Five Things You Didn't Know About Me

I was recently, if you call several weeks ago, tagged to write “five things you didn’t know about me”. Well, since you actually read this blog (poor bastard); there’s not much you don’t know or couldn’t figure out. But, in the spirit of the meme, I’ll give it a shot.

1. I drink three pots of coffee a day. There is a distinct possibility that I died three years ago and the only thing keeping my synapses firing is the caffeine. Sweet caffeiney goodness. That being said, I drink the best coffee available in St. Louis. Nope, not those hacks at Kaldi’s. VJ Coffee & Teas in Chesterfield. Fantastic. Joe is the man to talk to about coffee in this town. It’s too bad he doesn’t get the love and respect he deserves. A cup of Haitian Bleu will change your life, my friends.

2. I never learned how to ride a bike. When I was five, my neighbor’s dad was trying to teach her to ride a bike. She kept falling and crying. Frustrated, he looked over at me—I was probably watching or doing something stupid at the time—and said, “I bet Gary can ride a bike.” The fact that I had never tried did not stop me. I hopped on, he gave me a shove and off I went. It was great. Shortly thereafter I got my first bike. Ironically, on that day, even though I could ride like the wind, I had no idea how to stop. My best idea was to ride at a breakneck speed into a neighbor’s garage door. It worked. Not the smartest idea I’ve ever come up with, but also not the worst.

3. On a related note, I honestly believe that every human being can instinctually ride a bike. The problem lays in the fear of falling. If you fall, you get hurt. Therefore, your natural fear instinct sets in and you freak out. Get over that simple fear and your brain will naturally figure out how to balance. Case in point, the fact that I could ride with no problem. Another case in point, my daughter was riding a two-wheeler (in the grass) when she was three—on the road at four.

4. I was once handcuffed in the backseat of a car and brought to the Creve Coeur police station. We were not doing anything specifically illegal, but I was underage, out past curfew and parked in a suspicious spot. Ironically, I was in that suspicious spot because I was afraid of getting busted for a curfew violation. Well . . . my great plan backfired. Brilliant! Oddly enough, urine was involved in some of the things we were “suspected” of doing.

5. Speaking of urine, and keeping a theme of those who tasked me with this project . . . prior to the 2006 Tour de France, I was not a Floyd Landis fan. I rooted for Levi in the Tour of California. Didn’t root too hard for anyone during Paris-Nice and was pulling for Levi again during the Tour. Of course, I rooted like hell on the stage into Morzine. And I was happy when he one. But, honestly, I wasn’t a fan. I was appreciative of his efforts and pleased with the American win, but that was about it. Oh, sure, I waxed poetic about his epic win, but I didn’t care much about him.

Then his A sample came back with a wonky testosterone ratio. It didn’t seem right to me. Yes, his ride was superhuman; yes he looked angry when he crossed the line. But cheating? I didn’t quite buy it. Lots of BS from an enormous tool at WADA and chest thumping from every corner of the sports world still didn’t convince me. Which is odd. Generally I’m ready to convict. I even questioned the Godfather of American cycling at times (I can’t say his name, lest I sleep with the fishes). But I had a hard time buying it with Floyd.

Now, of course, I’m an unabashed Floyd supporter. Go figure. I also have a distinct irritation with the cycling community—teams riders and fans—as a whole and their hypocritical, often two-faced reaction to doping and those either suspected or convicted thereof. But that’s another blog filled with anger, spite and vitriol.

That’s all I have.