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Journey to the center of my ass…@##=#<10,R>@##=#
Back by no demand whatsoever, it’s the journey to my backside! And this week, there is no “bwahh-ha-ha-ha!” But due to the generosity of teammate Ben Harris, I was able to test another saddle, so lets get to the not-even-quasi-science.

Test subject: Selle San Marco ASPide
OK, here’s another marketing gripe. I know that ASPide (pronounced asss-peee-day) is Italian for “viper” according to the trusty Babel Fish translation, but if I’m shopping for a saddle, I’m not going to look up the pronunciation; it’s just not happening. So if I shop for this saddle, I’ll have that awkward moment when I mispronounce the name (especially because of the silly capitalization) and I get to be corrected by the salesperson. I don’t need Selle San Marco exposing my idiocy to the world; I’m doing a great job of that all by myself, thank you. In fact I’m doing it right now!

And what would make anyone think it’s a good idea to name an object you set firmly between your legs after a poisonous, fanged reptile? Just saying.

The long journey to my backside has got me to thinking, why hasn’t any company taken a shot at making custom saddles? There are custom shoe makers in the cycling world, what would prevent someone from doing the same with saddles? Granted the process for making a mold of someone’s rear end could be a little daunting and – let’s face it – creepy, but I think it could be done.

The outdoor ride
The ASPide performed well on a 2 hour drive, it was predictable and seemed comfortable – no major incidents. It seemed like a well performing saddle.

The Rollers
Mmmm-kay, it was a 28:15 trip to Deadwood in the iron butt roller test. Not bad, not great, it’s in second place to the Signo. The saddle didn’t feel wide enough and it felt like it had a rise in the middle that put all my weight on my taint instead of the old sit bones. And let me just say that “taint” did not trip the auto spell check on Microsoft Word – taint, taint, taint!

Time for hate…
Second place in the world of my ass is first loser.

Where does this leave us?
Have your heard about my custom saddle company – it’s called “your ass is mine!”

Sprintech Mirrors@##=#<9,L>@##=#
Ok, I know I’m not cool. I admit it. It may be hard to believe that I don’t live in a constant haze of delusion and inflated internet self-importance, but I don’t, really. Except for the occasional bout of digital hubris, I’m pretty realistic about my place in the world of “cool.” I live in New Jersey with a wife and two kids, so my coolness expired years ago. I had a shot at cool around 1992 or so, but I blew it. No big deal, I’ve moved on…

Why the long winded history of my ranking on the Fonzie meter? Well, this week’s review is for bike mirrors. Bike mirrors are the cycling anti-cool. And appearing cool on my bike is all I have, I have no overpowering skills nor do I strike fear with my mighty fitness. It’s sad – I know, but that’s the situation I find myself in. So these mirrors would represent the first slippery step on becoming “that bike guy” – you know the one with every bike accessory imaginable attached to his bike. He’s got reflectors, radios, tassels, saddlebags, flags, all of that stuff hanging and banging around; making a powerful noise while he’s wearing that retina jarring reflective orange vest. I just can’t become that guy, I just can’t…

So, I will review the mirrors with trepidation. The mirrors retail for $29.99. So, I’m giving a not too enthusiastic… “Bwahh-ha-ha-ha!”

Road Test
@##=#<8,R>@##=#
Set up was about 2 minutes. The mirrors consist of two bar ends to replace your normal bar ends, and the mirrors pop in and out of the bar ends. If you want to go “stealth”, you just pop the mirrors out and voila, “that bike guy” no longer.

On the road, the mirrors worked, I could see behind myself. I was probably safer because of it. What else is there to say?

Time for hate…
I am vain, capricious and shallow. If I use the mirrors, it will be easier sighting the sasquatch than seeing me in the wild with my mirrors.

Where does this leave us?
Everyone should buy mirrors, eat healthy, and brush their teeth 3 times a day. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.

If bicycle retailers and consumers want to obtain additional information or purchase them contact:
ProNet, Inc.
910 N. Cambrian Ave.
Bremerton, WA 98312
U.S.A.

Tel: 1-800-279-3793 or 360-782-2463

Journey to the center of my ass…@##=#<5,R>@##=#
The journey resumes! I’m back in the game again after a bout with nursery school virulence. So let’s get to the saddle review. But first things first. “Bwahh-ha-ha-ha!”

