The following story is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. While riding down the Boulevard today with two other WellsFargonads, our brilliant pace was interrupted by the blare of a police siren. There has been a crack down as of late on a nefarious gang known to frequent these areas and known in police enforcement circles as simply, the Two Wheeled Brethren. Thought to be trafficking in GU gels or similar and known to carry fluids to enhance refreshment and replace electrolytes, the cops have noticed a trend that involves blatant disregard for traffic signals, stop signs, and general unsightliness related to spandex. In an internal communique seen only by a double agent we have on our team, the memorandum reads: "...any and all cyclists caught within city limits should cease and desist immediately." Cease and desist what is not entirely clear but it seems that we are being targeted. Anyway, this is how it went down:


(Siren blare!!!)

Johnny GoFast: Jiggers, it's the pigs. I say we run for it!

Ethan Kutcher: Are you out of your mind? Look how fat you are. You couldn't outrun a meter maid.

Ryan Nicholson: I'll handle this. I think the police officer goes to my church.

(We have now come to a stop and the officer has exited his vehicle)

Cop: Do you know why I pulled you over?

Johnny GoFast: Because the economy is in the toilet and your endless stream of funds from Sacramento has been turned off and you now have to hand out tickets to every John Q. Taxpayer that blinks the wrong way?

Cop: No, for running that red light back there.

Ryan Nicholson: Well actually officer, we knew the light was red but we were in the bike lane and it is a three way signal with no road to our right entering the intersection. We didn't think we had to stop.

Johnny GoFast: That light was green.

Ethan Kutcher: Johnny, I think you should shut up.

Johnny GoFast: I'm not going to shut up! Hell no! This is oppression, man. Look where shutting up got Reginald Denny.

Ethan Kutcher: I think you mean Rodney King.

Johnny GoFast: Whatever. This fascist isn't gonna take me without a fight.

Cop: Look, I just want to issue you guys a verbal warning. The ticket is $300. and I really don't want to have to write three of them out.

Johnny GoFast: Typical. I've been in this town since 1976. I've seen this police force grow to bloated proportions and there is absolutely no crime to speak of either before or after you guys came into power. I'm not surprised that you don't want to do anything. Lazy donut eater.

Ryan Nicholson: Johnny, please shut up. I think he's going to let us go. What is it with you, are you on crack?

Johnny GoFast: If I am, that cop planted it on me.

Cop: That does it. (Me now physically getting wrestled to the ground. I fought back maintaining my street cred with my two Fargonad gang members.) This smartass is going for a ride.

Johnny GoFast: You got nothin' copper. There ain't no pen that can hold me! (With that I flashed some gang symbols to Ryan and Ethan. I signaled them asking them to take care of my bike and that they should whack the cop over the head with one of their hand held bike pumps to spring me. They both stared back blankly.)

Anyway, instead of my one phone call, they allowed me access to the internet to find a lawyer. Instead, I decided to blog this. Hope you are well. I can take visitors between 2pm and 4pm on Thursdays only.

Johnny GoFast

The Daughter: I heard you and Mama are going to the movies tonight.

Me: That's right. Kind of a date, I guess.

The Daughter: Are you going to share a popcorn?

Me: Probably.

The Daughter: Are you going to get a soda with two straws?

Me: I suppose.

The Daughter: Are you then going to share a kiss?

Me: Is that what you think happens on dates?

The Daughter: Of course!

Me: Then you're not going on any until I'm dead and buried.

She just giggled and left the room like I was joking around. Little does she know that I plan to live a very long time and that I plan to buy a gun soon and learn how to aim it at adolescent young boys. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

Holy schmoly does time go by quickly. I even got harangued through my Facebook page for not posting on a regular basis. Well, here goes nothing:

1. The boy started his baseball season. He is a great contact hitter but can't field a lick. Go figure.

2. I got busted skiing out of bounds at Alpine Meadows on a powder day. We had gotten lazy and cut across a closed section to get to some open terrain to cut off some traversing. A ski patrolmen was there and let us have it. Later I learned that my season pass was turned off.

3. Some friends from Minnesota who have a timeshare at Northstar came for a week and we got together for some skiing at Northstar having been banished from my home mountain--Alpine Meadows.

4. Traveled to Davis for some VO2 max and blood lactate testing. I'm now part of a study that will chronicle the increase in both over an 18 month period as a master type athlete gets into shape.

