the Ash Street, and moved up the hill into the SW, to 1201 SW 12Th.

There were three stops on the top side of downtown, which I hit quickly and efficiently. It was down the hill to 1000 SW Broadway, where I wrote down the answer to yet another question, and accidentally picked up what would change the entire rest of my race, Chaz.

He had started late, was a little freaked out, and got inside my head. One freaked out question after another as we rolled off a couple of blocks to another stop.

He wouldn't read his manifest. Every question he asked me, my answer was "Read your god damned manifest!".


He was so in my head I missed another stop by a half a block. The "bike thief", Jerry stole his bike. Right after I told him that Jerry was going to steal it.

I bombed off towards the south end of downtown, pulling off two stops before heading far, far south towards SW Bancroft.

Chaz was right on my heels, under the impression (and I may have put this idea in his head) that he was going to coast in with my answers.

My path through the south land involves many controversial moves,not limited to riding the wrong way through many stop signs, and construction zones where tickets cost twice as much.

There was a policewoman parked down there, and a out of control rookie behind me.
My only choice was to start riding like a mad man, and hope he got stopped while I moved on.

We saw Mason riding back from this stop, when we were mere blocks away.

This put me high in the rankings at that moment, being on track right behind Mason and R. Kelly. Except for two factors...

I had Chaz to not kill in traffic as he followed me. When rolling fast by yourself, caution can be thrown to the wind. But when you have a rookie behind you, it puts you in a position of responsibility, which slowed me down entirely.

I also had the stop he caused me to miss, to go back uphill too. I quickly got back to the courthouse stop, then down the hill for two more. During this time frame, I ditched Chaz.

It was a quick jaunt across to the first stop I missed, then hauling ass to the Ash Street to finish.

There was a large crowd on the sidewalk when I pulled up.


It turned out that all but two manifests had wrong answers, and Mason was declared the winner, with R. Kelly coming in second place.

A heated discussion, inspired by El Dupe, followed, as he wanted the $55 dollars himself due to technicalities.

This is an added note:

I wrote above about the heated discussion between Beefa, Mason, and R. Kelly.
This is still going on, having been slightly propegated by certain people, including yours truly........

We will never know what really went on that fateful evening.....

The things we do on the path to glory......
I digress...

I was patiently waiting to make sure that Mason spent a large percentage of his winnings on beer for everyone, as is the unwritten, but declared out loud at the start, rule for alleycats in this town.

The beer flowed, and I drank a couple. Much fun was had, and then a small train of us rolled off the the Polo Haus for more revelry, more beer, and bike polo.

My game was very on, scoring three goals in one game, then four in the next.
I made a sweet behind the back shot, from the opposite goal, that scored the fourth in a epic battle.

What is next on the agenda?

"Too Much Scotty", the Scott alleycat is going off on Saturday afternoon, March 31st.
It starts at 1:00 pm, at 511 NE 29th.....





This will be a moment of shining glory for me, as it will be a difficult, long, struggling race.

People will be dropping like flies, and I will overtake them one by one, securing myself a much needed Reload bag...

Then, with my entry secured into the "Warehouse Scramble" on Sunday, I will carry the strength of my Scotty win right on through to win it too....


Oh the Glory! Bask in my light!!!!!

Another Alleycat, Gone Wrong....

A lot has gone on since my Mac died..... Too much.
I have it back,as it was in service for a week, and seems to be fading fast.
Probably should get a back up desktop tower or something.
Anybody have a Mac Mini just collecting dust?
(Me and Chaz)

A couple of Thursdays ago, I raced another one Slackjaw's (Drew's) Alleycats. A good group of kids showed up. I doubt there was anyone over 28 that raced. Maybe even younger....Oh, besides me.

It went off from Berbati's, in the standard "Slackjaw" fashion of loud and confusing.
off we went, on what was basically a long loop around town, once again including the routing through my favorite, "The Ho Chi Min Trail".

(Slackjaw)

There were like 13 stops, and two pickups. The stops once again consisted of writing a word off of a sticker, and the pick ups were either some stupid rolled cardboard Slackjaw made, or a can of beer. A nice blowed up version of the manifest will be displayed here, for you all to enjoy.






