Age:  35-39
Occupation:  Financial services
Home town:  Riverside, CA
Bikes:  2005 Titus Racer X; 97 Klein Pulse Race (12,000 miles and counting)--orange with all STR drivetrain, Chris King headset, SID Race forks; 2000 LeMond Buenos Aires--black with Rolf wheels.
Name of favorite bike:  Ninja Bike--this first sick ride was a chrome Laguna BMX with black mags and all Redline head/fork mix. Used it for paper route and commute to Junior High. Stolen by some Neanderthal named Eli. My dad got it back after he hoodwinked the hoodrat, but the sacred property was badly violated.
First bike:  A hand-me-down Schwinn 10spd. Good Ol' Grady, our octogenarian narcoleptic neighbor,  gave it to my dad who bequeathed it to me.  Narcolepsy is the disorder that causes sudden sleep periods, but Grady was also a big swigger of Old Grand Dad whiskey. Grady imbued me with this piece of infinite wisdom: "Son, if you're born to hang, you ain't gonna drown." Well dammit, my Schwinn was born to break because it didn't get stolen.
First mountain bike:  Bought a $300 Schwinn in July 1993, a year after a my arrival in SF. My only biking accident to date took place at the corner of Franklin and Filbert in San Francisco. A lady jumps from her Mustang begging my asphalt prone figure to, "Please don't sue me!" I didn't sue, but a sexy redhead gal from AAA got me a brand new Gary Fisher and suddenly the Marin Headlands looked safer than the paved streets.
Where really learned to ride:  It was a long process. In the first phase, what is now urban sprawl was once a vast wasteland of snakes, rocks, dust, thorns, and orange groves. My older sister and I honed our craft in 100+ degree heat before we knew water was supposed to be carried along and Blowpops weren't the only source of nutrition. During the second phase, 6th grade commute to school with daily dog chases accelerating the skill improvement. Phase 3, Los Angeles, a 7th-grader commuting through "red" neighborhoods with a "blue" bike. Check out the movie "Colors" with Sean Penn and Robert Duvall for more details; or, an 8th-grader with a paper route and more dogs chasing me, but this time at frigid 4:00 AM with a ton of newspapers to deliver.
Last bike part purchased:  Avid Single-Digit brake levers--they feel better than the last two Shimanos I've tried.

Last book read:  The Prince by Machievelli
Favorite Enlightenment philosopher:  Bob Marley; Richard Pryor
Favorite 1970s TV drama:  Monday Night Football--Howard Cossell was the only highlight show in town.
Favorite 1980s TV sitcom:
Vision for America:  Amsterdam, minus the dog shit all over the sidewalks.
Favorite politician:  Frederick Douglass, the abolitionist
Drudge Report or The Onion:
Highest title held:

Personal slogan:  A friend with tweed is a friend indeed.

Best place ever ridden:  Mammoth Mtn. Ski Resort. Summertime in the Eastern Sierras at 7,000 to 11,000 feet with endless single track is heaven on earth.
Favorite uphill leg burner: 
Mt. Diablo in the winter when snow is on the ground. Besides, the downhill makes all the work worthwhile, especially since you know hikers won't be out in numbers during the chilly months.
Favorite downhill ripper:
Grasshopper, Humboldt State Redwoods. There's something about averaging 30+ over an 8-mile descent.
What would you do if you couldn't MTB:  Hike along those trails that say "No bikes allowed" just so I could see how much singletrack is being hoarded, only to return under cover of darkness with my friends and some fat tires.

Why fat is better than skinny:  Mountain lion attacks are far less likely than swerving SUV attacks from idiots on cell phones.
First rule of Trail Karma:  Beware of the lizards--and all other wildlife for that matter.
Words you hate to hear on the trail: "Dude, I left the ---- in the car!"
Words you love to hear on the trail:  "Don't worry, I've got a lighter."



--Amalgamated TruthMakerEnterprises--