5. For the record, I have a VO2 max that is slightly better than your garden variety couch potato. And for those of you that don't know, VO2 isn't something that is largely trainable. So I'm currently auditioning new hobbies like baseball player heckling (see item six below).

6. Traveled to Arizona where I participated in a baseball fantasy draft, took in some baseball spring training games and joined in on a guy heckling Nomar Garciapara by telling him/Nomar that his wife (Mia Hamm) looks like she smells like salami when she sweats.

7. I had just a little too much to drink for the later part of item six above.

8. I have no field information regarding the natural odor of Mia Hamm.

9. Took the kids up to Tahoe for their final ski team weekend. Maile rode up Summit lift twice on the final day. Jackson got the award for being the best buddy to all the guys on his team. That was a pretty proud moment...twice.

10. Met with the head of ski patrol at Alpine to see if I could get my pass turned back on. We had a great conversation and ultimately I talked my way back into skiing. But I learned a lot and a pretty negative situation turned out okay.

11. Project Johnny Two Point Oh goes solid with good sensations and consistent riding.

12. A college friend came from San Diego with family in tow to ski at Alpine. Had a great time getting the families together.

13. Jackson skied some killer terrain with me one day last week at Alpine. We enjoyed a bit of powder and made some great runs through the trees below Chutes That Seldom Slide, Gentian Gully (more specifically the runs below Broccoli Tree) and finally some open turns down Promised Land. These are some of my most favorite spots and to be skiing them with the boy was out of this world.

14. Rode with Griff on a "kind of hilly" route near Granite Bay. One "kind of hill" saw us climbing in first gear, out of the saddle at a whopping 40rpms.

15. The ride also had us going across a "little stream" that crossed over the road at one point. The "little stream" turned out to be a raging torent that came up to my knee on the down stroke. He dabbed. I didn't.

16. You know it's not a "little stream" when there are two kayakers shoving off from the aforementioned road. They offered to ferry me across. Again, not something I would classify as a "little stream".

17. Found out one of our chickens is a rooster. We got the "chicken" on Halloween and one of the kiddiewinks named her/him Trick. How appropriate.

18. The wifeage found a home for him down in Sunnyvale but the guy didn't want her to drop it off at his house. They met at some random spot and now I suspect that Trick is on some sort of cockfighting death circuit. But then again, it's not cock-a-doodle-doing in our backyard so who cares?

19. I just repurchased some Rudy Project team stuff (helmet that cracked last year in a crash and glasses that were schnibbied from somebody at the last race after I had thrown them down near my stuff during the race). So I must be getting serious if I want to look all team like again.

20. Spent Easter with the family and opened a special B-Mar and Clare bottle of wine and toasted the family.


Tomorrow we will reach into the mail bag and then I'll procrastinate for three weeks on what to write. Hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

Hey, happy St. Patrick's Day. With that out of the way, let's jump right into the fracas. Without a doubt, this is going to be one of those evenings where the wifeage will lock herself in the bedroom with the lights off and and a hand towel about her forehead. She'll demand to be alone and that I'm on my own for dinner and that the kids need to be bathed after I'm done feeding them. How can I be so sure? It's parent/teacher conference day at the kiddiewinks school. And you know what they say...the cobblers children go without shoes. My wifeage, being a one time educator, takes all the shit in that shit sandwich the teachers are so good at feeding you so personally. "Jackson does an excellent job knowing his numbers up to blah, blah, blah. What he struggles with is compounding them in multiples of
n and then finding x," the teacher will say. This will be followed closely by a sniffle by my wifeage at which point I'll put my arm around her as she digs through her handbag for a tissue. Later, while listening to Maile's teacher go on about the fact that she can say the alphabet perfectly in English but struggles when she tries to say it backwards in Spanish, the wife will no longer be able to stymie herself and she'll let go with an uncontrolled wailing that will make you think a dear one just died. I remember hating report card day when I was little. Why is it even worse now? Doesn't seem fair. Anyway, hope you are well and please keep your voices down when in the presence of my wifeage. Sure to be not in a good mood, to say the least.

Johnny GoFast

First it's Fast Freddy calling me fat (or at least me thinking he did) while rolling down the boulevard. Followed closely by my wife who comforted me by saying, "he didn't call you 'fat', he said: 'good for you fat guy!'" And now this:

Dear Rider:

Thank you for your interest in the GT Dirt Coalition. We received hundreds of applications from riders nationwide, which made the selection process very difficult. Unfortunately, we’re unable to offer you a position on the GT Dirt Coalition at this time. However, we’ll keep your information on file and should another opportunity become available with GT, we will be sure to contact you. We appreciate the time you spent completing the application and hope to see you out on the trails.

