Did you know that bike polo is a relatively old sport? It’s been around for over 100 years. It’s true. I read it on the internet.

Now we don’t play the kind of polo that you’ll find here or here. These guys take this stuff a bit too seriously. Which isn’t to say that we don’t take polo seriously, we just have more fun. Yes that’s a challenge.

Witness this rules page. It is our opinion that too many rules makes fun into work and what’s the point of that? We’re here to play some polo, not argue over section 1, clause 4, paragraph 2, sentence 3. Bullshit.

The rules for polo should be simple.

Get a bike. Or show up and ride one of the bikes you see laying around. That’s what they’re there for.

Grab a mallet. Not mine though. Grab one of those shitty bent crutches over there. Unless Soren shows up with the new mallets he just made.

Drink fluids. Red Bull showed up last night (wtf right?) so that works somehow. I prefer cold cold beer. So does most everyone else. Red Bull doesn’t even have alcohol in it. They could at least have shown up with some vodka too right?

Eventually mallets will be divided and the game will begin. Mallet handles can be made of bamboo, crutches, ski poles, axe handles, or anything else long and skinny. Mallet heads typically are pvc or wood. Whatever. Get creative.

If your feet touch the ground, you must do a 360. None of that 270 bullshit I see Mess pulling alll the time.

The organizations linked above use a large ball for some reason. We find that a orange street hockey ball is the best for us. You can pick them up at any general sports store. The good ones have water in them.

Play to 3 or 5 points. Depending on who is playing this takes anywhere from 5 minutes to 20 minutes. If it gets too long the referee(anyone on the sidelines) may yell out beer point! signalling that the next goal is the last. We can only wait so long for your slow asses to score.

Scoring must be done with the narrow end of the mallet head. Not the broad side. An attempted goal with the broad side is called “shuffling.” It doesn’t count. Pass back to the key and try again.

That’s pretty much it.

If you don’t live in Seattle or Portland, start polo in your town. Spend a night in an empty parking lot with some friends riding bikes, building skills, drinking beer, bbq(duh), and play until everyone is tired or wasted. Summer was invented for this shit.


Caution Wild Animals Crossing

Man, last night I hopped on my bike to meet Amanda before some art film up on Capitol Hill. The sun was out, yet it had cooled off a little bit, perfect evening for riding thru my neighborhood. Around the north end of Greenlake, cars park on both sides of the road. This leaves the roads pretty narrow. As I was cruising along from the left a big black dog jets out right between two parked cars. He looked like he was having so much fun running in the sun. He had a blue ball in his mouth. He was making a big loop after catching it, heading back to the guy and gal on the sidewalk to have them throw that cursed blue ball again. Poor little guy had no idea what was coming his way. Specifically, me. Not too fast but not slow by any means. I t-boned that furry beast hard. So hard he didn’t make any noise. I didn’t have enough time to lock the wheel and there was no room to turn at all so a collision was eminent. As I flew over the bars I preformed a wonderful tuck. This is a skill I don’t get to practice much, thankfully. But I was very happy with this crash. I landed on my left side, arms cradling my head. My elbow, shoulder, hip, knee and ankle are all taking the impact on the concrete. Once I slid to a stop I found I couldn’t get up. Not that I was broken or anything, I was trapped somehow. My bag had slid up and trapped my left arm. After a couple attempts I hit the eject button on my chrome bag and freed myself. This is the second time my bag has saved me much road rash. The nice folks who were out walking the dog were freaking out a little bit. They were really concerned for me, which was nice. The lady picked up my lock while the guy helped me to my feet. A quick spin of the wheels showed that they both still spun true. A few seconds later I checked out ok so back I was back on my bike. They were saying sorry over and over. I told them no worries, accident happen, enjoy the rest of this sunny day and bid them farewell. I made it a few blocks before it dawned on me, how’s the dog? My front wheel hit him square in the ribs. I don’t recall seeing him after our paths crossed. I hope he’s doing ok. Today I’m sore as fuck; I’m sure that dog is not feeling much better. Now all I can hope for is a nice bruise. If I’m going to be limping around for the next week at least I’d like to have something to show for it.


A Summer’s Eve

Skid, long, one hand, no hands, one leg, over the bars! 360!?! Slalom, short skid, drag race. Track standing and drinking beer, one foot, hopping, bar spins, giddy up. Backwards circles, no hands. Wheelies, bunny hop, endo. Track bikes are fun. Finding yourself in a nice empty parking lot with good pavement and a few friends is a good way to spend a couple hours in the sun. You kids got skillz? Share em—what are you doing, what are you learning?


Wait, I think I’m going to be sick…

It is my opinion that taking a weekend in Portland can be the one of the best possible ways for me to remember exactly what it is about bikes that keeps me so fascinated. This weekend in particular will remain in my memory until I’m senile.