One of the beautiful parts of this, was Slackjaw's spelling errors. While I fully admit that I am not always the best editor ( I don't even want to edit my stuff, cause i ruin it. Others have offered to edit for e, and I should let them.)



But, Slackjaw's spelling made me feel less like I was racing an alleycat, and more like I was coaching a Special Olympics team.
Not only was the manifest wonky, but the spelling of the clues was more than I could handle, leaving me rolling away from most of them laughing.

Barney ended up finishing first, but didn't put his name on the manifest, and was DQ'ed. I came in second, missing one clue, which Brian drunkenly put on the opposite side of the street from the address.




This left Adam in first place, possibly Chaz in second, Dan in third, and me in fourth.

Tiah was the first and only woman, which is great all in it's own. She is in surgery I think right now for a broken arm she got falling over last night. I will be going to the hospital by the time she is waking up.

The party was at the Mill St. house Annex, up at 7Th. After a steak and a beer, some of us rolled off to Sara's going away party. She was headed off to Japan the next morning, and as she had ridden down to Rickreal for my 40Th birthday, I wanted to make sure I showed up.


And did I ever make a presence. At one point, in one hand, was a cup of warm Sake, and a beer. In the other hand was a glass of wine (Merlot). In between my thighs was a flask of Vodka, and someone, who was very funny, in front of me, was handing me a flask of whiskey.




Needless to say I slept on the couch. it has been quite a while since i have not been able to make it home from a party, so I guess it was due.

I have so much more to get out of my head. If you are even remotely interested in the magical wonders that Portland, Oregon has to offer, you should check back quick.
Like tomorrow.

Tonight is bike polo, and I barely survived Sunday polo. I had my fastest polo wreck yet, my handlebar having clipped one of the poles at what , on the tennis court, would be considered full speed.

Coming up?

Polo pics, waterfall pics, update on Tiah, words of wisdom (or stupidity), dog's and cat's living together, and a little gem of a story from the vault....

Bringing it 'round the turkey, and into your living room,
Dabby McCrashalot

The House That Ignorance Built...

The following is another sordid tale, of a brief moment in my life.
The names here have not been changed to protect the innocent.
Screw the innocent, they should grow a backbone.

Late one night, in and or around 1986, my friend and roomate Mike and I were walking home from a late night out dancing.
We lived up at 14th and SW Clay, in a building aptly nicknamed the "Imperial Armpit".
Many fun times were had here over the years.
This is not one of them.

Mere blocks from home, we came across Beefa, and some lucky lady, leaving our building.
We chatted, and laughed, since we all had a good buzz.

While walking away, I mentioned to Beefa that the T shirt he was wearing was mine, and it would be great if he would give it back to me one day soon.
I am sure many of you have dealt with the drunken Beefa before, and realize how big of a mistake I had just made.
Also, I must assure you that the drunken Beefa of today is but a tiny spark of the one of yesteryear.


(The above video is courtesy of R. Kelly, long may he reign as El Presidente!)

Somehow, in asking for that tshirt back, I had struck a nerve in that young boy.
Even after imforming him that it was a one of a kind t shirt, from my brother- in- law's surf shop in Huntington Beach, he stuck to his guns, and refused to admit fault.
This turned to Beefa getting very pissed off, and trying to get me to fight him.
This is one thing I know better than to do. I did not have a baseball bat, or anything heavy enough to knock him down, and I know better than to straight up fight him.
He pushed me, and he shoved me for a while, trying to knock me down and assert his authority.
I successfully avoided the fight, which I surely would have lost, and we walked on home, traumatized.

What is the point to this story, you may be asking about now?
The point is to show how the depth of true friendship can persevere, no matter how shallow it may appear at times.

For, within the next couple of hours, I heard a knock on my door.
When I opened it, there stood a much subdued and appologetic Beefa, with my t shirt in his hand.


As much as I know, and have seen from this burly, angry man, that stands out in my mind as one of his shining moments, and that has helped endear him to me for life.

Without friends, all you are left with is enemies....