Thanks again for your interest in the GT Dirt Coalition and good luck this season!

For more information on GT, please visit www.gtbicycles.com.



Best Regards,

Team GT Management


So I threw my resume at GT bikes who was recruiting riders for their dirt coalition something or other. Don't get me wrong, riding for Wells Fargo presented by Allegiant Air With a Large and Personal Donation by Mark VanDenBerghe Properties is a dream come true. But GT was offering up a pretty cool bike that they were going to give to their chosen. And I think we will all agree that beating on something given is far better than beating on something purchased. I think the thing that hurts the most is that I don't even rate for a name in the letter. I'm simply "Rider". Oh the rejection and the anonymity of it. If there is anyone else out there that wants to kick a man when he's down, here's your chance. Griff, don't even think about it as you're about as down as me. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFastbutnotonaGTbicycle

So I really don't know what happened. Well, I do actually. But I guess I don't really think it's all that fair. I'm one of those people that has to work his ass off to lose even a single pound. When I'm motivated, I can train hard, give up drinking and chewing tobacco, stop all other interests in the name of training, forget about eating and dismiss social engagements like nobody. But when the switch is thrown, like it was on January 4th, I can fall out of shape, become demotivated, gain weight like a steroid era baseball player with the best of them. I was about 183 pounds on January 4th and this morning I toppled the scales at 203. Ouch! My normal racing weight is south of 178, so that's a 25 pound weight swing with 20 pounds coming within the last 60 days. WTF! Anyway, I'm back on the plan and this time three months from now, I'll be 198 and that's the part that I don't find very fair.

So I'm out there riding yesterday, keeping it mellow trying to coax my body into moving forward in some sort of semblance of athleticism, when Fast Freddy goes the other way. Not having my glasses on, I did my customary wave (which I do constantly--even to guys on recumbent bikes and triathletes). And to my surprise, Fast Freddy gave me a head nod. I thought to myself, "wow, that's a pro givin' me the nod. Pretty cool." And I found motivation in that for a little while until I started thinking, "he's probably wondering why that fat guy is even trying to ride a bike." And then I was bummed again. I went home and told the wifeage and she said, "he probably didn't think that, he probably thought...'good for you Fat Guy...you keep riding that bike.'" Which is what I plan to do, but good (insert the deity of your choice here), do I have to dig such a deep hole? Hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

Though I've never been in a fight in my life, I think if I played hockey for money, I'd be the enforcer. It's fun to have your teammates back when they've been disrespected. As a parent however, I leave the heavy lifting to the wifeage. Which isn't fair to some degree, but I think she has a greater ability to grasp the magnitude of the situation and stay madder longer. Which is required when hammering on the little ones. Case in point: yesterday I received a call from the wifeage informing me that the boy was sent to the Principal's office. My heart actually skipped a beat as I hearkened back to my day as an elementary school student and for all the things that got me plopped down in front of the principal. Although he never really seemed to be a "pal". The wifeage was less than impressed when I say, "oh, what a seminal moment in our parenting career. I've been waiting for this." Almost a little too emphatically as she could sense my pride in the irreverence of my boy. "Um...he hit a little girl over the head with his lunchbox," she said. I was ripped from my fantasy of my boy wailing on the playground bully and only really heard the word "girl" and "lunchbox". "I'm sorry," I said. "Did you say he hit a girl with his lunchbox?," now totally crushed. Turns out some girl called him a "barf brain" (high marks for quality of name calling) and the boy let fly. The wifeage, upon being mortified with the recap from the teacher, restrained herself from physically pummelling the boy with the aforementioned lunchbox and instead, went the more sedate route of grounding him to his room. He was let out to have dinner with the girl and me while the wifeage retired to the office to get some work done. 30 minutes later she came out to the kitchen to find us fully engaged in a game of charades with me on the ground acting like a dog while the kids giggled and shouted out answers. The wifeage seeing the boy having fun and not somber and remorseful for his misdeed, brought a frighteningly quick end to the game by shouting, "he's being a hot dog." And with that, both were dispatched to their rooms where they were to PJ-ify, brush their teeth and get in bed. And then she lowered the boom on me for producing fun to an otherwise priveledgeless prisoner/kid. At which point I said, "I forgot and besides...you're the heavy." Which got me banished. Her fury hath no quarter. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast