A Note from Fatty:Team Fatty member Michael Schechter (who comments as “Kamala”) has an outstanding article about him in in The Stranger.Read it!
If you ride a bike, there’s a good chance you have a lot of water bottles. Where, originally, you had a few that took up a corner of a shelf, you’ve now got that shelf completely filled, and are spilling out onto a second. Little by little — event by event — you’ve collected enough bottles that you now could go on two-bottle rides every day for a month without washing a single bottle.
I am not recommending you do that, by the way. I was being hypothetical and stuff.
The problem with having so many bottles is: most of these bottles are terrible. After a few washes, the valves don’t work right, turning them into dribble glasses. Furthermore, thanks to a bylaw passed more than 20 years ago by the powerful Bicycle Water Bottle Manufacturers’ Conglomerate (BWBMC), any bottle with a screw-top lid made by one manufacturer must be threaded differently than the bottle/lid combination of every other manufacturer, so that while all your lids and bottles look like they’d work together, in reality they will not.
There is a separate BWBMC statute that encourages all bottle manufacturers to slightly change their bottle / threading methodology on a bi-annual basis, so that your 2005 bottles will not work with your 2006 bottles.
Then, of course, there’s the whole “top-of-drawer” (AKA “Last in, first out”) thing: no matter how many bottles you own, the one you most recently used is likely to be the one you use again next time.
The practical upshot is: there’s a good chance you’ve got a few bottles that you really use a lot, and a ridiculous number of bottles you will never use at all. Ever.
Today, I will help you solve this important and urgent (that’s Quad 1, folks, and is not to be taken lightly) problem, by showing you several excellent ways you can modify your water bottles for alternative uses around the home.
Oh, and also there’s a contest with a topically-relevant prize at the end of the post. Don’t you dare scroll down to see what it is, though.
That would be cheating.
Musical Modifications
Like most people, the first thing I think of when considering ways in which a water bottle might be adapted to other purposes is musical instrument.
The first thing I tried was as easy as it was effective. A handful of coins in a couple of unmodified water bottles makes for an awesome set of ad-hoc maracas. Before long, I was dancing and maraca-ing up a storm.
I actually took video of this. I really did. And then I watched it this morning and realized something: I apparently do have limits as to what I will show on this blog.
I will tell you this, however: It looked a lot like this.
Besides, the maracas idea is a little too easy. That’s not really modifying your bottles; that’s just adding some change.
So I made a horn. Sort of. Kind of a foghorn, really. Or, to be honest, a long cylinder that makes it easy to imitate the old Ricola commercials.
It sounds like this:
You want one now, don’t you? Of course you do. And I’d give you the instructions, but…um…I think the picture pretty much tells you everything you need to know.
Turn a Water Bottle Into an Extremely Versatile Container
“Yes, yes, Fatty,” I hear you impatiently saying, “musical instruments are all well and good. But what if I want to repurpose my water bottles for a more utilitarian purpose?”
I understand completely. And that is why, after considerable thought and effort, I have come up with this innovation:
Yes, it’s a toothbrush holder! But it’s so much more. Behold:
It’s an office supplies holder!
I know your head is already reeling from these two incredible ideas, but I am now going to blow your mind with the versatility of this design. You can — and should — use this water bottle adaptation for a wide variety of things, including:
Dinner cups. You may want to advise your guests to be a little bit careful when they touch their lips to their cup’s rims. Those rims can be a little ragged.
Nail holder. If you have a lot of nails that need holding, this may well become your very best friend. Which would be both convenient and kind of sad.
Liquid soap dispenser: Fill this up with liquid soap and put it by the sink. People can dispense by tipping the dispenser and letting gravity do its thing. Soap dispenser pumps are for sissies.
Bucket for drawing water from a very small well. I don’t think this one needs any explanation.
Really, I could go on. The possibilities are as endless as our ever-growing need to contain things that have a diameter smaller than a racquetball and a total volume of less than 20 fluid ounces.
