Cali B-Sides.

So the race was a total let down. 40 motos? At a pro series national? That's a joke. Not even 2 full racks of pros, on the West Coast? Really? Fuck.
The sad part is that the only people is the one's who are being political and choosing sides... and for the pros... Rather than travel to the race that is more than likely one of the closest ones and make some money, they stayed home... Let down. Ruiners.



After flying to SFO, my buddy Ryan left me for the beginning of his vacation and a night out in San Fran. I sat and waited for a 2 hour delayed Johnny P and watched the Bike Cops do sprints through baggage claim.

Looking a fucking mess. Slept less than 2 hours in a parking lot after we finally found our way to the track at like 4am(the race was ~3 hours from SF). Totally shot.

Saw this dog in a pickup trunk on my way to 7-11 to buy round 1 of coffee and energy drinks. Luckily I cameup on a case of Monster later in the day...

Probably one of the best facilities I have ever been to. On top of a top notch track, they have a full set of trails going down the other side of the hill.

John decided not to race day 2. We decided we wanted variety. We day drank a little, did some shots, and then met Al Roybal and crew for dinner... Rather than order over priced drinks, we just brought all the rum and whiskey we had and ordered diet cokes. We tried going out afterwards but everything was fucked, so we just went back to the hotel and slept through most of Sundays race.

this little guy was at the hibachi grill... Never seen the siamese variety.

Worst hotel I ever stayed at. We didn't book a room, just winged it. They quoted 60 on the phone, we paid 54? no tax. I took a cold shower.

On our way to the track we figured we would get donuts. The donut store only had 12 donuts. We decided it would be funny to just order them all. They also refused to give me regular milk for my coffee, so i just went and stole a chocolate milk, took what I needed and put it back on the shelf. assholes.

Ronnie Gaska was riding Shoreham while I was away. Hell yea.

Todd Lyons was there. Wildman Wednesdays are awesome. I touched his nipple. He didn't know how to react. He flexed it out.

Catrick.

Mexican Flee Market sells the wildest shit. Here are some trading cards. I came pretty close to buying 2 puppies for $20 but John wouldn't let me.

Drove way to fast through these mountains in our race car. No clue how I evaded all police.

BMXMania creepin. Look at those bags under my eyes.

Australian stealin out olympic training spot. Everything is bigger than it looks.

... San Diego.


More to come I guess.

B sides of Texas.

I was recently in Dallas covering the ABA BMX super nationals. Stuff from that can be seen here and here with a couple of galleries coming soon that I am currently editing.

The weather in Texas was one of the most miserable things I have encountered in a long,long time. Upon arrival Friday, everything was just fine. I went and bought a power inverter for my car so I would be able to work from there, wandered into a thrift store for some shitty tshirts and then I was off to the races... Unknowingly late.

I wasn't to late atleast. Everything was fine actually. And it was beautiful out, just as it was when I left New York. I even put my bike together and rode a cement park that night before meeting a friend for drinks and writing up the part one of my story.

Saturday is where everything went down a hill, fast.


I sat in the second to last row of the plane. As shitty as it seems at first knowing that, it is kinda awesome. You're the first one on the plane and last one off. Granted, I don't want to be crunched on that thing any longer than I have to, but there is ample space to put your carry on which in my opinion is kinda worth it. Somehow, our flight got to the airport a full hour early. Something about a lack of head wind. Maybe it was carrying the storm down?


I always shoot the jump into the first turn first. It's always a good shot, and allows me more time to scope out where else I am going to shoot from afterwards. Round 1?


The clay within the venue is way hard. My knees were killing me. To much calcium? there is a distinct line where it goes from pack like cement to loose as sand.


I've started to be come a connoisseur in shitty malt liquor and bum drinks. I meant to take a picture of my 6 pack of mickey's alone with my bottle of MD 20/20 next to my pile of thrift store shirts, but as typical, failed.


Ex single A pro racer James Corroza allowed me to stay with him Saturday night. this is his dog. My brother owes him $20 from 7 years ago. He didn't break any legs this weekend, but drank 3 margaritas and was lit.


