Leave this on at bed time, perhaps one room away...it's strangely hypnotic and may help you sleep at night.

(Courtesy of Pufferfish...)

RCR G1 - 330P3 - Monza 1000kms 1966 - Surtees / Parkes

This model with stock code G1, will be produced in just 150 numbered pieces
certified with a photoetched tag on baseplate.

Day 2 of Asheville was back to the Blue Ridge Parkway, this time finishing our climb at the junction with the highway - most of the work was on the way up.

We rode at chatting pace until about 10 miles out from the climb, then it was hammer-time and we broke up pretty quickly. I finally gapped, with Randy and Riekert when it started going uphill. This time Chris climbed well, staying just behind JT, Jacques, and Randy. Another beautiful day, and we stayed together on the descent back to the back down to the Ashville, nearly 30 miles all downhill. There were some very long tunnels, however, where once in them, there was no light. Even with the taillights blinking in front of me, it was tough the fight the vertigo and follow the curvature of the road.


Peter, Jacques, and I


That night's dinner @ Tupelo Honey, in downtown Asheville. Jalepeno marinated NY Strip, mashed sweets, and brussel sprouts.

(Unrelated, my Chicago Cycling Examiner page is back. Wicker Park is profiled in my ongoing bike-friendly neighborhoods series.)

SLOT MINIAUTO 55 – MAY

The new Lancia Delta S4 of Scx is the cover protagonist of SlotMiniAuto in May. On the inside you can find the track tests of the new Racer Alfa Romeo 33 / 3, the Jim Hall Chevrolet Camaro Chaparral by Scalextric, the Aston Martin DB3S Coupé of MMK and a test for the Ninco Lightning Acura LMP. Also, for Le Mans race fans, the Porsche 914-6 participating in early 1970 editions.
You can also read the presentation of the new SCX Nascar Pro, new japanese GSlot models, Honda and Toyota, the Mazda 787B of French Le Mans Miniatures, and the Vaillante VS61 of Proto Slot Kit, based on Jean Graton’s Michel Vaillant stories.
(More information on www.revistasprofesionales.com)



SLOT MINIAUTO 55 - MAYO

El nuevo Lancia Delta S4 de Scalextric es el protagonista destacado de la portada de SlotMiniAuto del mes de mayo. En el interior se pueden encontrar las pruebas en pista de los nuevos Alfa Romeo 33/3 de Racer, el Chevrolet Camaro de Jim Hall reproducido por Superslot, el Aston Martin DB3S Coupé de MMK y una toma de contacto del Acura LMP Lightning de Ninco. También, para los amantes de Le Mans, los Porsche 914-6 que participaron en las ediciones del 70 y 71.
Además se puede leer la presentación de los nuevos Nascar Pro de SCX, los nuevos modelos de GSlot, el Mazda 787B de Le Mans Miniatures, y del Vaillante VS61 de Proto Slot Kit.
(Más información en www.revistasprofesionales.com)

SW03 - Riley MkXX Michael Shank Racing
Milville 2008 winner - O.Negri / M.Patterson

SW04 - Riley MkXX Michael Shank Racing
Utah Motorsports Park 2008 winner - I.James / J. Pew / R. Matos

Both cars are due for release in about 3 weeks.

Check out this link to see another slot car shirt from Geek Chic's collection on RedBubble.com: http://www.redbubble.com/people/geekchic/t-shirts/2955744-1-slots-ii

Version two of GeekChic’s most popular design.

This time on the track is a legendary ‘Le Mans’ Porsche 917s and an equally legendary Ford GT40. In their correct racing colours too. The shirt is $24.99.

I to all who subscribe to Art Car Central via feedburner, yoo got an email last night with my name on it which did not come from me. It was a request with an arabic return email address saying it was from feedburner via Art Car Central.

the message was

Hello there,
You recently requested an email subscription to Art Car Central. We can't
wait to send the updates you want via email, so please click the following
link to activate your subscription immediately:

DO NOT REPLY TO IT, i DID NOT SEND!!!!!!!

Sorry for the weirdness and I do I appreciate you all being loyal subscribers to Art Car Central. I love making you all laugh.

Asheville, NC. Sparta Camp. Except Spartans didn't eat peaches on their french toast. Or french toast, period. Especially in a bed & breakfast camp.

But the riding this weekend would've broke them off far worse than the Persians did.

---------

Randy finally arrived late Wednesday afternoon at my Old Irving apartment, and after a stop at Active Trans (formerly the BikeFed) we were off in our 15 foot van, loaded down with bikes and wheels. We planned to stay the night in Nashville at my old friend Jessica's condo there, before making the final leg to Asheville on Thursday. Once there, we'd check into the Oakland Cottage Bed & Breakfast, unload, and head to Charlotte to pick up the rest of the guys, who were flying in from Chicago.

We made great time, stopping for a quick dinner at Wendy's at some Godforsaken rest stop, and again for gas only once. A huge tank on the van ensured steady driving, which ensured I got to know Randy quite a bit more than I already have. As the hours ticked off, I picked his brain on motivation, tactics, his career, and listened to him help a pro acquaintance of mine - a client of his - negotiate a spot on the Pan Am Games women's team over the phone. I also learned he is quite a good classical guitar player and actually minored in music in college. We were never at a loss for words.

Jessica was waiting for us outside when we pulled up just before midnight. After 7 and a half hours of driving, we just wanted to hit the sack, but the trip was all so surreal, all three of us stayed up a bit talking. Jessica was my senior prom date in high school - yes, in Alaska - and had actually just been to Chicago two weekends before, for a Morrissey show at the Aragon. Before facebook we'd not talked in over 15 years, and now a year later, we'd seen each other three times over the course of various random travels.