Apparel Options
It’s become very common and popular to wear latex bands showing your support for a cause. So common and so popular, in fact, that I would go so far as to say that it has become passe. When, for example, was the last time you asked someone what their orange-colored latex band stood for? When was the last time you even noticed someone was even wearing one of those bands.
Well. I have the solution.
Instead of wearing a latex band supporting a cause, just cut a ring out of a water bottle and put it on your wrist. Like so:
Here I am, showing my support — with both wrists — of Trek’s “1 World 2 Wheels” project. From the look on my face, you can tell that I am extremely serious about my support. And also that I don’t have a lot of fashion sense. And also that it’s been about a week since I last shaved my head. And also that I have droopy Deputy Dog eyes.
But your water bottles can be used for more than simple clothing adornment. They can also be adapted into really excellent forearm guards:
Not only do these make you look and feel like some sort of gladiator-superhero hybrid, they’re excellent for defending you against thrown objects, as long as those objects are not thrown very hard and aren’t sharp.
Festively Advanced Techniques
Really, everything that came before was just fluff. I’d apologize for wasting your time, but I think that if you’ll be candid with yourself you kind of knew what you were getting yourself into when you came to the site.
Anyways.
What I really wanted to show you was how you can make a really awesome and beautiful art object from a bottle.
Step 1. Get a bottle (Hi Sportgenic! Thanks for selling ads on my site, making me rich beyond my wildest dreams!).
Step 2. Cut almost all the way around the bottle many times, leaving the same area uncut on each ring.
Step 3. Bend into a beautiful circle. Secure with zip ties.
I know a few infidels among you are asking, “Why?” To which I answer, cryptically, “Art is its own reason.”
Also, you could use it as a Christmas tree ornament, or make a bouquet by making several of them and using spokes for stems. Men, your wives will love it if you do that. And I’m sure your masterpiece will find a place of honor in your home.
Oh, and you can also spiral-cut a bottle to make a Water Bottle Slinky:
The kids think this is the coolest thing I have ever made. Ever. Though my 16-year-old seemed a little bit concerned.
“What,” he asked, “made you think you should cut a water bottle into a slinky?”
I confess I did not have an answer prepared.
But What About the Lids?
As you make your life more and more wonderful each day by implementing the techniques shown here, you will no doubt begin to notice a new problem:
What should you do with all the lids?
And I must confess, I am stumped. The lids are a conundrum. I have tried making them into goggles. Dreidels. Earmuffs.
Disasters, each and every time.
I am at a loss.
Win a Michael Rasmussen-Signed Water Bottle!
And this is where you come in. In the comments area, describe — or better yet, include a photo — of how you would repurpose your water bottle lids. Ideas for water bottle repurposing are also acceptable submissions, because I have a generous nature and a heart of gold.
The winner, chosen by me, will get this:
Yes, that’s right. A Michael Rasmussen-signed Rabobank water bottle. For real. From back in the halcyon days of 2007. Here’s another pic, so you can admire the signature more completely:
I cannot think of a more awesome collector’s item than this, and I am trying really hard.
I have many admirable qualities. I have a twinkle in my eye, for example, and a ready smile. I have a firm handshake and can be relied upon to repay loans to friends.
Furthermore, I keep my hair neatly trimmed, chew with my mouth closed, and shower every single day.
I guess you could say that I am very nearly a perfect man.
However, in the midst of my nearly innumerable strong points is one — yes, only one! — failing: I need positive reinforcement.
No, “need” is too weak a word. I require it. Demand it. Crave it. Dream about it.
Which means, from time to time, I’m going to ask you to go vote for me for some award or another. It’s just part of who I am. A tiny imperfection in what would be — I think you’ll agree — an otherwise perfect specimen of a man.
But right now I am not going to ask you to vote for me. No. Because right now it’s Bloggie nomination time, and so I am begging you to go nominate me.
Asking for a vote is much different than begging for a nomination, you see.