Lit.


I made james and his girlfriend do shots of MD 20/20. Banana Red. Tastes just like Banana.



What the fuck is the deal with that? Really. What the fuck. Friday was in the 70's, Saturday was in the mid 40's and sunday just dropped completely off. It took me over an hour to make the 20 minute drive from James' house to the BMX track. I saw cars against walls everywhere and one on its side. Driving to the airport later in the day was like driving through a car battle field. Bits and pieces everywhere.


I was running later after the traffic sunday, so I parked in the grass... and immediately sank 3 inches. Had to borrow a tow strap and get someone to pull me out. Fuck yeah mud puddles.



This little taco shack was undoubtedly the best thing that happened to me on Sunday. On my way to the airport. Left myself plenty of time. and then got lost. Made it to the rental car dropoff by 1:15 for my 2:15 flight.... and still hadn't packed. Managed to put everything(i think...) in my bags, and pull my bike apart and pack that in 10 minutes freezing cold in a parking lot. It wasn't until I got ont he shuttle bus that I realized I still had the keys in my pocket. The driver hooked me up and took care of them.
My flight was delayed an hour. i looked like shit, didnt have time to change, was completely filthy. Went to the airport bar. Was granted a double shot and a jack and coke for $12.


Finally back in New York from a hellish trip, and this little asshole attacks me.


If you haven't watched Darryl Nau's day in the life on www.props.tv I highly suggest you do. It will inspire you to cook some sweet potatos.


All in all, I am just being a whiney bitch because I know New York had a fantastic weekend. I'm bitter about that. But fuck it, this too shall pass.

Happy Birthday Max.

Max just yelled at me for never updating.
I'm lazy.



This kid is 21 now.

yo girl, what's your major?

I slack.
Went up to Ithaca/Binghampton this past weekend with Hoey for the opening of the Nick Wilson Memorial Skate Park in Newark Valley, which is a small town in the sticks, with a population of about 1500. Nick Wilson died while fighting over in Iraq, in a town of 1500, that seems to hit everyone who lives there....
The whole scene was like something out of a movie. It was cold and rainy. The color guard was there. The Mayor was there. A priest was there. The police shut down the road in both directions for the ceremony where a bunch of people from the town were gathered. Nick's brother flew in from Texas(he's in the airforce) and read some words(i'm pretty sure that info is accurate, i might have people confused). It was a pretty surreal sight.
People rode bikes and had fun. The sun came out.


Aside from that. Upstate kids are pretty awesome.


Growing a sweeeet 'stache.


Kelly Baker, siked, throwing out Manmade stuff.


Steve Crandall punched me in the teeth and then handed stuff out.


The 7th Grade class in town made a bunch of signs that were posted all over.


People.


Nick Marzolino. This kid is the reason all of this happened. He wrote Nike a 150 word essay in a "why should you have a skatepark in your backyard contest" but instead of writing about why he should have a ramp in his yard, he wrote about how he wish there was a ramp/park to remember his friend in his town.

Jon Capozzi


After Toby(above) failed at shotgunning a rockstar, this little kid shook one up, exploded it in his face, and then pounded it. Pour Toby.

Little kids upstate like to breakdance.

I'm going to steal some photos from Brian Tarbell later in this post.

Mike Spinner didn't even show up.

This was the only run I took. Straight to flat nose diving.

Patrick the cat is fucking awesome.

I left my camera in Hoeys car with him while I disappeared for the night. This is what I got.

Endwell is hard.

Hancock and John Lee will be on LI this weekend.

Hoey. Artfag flare.

Chris Hancock is the more in control of his bike than anyone I've ever met.

Over under.


these are what I stole from Tarbell.

This photo is titled 'berr in a coffee cup'
Atleast I'm eating an apple though.

John Lee.

Wishes he owned a Lorenzo Scarf

Hancock.

Here's a Gallery
Tarbells Flickr
an actual write up about the weekend