- Bad Idea Racing – HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

but now it is certain that I am in Decline.

Wonderboy called me to let me know he had a copy of Decline with the Hellride IV story in it. He picked it up at the local bike shop, and brought it to work for me. Luckily I have a good friend who can take a great thing and make it better. He didn’t feel like I got enough mad props on the cover so he added a little of his own panache.

In case you missed that:

Wonderboy was also kind enough to highlight everything he felt put me in a negative light,

and to give me the occasional thought bubble.

I would say the article was a fair account of the story. A few things are wrong, but a lot of it is right. They said that “my behavior has prompted Santa Cruz to re-evaluate the Hell Ride”, and they mentioned time limits for next year. I thought that was interesting. The Hell Ride (from what I gather) has never had a defined set of parameters as to what the contestants can expect. Will I get dropped (of course I can be dropped)? Will I get lost? Is there any/will there be support? Where the hell am I going? How will I find my way? Someone could have been at the intersctions so I didn’t have to wait for a moto rider to come along and point out the way. There coulda been food available at the halfway point (like there was supposed to be) so I didn’t have to go over to the grocery store to get my grub on. The bike coulda been dialed in better before the ride so I didn’t have to stop and fiddle with it. Hell, the bike coulda had a Gravity Dropper setpost on it like most of the other riders had (I can’t even begin to count the times I stopped to fiddle with the seat height).

BUT the hell with all that. The Hell Ride is supposed to be HELL. Why shouldn’t it be as hard as possible? Shouldn’t there be some disappointing moments along the way to pick at your morale? Shouldn’t the photographer be talking smack at you whenever he gets a chance? Keep Hell Ride vague, borderless, undefined, arbitrary, contrived, slanted, awful, off balance, nasty, hot….. whatever. Make next year’s bitches earn that shit. I had no idea for sure that I was going to get the bike when I got dropped. Hell if I knew the rules. When my boy Eddie O’Dea did the Hell Ride Weir waited for him, so obviously things had changed. With a defined set of parameters I might have actually had goals to gauge my performance on, instead of feeling like a fish outta water for ten hours. It was sweet, sweet torture. The kind I usually PAY to experience, but this time it was free and the reward was substantial financially and spiritually.

Please keep the hell in Hell Ride Santa Cruz.

Yes mom, I went out and bought a copy for you, and I won’t let Josh near it.