Test subject: Selle Italia Signo
The Signo weighs 225g, and costs about 100 bucks or so. It has a system in place that complies with the shifting of rider weight during pedaling by means of controlled oscillation. There’s a vanox/carbon composite rail that dampens vibration and more carbon in the seat to dampen vibration. Does that sound technical enough for you? Well, it should since I stole that info from the Selle web site. As far as I can tell it means that the saddle moves a bit when you pedal, and vibrates less when you go over bumps.

But more importantly, it’s a good looking saddle. I’m not going to pretend I can’t be won over by a pretty saddle, because I can. There – I said it, and if most riders were honest, they would admit it too. I’m shallow that way. I like pretty bike parts – sue me. Wait, let me rephrase that…

The outdoor ride
Unlike the Selle Italia SLK, this saddle allowed me to settle into a sweet spot quickly, and also unlike the SLK this saddle didn’t have a bizarre slippery feel. I would guess it’s because of the perforated surface of the saddle, or Selle Italia as developed an ass magnet, personally I’m hoping for the latter.

No pain or discomfort on the outdoor ride, the saddle seemed very familiar as I have ridden a Flite Gel for the past couple of years, and the shape seems similar. So I would give the Signo a “pass” on the outdoor section of the test. That would only leave the true test – the iron butt roller test.

The Rollers
Here are the rules for the rollers test:

1. Remain seated until the naughty bits go numb, or in the vernacular, a visit to “Dead Wood.” Record time to reach Dead Wood.

That’s it, what other rules do you need?

So back to our saddle test, I saddled up the Kreitlers and planted the can on the Signo. I had neglected to turn on the fan so it was going to be a sweaty run, but I was not going to be distracted from my mission. I was slated for an hour’s roller run.

If you’ve never done an uninterrupted hour’s worth of sitting and pedaling on you rollers without a fan, well, consider yourself fortunate, because it’s just dumb.

That said, the Signo made it through the hour without a stop at Dead Wood. I felt we were near the city limits sign, but never crossed the town line. That’s pretty good in my book. The Signo passes the roller gauntlet. And it’s rewarded with copious extra amounts of schmalz crack sweat. It’s a win-win!

Time for hate…
I got to soak a free fancy saddle with my butt sweat without numbing my nether region. I may have to consider retirement.

Where does this leave us?
Well, my butt complied very well with the Signo. Yours may not. Results may vary. Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt! Gotta get those shots in while I can.

Journey to the center of my ass…
We interrupt the journey to the center of my ass for an illness interval. I am in the midst of my oldest daughter’s first year of the Petri dish known as nursery school, and I am paying the price immunity-wise. I think I have had one symptom or another since early December, culminating in a neck gland swelling thing that had me knocked out just before Christmas.

So that means no time to delve into the working of my nether regions. You will simply have to wait until next week to hear about my bottom in excruciating detail. Look! Another cliff hanger – journalism!

Time for hate…
If you listen closely, you can hear me hacking mucous.

Where does this leave us?
Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt! Didn’t think I was going to pass that up for another week, did you?

Journey to the center of my ass…
That title sounded a lot better yesterday. Ok, ill-advised title notwithstanding, I will be addressing a very important topic in this week’s review – my ass. Ask any cyclist about their saddle and you will get a long and sordid tale, because we may not know about tensile strength and other such technical hullabaloo, but we do know our own rear ends. The saddle is a vital contact point for any cyclist, and if you want people to spout opinions, ask about their saddles. I will now commence spouting.

My tale starts when I got fancy a while ago and replaced my worn out Selle Italia Flite Gel with a Fizik Arione. That might have been my first mistake, and what will follow is sure to be a saga of petty and capricious snarkiness.

The Arione came up wanting in the crucible of winter roller riding. By my deadly-scientific figures, it would take about 24 minutes or so before I landed in the valley of numbness – “Dead Wood” – as it were. Sorry, Fizik, it’s off to the scrap heap (or maybe ebay) for you. So, being an enterprising individual when it comes to my posterior, I cobbled together an ass library of my own by asking friends and teammates to send any unused saddles they had laying around so I could do my own little research study using my own butt as the test subject. Test results may vary as butts are like snowflakes – no two are alike. And I’m really running out of synonyms for ass.

First subject: Selle Italia SLK@##=#<6,R>@##=#

Welcome to butt city – population – you. This saddle was generously sent by teammate Ben for testing. On first impression the saddle seemed not wide enough at the seat area, and it seemed I couldn’t shift around enough to get a sweet spot.