After a quick recovery ride in the morning through a beautiful neighborhood on the outskirts of some university campus, Randy and I were on the final leg to Asheville. One truth I've learned about road trips: McDonald's only tastes good on the interstate.

That night, after a long drive back from the airport, complaining and starving the whole way, then a lagging (separate checks) and huge, heavy dinner at Texas Roadhouse, just outside of Biltmore Village in Asheville, we joked and unpacked in our rooms, and were then briefed about the weekend's riding. Like last year, we decided to move Mt. Mitchell to Friday from Sunday, due to some thunderstorms in the forecast that day.

Mt. Mitchell is the highest peak east of the Mississippi, and at 6,500 feet is tall enough to cause it's own weather, and make whatever is rolling over it a lot worse. So on Friday morning, a beautiful and sunny, yet brisk day, we rolled out after breakfast at 9am to take on one of the most epic climbs a cyclist can ride anywhere in the world.

Our planned route was 125 miles, from Asheville to the town of Marion, and then up Highway 80 to the junction with the Blue Ridge Parkway, which would lead to the entrance to Mt. Mitchell State Park. We fooled around for most of the first 50 miles, wagging our tongues at any toughguy pulls, warning about the hardship ahead. As the base of the real climbing started, however, so did the hammering, and at mile 60, we started to break up amongst the trees and the sound of the creek below the quickening switchbacks.

I hung on as long as I could, pushing steadily over 350 watts to try and stay on with JT, Jacques, Randy, Peter, and Chris. But no sooner would I close the nascent gap when I'd be falling off again. Chris was gapping in front of me as well and soon fell behind me. I was going anaerobic and realizing I'd need water and a piss soon anyways, and let off the pace to gather my wits and give myself a chance to climb strongly over the remaining 25 miles and over 10,000 feet.

Chris, Grant, Ken, and Jeremy all passed me as I pulled over. I took my time. It was a long climb. I shook off, took a sip, and got humpin' again.

Soon, those four were back behind me and Peter was now my mark. His style on these huge training climbs to hang on as long as possible, no matter the cost...but that cost is the big CRACK. It seems to work however - the man gets results. I prefer - as I stated earlier - to dial it back, and let myself get the most out of the entire climb.



I passed Peter just a few switchbacks below the Blue Ridge Junction, and then once on the Parkway, settled in for the long, lonely battle. The views were beautiful, and the weather stayed clear and sunny. It was warm and calm, and I softly sang and talked to myself over my breathing rhythm, running steady just below or at my tempo heart rate of 165 beat a minute.

The turn off to the state park entrance came much sooner than I expected. I find that odd about repeat rides - that the second time around seems much shorter. Regardless of the fact that I did in fact do this climb 10 minutes quicker, the opposite would seem to the be the case...that it would seem longer, and more drudging, now that the newness was gone. Added was the fact that my right foot had gone from an irritating ache, through a steady throbbing, to excruciating agony from the almost 2 hours of constant pressure on the ball of it. Round and round..pound, pound, pound.

As I passed the "3.9 miles to summit" sign I began to worry whether I'd be able to pedal all the way up, and thanked God I wasn't racing. Every five minutes I'd unclip it and single-leg it, which immediately alleviated the pain, but that wasn't sustainable on the steady 5-8% grade. While the first 22 miles flew by, the last four were interminable. I wanted off my bike. Now.

The three at the top were surprised to see me arrive only 9 minutes behind. But, I know that for a guy my size - high 170s - I am a decent climber. Long training climbs like this are obviously not realistic for me to "win" but they give perspective and they clarify, as well as imbue power and form for climbs I can do well on - short intense efforts, ala Snake Alley, or Fox River Grove.

It was glorious up there, looking out on top of the world. The sun shone down on us with warmth in our time to relax, waiting for the others; a reward for our effort. We ate. Clif, fruit, candy, sandwiches. Anything we brought we put it in our mouths. We watched what few people were up there with us prattle around, before asking one of them to take our picture.

We'd descend directly down to Asheville this time, instead of back to Marion and the shuttle bus as we did last year. The Parkway was closed that side of the ridge, but cyclists generally weren't hassled about it and Randy was upbeat about the route. Within 5 seconds of working my past the barrier, however, I dropped my chain and sucked it into my bottom bracket, where it stayed, wedged it tight. I could see chunks of clearcoat gouged out, and it was obvious I wasn't going that way back to Asheville.

Still able to coast, I floated back to the park entrance and flagged down a service vehicle. I was joined by Chris, who'd just flatted minutes before, and we hitched a ride back to Marion. My cell service was just enough to get a hold of Andy in the SAG wagon and tell him where we would be. On the way into town, just out of the last decent we passed Greg, who I last saw flying off the front of the group. He must have loaded the wrong Garmin file and turned left instead of right.

No matter, it all came together in the end. Except of course for the ice cream shop being closed. They'd provided the us the "Greatest Milkshake Ever" after last year's ride. I saw someone working inside, who told me, with a straight face after my knocking on the window, that their first day was tomorrow.

Greg rolled up just as Andy did, and when we got in, there were three ice cold cokes and three creamy Lil Debbie oatmeal cream pies waiting for each of us.

Tomorrow - Part 2: Back to the Blue Ridge, Mt. Pisgah and Devil's Courthouse