Saturday morning the weather was a bit indecisive. A quick spin around town turned into a city-wide tour and eventually the sun came out. I knew I would be participating in the Velorrito later in the day, and the morning ride helped me understand my routing a bit more.

Finally 3pm. About 25-30 people arrived at the park. Lots of fancy looking bikes arrived and I began to feel a bit intimidated. Manifests were handed out. Very abruptly the race started and my heart was racing as well.

First stop was 21st+Burnside. I asked for a small burrito and they gave me a large. Damn. I started eating and was making gains on Sharky. He finished first and bolted east.

I followed a minute later and aimed for 58th+Glisan. Upon arrival I found out I’d be coming back to the same spot again, thus fucking up my planned routing. Oh well. I maintained and moved on.

I climbed up 47th moving towards Alberta when the burrito made it’s first attempt to leave my body. It stayed down. A quick stop at 28th+Alberta and I was once again flying. A headwind kept things interesting and so did the Aerostar that tried to run me down. A quick game of cat and mouse got my heart moving and eventually I settled into a nice cadence down Vancouver. I hate dirty minivans.

Across the Broadway bridge and 7th+Ankeny was finished. I found the Morrison Bridge and pretended to not see the “no-bicycles” sign. Jumped up on the curb and I was over the bridge quickly.

I wasn’t sure where 812 Mill was at first but I had a map and shortly after I had a route. I arrived thinking I was going to be getting a nice cold beer. Turns out I was supposed to bring them some. Suckers.

The sprint down Milwaukee really gave me time to feel sick with that lead burrito in my stomach. Why did I get beans? I made it to 16th+Bybee and was handed a die. I rolled a 4 resulting in a shot of green hot sauce. It burned even after I swallowed too much water.

As I was moving north again I made a quick decision to try a shortcut. It worked and I shaved a couple minutes. Utilizing the many quiet streets Portland made getting back to 58th+Glisan fairly easy. I ate my second burrito there and it was slooooow going. Sharky was the only one who had been through so I took my time. Second was fine with me.

I walked away with a nice hat, a bottle of vodka, and a sixer of beer. Not bad for wanting to puke burritos all day. The party after was nice. The beer was good. And Portland is full of great people.

I finally made it to polo on Sunday. I only got one game in and next time I’m bringing my mallet. Portland is good. It would have been nice to stick around for a while longer, but we had a drive ahead of us. So off we went.

In other polo news, Seattle polo is now on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Now what’s your excuse?


Old Friends

Summer seems to be running late this year. I’ve been riding in a t-shirt lately, some days I even bring out the sunglasses. But even still I keep a rain shell tucked in my bag. I love the feel of the city on sunny days, finding yourself taking the long route home, just because. Exploring different neighborhoods, going down that street just to see where it leads, scouting hills for the Uphill Sprints, this is what makes summer in the city so rad. With the day light looming about late into the night I’ve been running into old friends more often. Tuesday night Jason and I crossed path with a heard of point83er’s. They all had smiles on there faces and the sun on their backs. On Wednesday I ran into an old friend Colin, well acutely he ran into me, rather dramatically, throwing his hands in the air and spewing all sorts of gangsta talk. Damn street thugs. Last night I saw Sam S. climbing up 1st Ave. He was out on his track bike, riding some fancy new cranks. It’s really nice to see him back on his bike. Look for him tearing up the track this summer! Race three in the Uphill Sprint Series is tomorrow. Since the days are longer, the race will probably start a little later, like 7ish. If you’re pressed for time this should give you a little extra time to roll down to the start at 500 Boren. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for sunshine, but I’ll probably still have my shell in my bag.


Vibrator Updates

So we’ve been meeting every week for the past couple of months planning this one out. Multiple events this time around, bbq, and beer Aug 12 and 13. It’s really really good, but I can’t give any more details just yet.

We’ll be releasing all that important info soon including details, pre-registration through this site, and more.

In other news, 32 is having his graduation photo show today at 2323 Elliott Ave in Seattle from 9-4. You should stop by.



Alright, here’s something to impress. I’ve done the STP twice, last year in one day; I was proud of myself. Two hundred miles in a day, double century. “Big whoop really,” some of us could say. It was relatively easy in my opinion. That said, I’ll admit I didn’t do much riding the next day, sort of took it easy, gave my ass a break you could say.

Well, I just got off the phone with Daniel and when he tells me with only a few day’s break he’s been riding around Minneapolis, visiting shops, friends, and just cruising around, I’m extremely impressed.

Now when he told me that he’s going to compete in some time trial there tonight, well, I just feel really small and weak. Daniel is a monster who evidently feels no pain, and when he does, he simply adapts. When the bonch starts hurting, when the ass can’t take it any longer, he simply stands up. Riding several hundred miles out of the saddle is a feat unto itself. If I understood him correctly, he told me he completed his crossing of South Dakota in one day! South Dakota is 380 miles across west to east.

We can’t wait to see you again, even if it means you dusting us with veritable ease!