In the roller test I never made the trip to Dead Wood, but at around the 37 minute mark, I was definitely in the suburbs.

In the outdoor test, the saddle felt short from fore to aft, and since it has one of those cut out taint sections, it felt a little wide in the near tip section. It also felt slippery.

Sorry SLK, out you go!

Second subject: Selle Italia Signo@##=#<5,R>@##=#

Let me start by saying, “Bwahh-ha-ha-ha!”
The fine folks at ProNet Inc. (Selle Italia importers in the states) responded to my inquiry about acquiring products to test by sending the Signo. Thank you, ProNet for believing as I do that I am a “journalist”.

The review will be forthcoming next week. That’s what’s known in the business as a “cliffhanger” – see – journalism!

Time for hate…
Two saddles down, this princess is picky about her peas.

Where does this leave us?
The journey to my ass is a long and arduous one. I have been giggling the entire time I have been writing this. Dignity is for suckers! Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt! He he!

Kreitler Rollers@##=#<3,R>@##=#
The story of my relationship with my Kreitler Challenger rollers begins some 12 years ago or so. I was living in Kansas City and was trying to become a bicycle racer rather than just a Euro-dork wannabe (don’t know if I’ve ever made that jump, really). So, the plan at the time was to get myself a set of rollers to ride away the Missouri winters. I picked up my used Kreitlers at a Play-It-Again Sports somewhere in Kansas. Remember, when I bought these rollers they were used, so I have no idea how many hours were put on them.

My enthusiasm that first winter was touching in hindsight, I rode the rollers quite consistently, and in the years since my enthusiasm has ebbed and flowed, but the damn rollers haven’t changed one bit. I’ve moved from three states and I’ve only had to change the rubber band once. I’ve never had a bump in the drums, or any bearing troubles or anything. I can only come to one conclusion and that is: Kreitler rollers are in fact, undead and perhaps made by a malevolent spirit or a minor demon of some sort.

Time for hate…
When you purchase Kreitler Rollers, you are bringing a haunted specter into your home. They will not age nor show significant wear. They will outlive you and perhaps your children also. Beware!

Where does this leave us?
Do you not fear the undead! Beware these perpetual motion machines!

Hell on Wheels DVD@##=#<1,L>@##=#
So, it seems my little review plan is working out. The fine folks at First Run Features have sent me a copy of the documentary Hell on Wheels to review. Let me just rub my hands together and say bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I shall now begin the mighty free stuff inventory. Look here for the incredible list. Internet journalism pays!

With two daughters aged 3 years and 5 months, finding time to wedge in any grown up entertainment into our DVD player is nearly impossible, but I was very excited to get my copy of Hell on Wheels. My greatest challenge would be actually finding the time to see the DVD. I split the show into viewings at 5am feedings or during the short gaps in the mornings between when my younger daughter wakes and before my older daughter dominates the house viewing.

The DVD was well worth the potential familial alienation. The documentary follows the 2003 Tour de France (remember that one? The interesting one…) through the trials and tribulations of Team Telekom, and most notably riders Erik Zabel and Rolf Aldag. The film crew has incredible access to the team and support staff and gives an exclusive look at the inside workings of the team. It’s a great look at the Tour from another angle and as addictive as a crack-like substance to an obsessed nut job like me.

The cinematography is breathtaking and the shots of the race are immersive and give a great feeling for the race. This is a very pretty piece of film.

So, in lieu of any long winded literary criticism that I frankly don’t have the talent or patience to pull off, here are some random notes of interest that stayed with me from the film:

If you don’t come away an Erik Zabel fan (which I was before the film began) after seeing this film, just look in the mirror at the soulless husk of a body you inhabit and despair, but you are probably already undead so you won’t have a reflection to contemplate.

Tour Racers never stand – ever. Every interview they are at least sitting, and usually they are lying down, and getting rubbed.

The interviews with the half a nut job French journalist are priceless. Dear God, do the French sports journalists take the Tour waaaaay too seriously.

Caught a sweet random Commesso snippet. At the start of the TTT, Saeco is lined up to begin with everyone in matching kit, except for my boy Toto who for some reason has an unmatching blue helmet on. That’s just Toto being Toto. And yes, I was watching way too closely.

Sprinters don’t like mountains.

The Tour seems a little boring for the racers when they are not actually racing.

Time for hate…
This DVD stole precious fatherly moments from my young daughters; I hope that the makers are proud.

Where does this leave us?
Rush out and purchase one, knock anyone out of your way that impedes your path.