Here’s what I would like you to do. It’s a pain, so you may actually need to follow the steps here:
Nominate me and a couple of other blogs. The award I’m really gunning for is best sports blog, though I wouldn’t complain if you nominated me for other categories, too. Because I’m shameless. Anyway, you have to nominate at least three different blogs, so here are some suggestions of who to nominate and for what:
Check the box that says you wouldn’t mind being on the panel of voters who chooses the finalists.
Enter your email address. It’s important you don’t enter a bogus one, because you’ll have to verify your vote by email.
Click the “Submit Your Nominations” button.
Go to your email inbox. Within a minute, there should be a mail from “Weblog Awards” with the subject “Tenth Annual Weblog Awards vote verification.” If there isn’t, check your spam folder.
Click the URL in the email to verify your vote.
Please Hurry. I’m (Still) Begging You
The nomination period for this award ends this Tuesday. Now, I don’t know if that means it ends right at the beginning or at the end of Tuesday. Regardless, there isn’t much time.
So please facilitate my personality defect and go vote for me now.
Consider this: if I win the “Best Sports Blog” category here, it’ll be my third time, and I won’t be eligible to win it again after that. Which means I’ll leave you alone.
That right there is enough of a reason to go nominate me right now, if you ask me.
A Note from Fatty: Part II in the video series about my weekend with Team RadioShack is now posted. Check it out:
In today’s video, you’ll see me ogling the signed Madone, as well as drooling on my own. This is also the video where Johan Bruyneel and I present the giant checks for LiveStrong and World Bicycle Relief.
If you missed the first installment of this series, check it out here.
The Ride Begins
I always experience an odd moment at the beginning of a major ride or race. Just before it begins, I think something along the lines of, “It’s finally here. It’s starting in just a few seconds. This thing I’ve been thinking of as ‘in the future’ is about to become the present.”
This thought is usually accompanied by a twinge of nausea. Or, in this case, by a pretty big batch of nausea.
But then I start riding, and the nervousness goes away and I start enjoying the ride or race or whatever.
Except in this case, the nervousness just changed.
For the first hour or more of the ride, I never took either hand off the bars, not even to get a drink. Whenever we stopped at a light, I unclipped well ahead of stopping. I focused constantly on keeping a good distance behind the next bike, and was careful never to suddenly brake or stand.
I just did not want to crash these guys out.
That said, the first several miles — from the hotel to the base of the Mt. Lemmon climb — was easy. The road was flat, and people were talkative. I stayed in the middle of the pack, riding and talking with the U23 racers (Ben King of Australia shown with me here).
After riding a while (45 minutes? An hour?), we reached the base of the climb. Feeling good, feeling fresh, with adrenaline surging, I drifted toward the front.
Every couple of minutes, Johan would pull up beside me in the team car and ask, “How’re you feeling? How’s the bike? You doing OK?”
I’m pretty sure Johan was concerned for my health…as well as for his riders’ safety.
We eventually narrowed into (more or less) two columns, with me and Chris Horner — yeah, really — in second position.
And then the riders setting the pace dropped back, and I was in front.
Now, I would assert that I did a pretty good job holding the pace where it was. I learned later, however, that there was some grumbling toward the back about “Fatty ramping the pace up right at the beginning of the climb.”
And by “toward the back” I mean “by Lance Armstrong.”
Yes — and I believe this was caught on film — Lance complained about my pace.
Which may be the single most awesome thing that has ever happened to me.
Getting Some Help and Advice
I dropped back a little after a few minutes of pulling — and Lance rode up alongside of me.
“Pull those armwarmers down, Fatty, or you’re going to overheat,” he said. And then, “This climb’s 25 miles long, and you’ve got a car beside you. You don’t need any extra weight; give me that second bottle.”
Which I did, without — to my relief — crashing Lance out.
We then rode and talked for several minutes — honestly, just chatter. He mentioned he really likes the 2010 Fat Cyclist kit, and asked me to send him a jersey, socks, and set of armwarmers.
