Iron Fist

There’s not many things that can possess me to leave the house on a day with 100+ degree weather and ride my bike up the side of a volcano, but the Adult Soap Box Derby is one of them.

Volcano? Sure. Mt Tabor, in southeast Portland, is an old volcano, and as Michelle pointed out not too long ago it makes Stumptown one of only two US cities with a volcano within city limits.

Adult Soap Box Derby? Oh yeah.

Only in Portland could we have an event like this: a soap box derby where teams enter their creations in either the Speed or Artsy category and race them three at a time down the sides of a volcano-turned-city park. If you can’t tell already, the one above was built for speed. As for the more artistic ones, well, how about a French snow globe?

Or a wrestling ring on wheels?

Or a logjam, or a picnic table, or a giant scorpion.

And then, at one point, you might have seen a red semi-truck rolling by and thought, “Hmm, red semi-truck, you are kind of weak. In fact you are not going fast, and now are stopping, and now you seem to be playing an oddly familiar song from my childhood, and now you are making that distinct mechanical noise I have long associated with the Autobots…and…and…holy crap, are you Optimus Prime??”

(And really, to understand how cool this was, you have to go and watch this video from one of my local Flickr contacts. Seriously, it is well worth it to watch the transformation.)

Despite the searing heat, I had a blast watching all the races. I only wish I had planned a bit better and brought some Coronas: for the day of the races only, ten feet on either side of the race track becomes a designated beer garden.

If there was one bad thing about the Adult Soap Box Derby, it would be this: I find that I no longer can bring myself to believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster. It is not due to a lack of evidence that I found my faith crumbling, not at all. It was because the fucker hosed me when he drove by:

Full photo set can be found here.

Comments(23)

I can’t think of anything to write today. So instead I give you a picture of Extremo the Clown driving around the streets of Portland in his bizarrely modified van.

Let’s hope I come up with something to write tomorrow so we don’t have to do this again.

Comments(14)

I was sitting around the house last night drinking my roommate’s beer when I suddenly had the epiphany that we only have one life to live, and only a finite amount of time upon this earth, and a vanishingly small window of opportunity to ride around naked on our bicycles with literally hundreds of other scantily-clad and like-minded individuals. I also realized that I could put off doing laundry for another day if I went to a clothing optional event.

I don’t know if there’s a World Naked Bike Ride event coming to your part of the world anytime soon, but here in Stumptown it’s Pedalpalooza time and we had ours last night. At around 10 o’clock I left my house and pedaled across town to the dance party at the starting line. I walked around for a while trying to find a few friends who I had heard were going to show up, wondering if I would even recognize any of them naked, and still debating whether or not I was actually going to go through with this. There is strength in numbers though, and something about being around other people going au naturel that gives you the courage to go ahead and disrobe and so, after sending several ridiculous twits, I started taking off my clothes until I was wearing little more than my bike shoes. Oh, and my helmet, because, you know. Safety.

Right before midnight hundreds of cyclists assembled, shivering somewhat but grinning more than anything else, and after hooting and cheering and chanting someone apparently gave the signal because all those naked bodies started moving, and we were off!

Some highlights and observations:

• I ran into a contractor our firm had let go a few months ago and moved away so he wouldn’t notice me, because asking an acquaintance whether or not he’s found new work is awkward if neither of you are wearing pants. Try it some time if you don’t believe me.
• Within the first ten minutes of the ride a fight nearly broke out in front of me when a fully clothed and completely stoned cyclist was roughed up and nearly punched by a naked cyclist, who took issue with the stoned guy’s weaving and near-collisions as we ascended a hill. “Watch out, buddy! Get the fuck off the road if you’re going to keep running into people!” said the naked guy, and the stoned guy brushed it off but sheepishly got off the road. I’m pretty sure the stoned guy was as unemployed as he was oblivious, which is a plus for him because I can’t imagine showing up for work on Monday and having to explain that my black eye was a result of a fierce bitch slapping from a cyclist without any clothes on.
• If you’re going to ride with friends, try to start the ride standing next to them or else wear some really distinctive head gear or something else to make you stand out. If you think, “surely I will recognize my friends when I see them in this crowd,” keep in mind that it’s dark and your friends may not look the way you expect if they are wearing only body paint and tape. Also, naked people start to look the same after a while.
• Bystanders love you if you’re naked, and are extremely likely to flash metal fingers at you or even high five you.
• At one point along NW 23rd I took to the sidewalk to get ahead of the crowd and attempt to catch up with my friends that were somewhere ahead of me. The waitstaff at Papa Haydn’s had gathered on the sidewalk in front of their restaurant to cheer us on and snap pictures. They were so engrossed in watching the hundreds of nude cyclists (and a skateboarder, too) that they didn’t notice me barreling in at ramming speed. I bellowed, “Waitstaff, one side! Naked guy coming through!” You wouldn’t believe the looks yelling something like that will get.
• Drivers really don’t seem to mind waiting at a stop light for minutes on end if it’s because a pack of cyclists in the buff keeps riding by. In fact they will probably lean out of their windows to cheer you on.
• Even if you show up late to one of these rides it’s okay. I passed some cyclists at an intersection on the east side that had evidently just been out for a ride but were hurriedly disrobing. “Yes! Join us! Join us!” I shouted. “There is strength in unity, naked brothers and sisters!” (Hey, I was caught up in the moment.)
• We passed the Silverado on our way through downtown, and the patrons of that club came out to salute us as only they could. Portland Gay Community, thank you for your support!
• Riding your bike at midnight sans trousers or shirt is nowhere near as cold as you think it might be.

No, I didn’t take any pictures, but given the number of camera flashes and people standing along the route with cameras in hand that I saw I’m sure some will show up. Please don’t look too hard for these. I imagine BikePortland.org will have some sort of update on the event at some point, and I’m sure there will be something on YouTube too. Someone blew past me in one of those Dutch cargo bikes with a friend in the front holding a video camera over the side, and I can only imagine how awesome that video is going to be.

Riding around wearing close to nothing with other cyclists is rather liberating, so much so that I think I will spend all of today naked, as well. This may prove troublesome later since I need to go to the grocery store at some point. Whatever.

Comments(27)

(No Pants on MAX) On MAX

Oh, Portland. You are so weird sometimes that I feel like I cannot keep up. Take ‘No Pants on MAX Day’, for example. Apparently I don’t spend enough time cruising the local Craigslist pages because I had no idea this was coming, not until I logged into Flickr this morning and saw bunches of half naked people in one of my contact’s photos. I searched around and sure enough the Mercury had a blurb about it, and so did VanPortlander, and gosh I wish I had known about this ahead of time, because if you try to participate in No Pants on MAX Day by yourself a day later, it’s usually a good recipe for getting arrested.

Ah well. There’s always next year.

Comments(9)