(Photo courtesy of BikePortland)
Ladies: What’s the last social function you attended in which a muu-muu, a skin suit, and a fluffy red ball gown were all appropriate attire? If you are taking longer than a second to answer this question, you weren’t at the Fourth Annual S.S. Pussycat all women’s alleycat race.
The S.S. Pussycat is not the typical allyecat race - that stale formula of bros, beer, and balls to the wall bravado. Nope. This is a race in which all types of fun loving, two-wheelin’ women can fiercely compete in the category of their choice: spirit or speed.
This year’s race was organized by last year’s champ Bethany and the amazing Tori. The theme of the race was Portland Fountains taking us all around town; spirit racers competing in challenges including boat races, fountain Twister, rescuing baby dolls adrift in the water, and the soulful rendition of sea shanties (graded on style). This year, I did the speed category which included the same checkpoints (sans shenanigans), but included a brutal hill climb to Council Crest.
Highlights included:
- Two Tandem Teams.
- The pre-race revelation “I really should have a tutu on standby for this kind of thing.”
- Asking for directions in Spanish at the (almost) top of Council Crest.
- Security guards kicking hapless racers out of the mall (for the authentic messenger experience).
- Swapping stories and drinking beer with the ladies after the race.
- Kind of, um, winning the race.
(Photo on loan from the Rachel Red Riding Hood Center for the Arts)
The Big Winner gets two special things: custody of the S.S. Pussycat trophy (which I have been tasked with welding back together) and the job of organizing next year’s race. So rest up, take your vitamins, and start getting pumped for next year!
When I was seven years old, I had a Ramona Quimby Diary. It was the kind where you fill in the blanks on the pages, where you bare your soul and specify your favorite animal. On one of those pages, I had carefully filled in the blank “When I grow up I want to be: Just like my brother.” Other pages clarified that Nathan was good at everything and never got in trouble. Even though he should have. Trust me.
And when I think back to my earliest memories of biking, he was always there ahead of me biking though the mudflats near our house. In these memories, he is either waiting for me or telling me that WD-40 makes your bike go faster. I was seven, had a really cool banana seat bike and no reason to believe otherwise. And though I never really understood what was so intriguing about the bicycle parts catalogs that arrived in the mail, I knew that biking was an important part of who he was.
As we got older and got through all of the usual sibling pettiness (”You walk too loud!” “Yeah? Well you breathe too loud!”), we became really close friends. In college, we decided that biking everywhere would be the coolest thing ever. He got a job with Ped Ex in Santa Cruz, delivering organic pastries and sushi rolls by bike. (Does patchouli oil make your bike go faster?) He introduced me to the joys of San Francisco Critical Mass, and some of the finer points of riding in traffic. And when I graduated, I was also inspired to become a bike messenger on the mean streets of Portland.
Needless to say, I felt really honored to have been commissioned to build him a bike. This rig is for his daily San Fransisco commute, his upcoming triathlon, and weekend rides in the Marin Headlands and the Oakland Hills. There are mounts for a rear rack (for carrying his amazing vegan pies to bio-regional potlucks) and fender eyelets (to keep his lederhosen dry on the way to parties).
Do I make him out to be nothing short of super-fantastic? Well, that he is. He told me that the other day a fella in a bike shop suggested that his chainstay ought to say “Handbuilt by My Sister in Portland, Ore.” And that is the heart of it really. I am stoked to have been the builder, but even more stoked to have been the sister.
(More pictures here.)
The NYTimes calls it the new skateboarding with a dash of Zen like simplicity. The State of Oregon calls it illegal. Natalie calls it inspiration for haiku. I am just stoked that someone grabbed a camera to catch these guys in action:
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0AFpq6jFok[/youtube]
Natalie and I were cleaning up the other day, and I came across this block print she made. We have all sorts of bike art she has done over the years, but I think this one is really great:
It reminds me of some European bike race on cobblestones, but was actually inspired by the Hell of the Southeast allycat back in ‘99.
A genre is sometimes defined by its conventions. The Epic Poem, for example, starts in medias res, has the obligatory trip to the underworld, and features the almost divine hero figure. Think Homer’s Odyssey. Or Virgil’s Aeneid.
The bike messenger movie on the other hand, has other, different conventions. While some of these conventions may overlap, the bike messenger movie usually features excessive drinking, the punk or metal soundtrack, physical injury, and the mad bike skills. Here is one fine example.
Portland averages more than 7 bike events per day–rides, races, and random bike fun. Yesterday there was one bike event that encompassed all those categories and more: the third annual S.S. Pussycat. The S.S. Pussycat has an alleycat (bike messenger style) race format and is organized for all women/transgendered bikers. All the fun without all the testosterone! This year’s race included scavenger hunt and a speed categories in addition to the mandatory stops, so everyone could compete based on their strengths. (Austin’s strength, well, being a boy, was as a volunteer. Thanks Austin!)
I raced the scavenger hunt category with my friend Caitlin, employing our messenger cunning and cat-like scavenging reflexes. Sure, we almost merged onto the freeway in North Portland and I nearly crashed into a parked car trying to identify an oak tree for the scavenger hunt, but we ended up intact at the end of the race. We came in third and fouth overall, and were the first scavengers to finish. After unloading traffic cones from our handlebars and yarn, used gum, and other loot from our bags, we took up residence on the couch on the porch and watched the rest of the riders roll in.
The big winner was Bethany.
Legend has it that she was out until four in the morning the night before, went to class at 11:00, showed up for the race and (in the words of the race director) “spanked it”. The band aid on her shoulder is from the previous night’s Chunkathlon. The tiara goes without saying. As this year’s champ, Bethany gets to organize next years race.
It was also a big day for Sweetpea Bicycles. We were race sponsors for the first time ever. Looking over the crowd of super-tough, fun-loving ladies at the finish it was clear that they are the very reason we are in business.
Ever heard that an old elephant dies when it’s last set of teeth get worn down and it just can’t chew no more? Well, my trusty old track bike wheel is kind of like the geriatric elephant. The cog had been just chomping away at the chain, mile after mile, day after day, for a very long time and all 19 of its teeth got worn down. By the time I thought to replace it, the cog had so lost its appetite for chain that I couldn’t get the chainwhip to grab on enough to take it off the hub.
And they just don’t make dentures for a track cog.
There was some big news in Portland yesterday: Apparently, a mid level City of Portland employee was approached by an FBI agent to inform on the inner workings of city hall. In a news conference, Mayor Tom Potter spanked the FBI and sent them to bed without their dinner.
If only I had such chutzpah when I was interrogated by the FBI last year.
I found myself in the dark, video monitored, super secured local FBI office. Thinking I was there to simply deliver a package as a messenger, I was stopped by an agent in a dark suit.
The door locked behind me. All the video cameras pointed my direction. The agent slowly walked towards me and began his questioning:
“So, what kind of bike do you ride?”
“How many miles a day do you get in?”
“What do you do when it rains?”
That’s when I realized: when Big Brother wants to make small talk, you look him in the eye the best you can and say:
“A track bike.”
“Oh, maybe thirty miles a day.”
“Fenders and a good rain jacket.”
“Sign here please.”
Change is in the air. The drizzly day that we have in Portland is offset by all sorts of cherry trees in bloom. Think dark skies and bright pink flowers.
Summer is on its way.
Which got us thinking of summertime memories. Here is a picture from the S.S. Pussycat, which is an all woman allycat race in town.
Summer is coming. Bike fun is coming with it.
Fixed gear bicycle
The simple elegance of
Shit! Red light! Skid stop!
