So Hank and I wimped out on the Birmingham race. We woke up at 7 a.m. ready to go but looked outside at the gently falling snow and said, "No fucking way". We are from Florida after all. Instead, we slept till 4 p.m. and then rode to the bar. But what did I ride to the bar? Well, I rode my new IRO, now fully built. It was quite the ordeal. I took off work on Thursday to go to Sopo and strip my old frame and transfer everything to the IRO. I got there at like 8:30 and barely got everything I needed specialized tools and know how for before they closed at 10:00. I cant give enough props to everyone there who helped me out.
I needed some new chainring bolts, which Hank picked up for me on Friday, and I installed Friday night when Hank made it to my place around 1 a.m. That night involved installing my cranks and chainring, which was bent to all hell, hammering said chainring back into some sort of round shape, and shortening a chain with a hammer, screwdriver, and a lot of angry phone calls at 2 a.m. The end result is both beautiful and tragic.
Actually, I'm not at all sure what is tragic about it. I just threw that in for poetic license. That night also involved a trip to Kroger and going to bed at 4 a.m. knowing we would need to be up and on the road to get to the race by 7:30. Who the hell starts a race at 11 a.m. where they want people from out of town to show up? Oh well, Fixed Fight is on the horizon.