I believe I can oblige him on that.
Then Lance rode forward, moving on to talk with someone else. Putting me in the surreal position of sucking Lance’s wheel.
Then, as Daniel the video guy leaned out the window with his camera, Lance dropped back and said, “Put your hand on my back like you’re giving me an assist up the hill.”
And that brings up one of the most interesting things about my ride with Team RadioShack — what Lance is like on the bike. I noticed him moving back and forth in the group, talking and joking with his teammates — especially with the U23 riders — and looking like he was having a great time.
I kinda got the sense that this is the “real” Lance. A guy who loves riding his bike, and who loves riding with his team.
Which sounds pretty familiar.
The Fuse, The Bomb
About nine miles into the climb, I found I was having a hard time staying with the group. I was maxed out, and it wasn’t enough. I kept asking myself, “Am I losing power, or are they accelerating?”
I was pretty sure they were accelerating.
Half a mile later, I knew it was over — I couldn’t hold their pace any longer. “Goodnight everybody,” I said in my Donny and Marie voice.
“No way, Fatty,” replied Taylor Phinney, and he gave me a push back to the group.
I dropped back a couple more times, each time getting a boost back to the group by various riders.
And then, around mile ten, it happened. They accelerated. Hard. They just flew up the hill.
Within moments, I was at the back.
And then, moments later, I was shot out the back, babysat by a couple of club riders who were along with the group. Though I do take solace in the fact that I was able to catch and drop one of the U23 sprinters.
And after the club riders peeled off, I was completely alone.
OK, the truth is, I was never completely alone. Because Johan told one of the team cars to stay with me at all times — piloted by Philippe, with Glenn taking all these great photos. And with The Runner cheering me on.
I can’t even tell you how many times I was given an opportunity to pull over and throw my bike in the back, calling it a day. But here’s the thing: would you, given the opportunity to ride with (and eventually be dropped by) a top pro team, want to finish the ride by abandoning?
No, me either. So I kept climbing.
Then I saw the pros start coming down. Flying. Several of them yelling “Go Fatty!” as they went by.
Or maybe they were yelling “Slow Fatty!” Hard to know for sure.
But it reminded me a lot of Leadville — the way the fast guys on their way down are willing to shout some encouragement for the slower guys still working on getting to the top. Very, very cool of them.
I kept climbing.
The End
And then the team car passed me and waved me over. “You’ve passed the turnaround point,” Philippe said.
“Whu?” I replied.
“About half a mile ago. That’s where everyone else turned around.”
“So I’m the first one to get here?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
At which point I drew an imaginary finish line on the road and crossed it. “I win,” I said.
I was fully expecting to freeze to death on the descent — snow was more than a foot deep on either side of the road, and the wind was cold and strong.
So I have Glenn to thanks for my life: he loaned me the jacket he was wearing.
Knowing that I would never catch the pros on the descent — they had a massive lead on me and were increasing that lead every second — I cruised comfortably down the road. Enjoying the view. Considering that I had been on a ride with the pros.
And making sure I turned whenever the road did.
By the time I got back to the hotel, everyone else had been back for half an hour or so. Still, Johan was out in the lot, waiting for me. We talked about the bike, and talked about the ride.
Then, after a quick shower (and after somehow managing to not lay down and take a nap) I met Johan and Lance for lunch, where they assessed my riding performance (mediocre but tenacious) and told me what my big surprise is: I get to bring my family to the Tour of California for a stage, and ride in the team car. Lance suggested I try to be there for a mountaintop finish stage. Which sounds pretty darn good to me.
And then we talked about doing it again next year.
PS: I’m heading out right now to be interviewed for The Story, a public radio talk show hosted by Dick Gordon. Assuming I don’t completely freeze up and stutter and pass out, this interview should air sometime in mid-January. I’m nervous as can be. Wish me luck.
A Note from Fatty About the Contest Winners: Congratulations to the big winners of the contest from last week!
