The head Donut guy
October 23, 2015 § 19 Comments
His head was tilted to one side, he was slurring his words and gesticulating.
So I stood there in my tuxedo and listened.
“Ya see,” he said, “There’s a bigger chain ring they’re gonna make for me, see? Now I’ve only got fifty teeth, ya see? But the new one, it’s gonna have fifty-four or five or six, ya see?” He shaped the bigger chain rings with his hands.
“Yes, I see.”
“And they’re gonna put that on my bike, ya see?”
“Yes, I see.”
“And then you know what I’m gonna do?”
“Pay for it?”
“No,” he said. “I mean of course I’ll pay for it, but you know what I’m gonna DO?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m gonna beat the head Donut guy.” He paused for effect. “Ya see?”
I didn’t see at all. Not even a little bit. “How? I mean, the way things stand you can’t even beat Prez.”
“The head Donut guy, ya see, I can’t catch him on the flats. He’s got me there. But with this bigger chain ring, ya see, I’m gonna catch him on the flats. I can already beat the head Donut guy on the hill, don’t worry about that, I can beat him there.”
I wasn’t worried at all, but I was curious. “So who’s the head Donut guy?”
The slightly unusual fellow who had walked from San Pedro to the Wanky Awards in North Torrance, an eight-mile slog one-way, and who was going to walk all the way back, cocked his head a bit more. “The head Donut guy? He’s the guy always wins the Donut race. Don’t you know him?”
“But the first rider up the hill every Saturday is different a lot of the time. There’s not really any one head Donut guy.”
He shook his head vigorously, then nodded vigorously. “Oh yes there is and I’m gonna beat him at the race next Saturday.” The head Donut guy was apparently an apparition, or a symbol, or a metaphor. Or maybe he couldn’t tell us apart because of our glasses and helmets. Or maybe he just meant Wily.
This fellow was well known around the peninsula for riding a 40-pound MTB, shirtless, in baggy shorts, and sporting giant clodhopper work boots. He was a seal clubber of sorts. Despite his appearance he was viciously strong and loved nothing more than trolling for kitted out baby seals. He’d approach them slowly, out of the saddle, then pass them slowly.
Outraged, they’d give chase on their $10k rigs and he’d dangle. After a minute or so they’d be on the rivet and he’d pull away, leaving their self image in ruins.
But he couldn’t hang with “the Donut race” so he’d hop in with various shellees ascending the Switchbacks, pound for a while, and get dropped.
“The head Donut guy,” he repeated. “I’m gonna beat him. You’ll see.” He wandered off. Wearing a shirt and long pants he looked halfway normal.
But what weird ideas he had bouncing around in his head! What strange fixations were propelling him around the hill, driving him to walk sixteen miles in a single evening just to tell me his strategy against the head Donut guy, whoever that was! He was ricocheting around in an alternate universe, delusional, trying madly to find a wormhole back to reality.
Just like me.
END
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Cycling in the South Bay 
He walked there? Wow. I nominate him for head seal clubber.
AND HE WALKED HOME.
Some beginning riders think “if I had a bigger chainring I could go faster” and the experienced riders know that is not necessarily true and they would be right. This is different. The subject rode 200 miles per week for 2 years on a 48. The next 2 years 300 miles per week on a 50.90% of these miles are climbing. 2 more years on a 52. Time will tell.
To the seals and those head Donut guys. When you see the subject in your space, don’t get mad, just think Seth’s last three words,”just like me” Smile big and ride hard.
He’ll need to drop some of the lead on that 40-lb. bike.
I offered him a ride home😉He asked if I was the girl who soaked up all the blood on his head that day after his crash😁 Yep that was me who almost fainted lol
Haha! He walked, though.
……..And me!
His spiritual analog in Downtown LA and the San Gabriel Valley is a rider named Juan I. Mr I shows up to all the fast rides helmetless, wearing baggy shorts and a tshirt. Over the last couple of years he’s upgraded his bike from a late-80s mtb to a mid-90s road bike. Whenever I’d see him after the World Famous Rose Bowl Ride or Montrose, he’d show me pictures on his phone of deep carbon wheels. And in Spanish he’d ask, “$1000 a good price for these?” I always discouraged him from buying used generic carbon wheels since I was told he worked as a busboy and due to compatibility issues; the guy was riding a single speed for a long stretch. Well, last week he finished Montrose with one of the faster groups. I checked out this equipment: Walmart Schwinn w/ Zipp 404s converted to 5 speed. “I only need 5 gears.”
Oh, two more things about Juan. He rocks mustache bars and refuses to ride road drops (tho he did for a few weeks last season because I warned him about impaling other riders). And with those mustache bars, he raced and won a stage in the Tour of Oaxaca.
I’m reading this saying out loud,”oh my God”. I don’t have a chance.
Greg
Oh my dog! None of us does.
The legs, the legs. Always the legs.
“I only need 5 gears” That is great. I only need 5x2x2+2!
I only need one leg.
Juan I. cruising in the back so the “elite” masters in front wont yell at him:
Elite masters sounds ridiculous even in quotes.
love it. …long live the “just like me” attitude.
Wankers unite! Or untie.
He should be there tomorrow with his new teeth. Let us know how he does.
Ran into him this morning going down the reservoir. “I beat you!” he said.