Roger L, the winner of the custom-painted “FattyFly,” is yet another bike winner from New Jersey. I do not know why New Jersey-ites keep winning bikes. Maybe they are more likely as a populace to donate, and so the probability of their winning is higher? This photo is of Roger, evidently about to clear the water crossing. Roger says, however, “what you don’t see is me trying to dab a second after this photo is taken. Instead, my clipless pedals won’t let me out and I end up going for a swim. Those photos mysteriously vanished from the camera — the camera must have gotten wet. My trusty Gary Fisher Sugar let me down, maybe 29″ wheels would have been the trick.” Roger’s now faced with a conundrum: get the orange version of the FattyFly, or the pink? If it were my bike and I were choosing the colors, I’d go with the orange, but that’s just me. Feel free to help Roger out by weighing in on this very difficult choice in the comments. I’m sure he’ll take your advice under advisement.
David H, the winner of the Team RadioShack-autographed Trek Madone, is from Missouri. David’s bike is already on the way to him; he’ll have it in a few days. I have lost track of how many times people have said to me, “He sure as heck better not be planning to ride that thing.” Because, yeah, it’s definitely a collector’s item. David reports that “I’m a cyclocross fanatic and am a huge Richard Sachs and Jonathon Page fan.” And further, that he has “been riding and racing for 10 years and am the fastest 42 year old that lives on my street.”
Andrea S, the winner of the trip to see the Tour de France,is also from Missouri– but she doesn’t yet know she has won! You see, Andrea did not provide a phone number when she donated, and the email address she entered does not work. So, if you’re named Andrea S, and you donated, and you’re from Missouri, email me and prove to me you are therightAndrea by telling me your full name and address. And give me a phone number I can call, for pity’s sake.Update: Andrea has now checked in, and I have her contact info. Congratulations, Andrea!
Again, thanks to everyone who donated — with more than 3700 people donating reasonably small amounts of money — an average of around $35 — we were able to raise a huge — $135,000 — amount of money in a ridiculously short period of time. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of my readers, who are evidently the most generous people in the world.
And now, onto the story.
Riding With The Shack, Part I – The Night Before the Ride
I could tell this was not going to be an ordinary trip before we even made it to baggage claim. (I say “we,” because as a beloved and increasingly famous and important cycling blog megastar, I deemed it necessary to bring along an assistant. The Runner would be acting in that capacity, though she was quite clear that her real reason for coming along was to accomplish one of her life objectives: to lick one of Lance Armstrong’s calves.)
You see, there was a guy — Glenn, of Capital Sports Entertainment — waiting there for us. And a cameraman (Daniel). They had a sign and everything.
(All photos from today’s post taken by Glenn Kasin, who is a great photographer as well as logistics guy and babysitter of award-winning superstar megabloggers)
We drove to the resort, talking the whole way. I of course had two very big questions on my mind:
What is the big surprise Johan has in mind for me?
What kind of ride was in store for me tomorrow?
They gave me no satisfaction — not even a hint — on the first question. For the second question, they did give me a hint: “Do you like lemons?”
A few years ago, that would not have been a very good hint. But that was then. Nowadays, it’s plenty. I got out my phone, went to the browser app, and did a search on “tucson lemon.” Within seconds, I knew that it’s actually Mount Lemmon (two “m’s”), which is both beautiful, and a monster of a climb.
We arrived at the parking lot, and while we were pulling out luggage, the second thing happened that made me realize this was going to be no ordinary trip: Johan Bruyneel — Director of Team RadioShack — walked up, shook my hand…and then gave me a big hug.
We talked for about ten minutes — him completely calm, me a stuttering swooning goofball.
I had just met Johan Bruyneel. Seriously. Furthermore, he told me that I hadn’t needed to bring a bike with me after all. They had decided to give me a bike to ride. “You mean loan, right?” I asked.
“No, this is for you to keep,” said Johan, offhandedly.
At which point I began to stutter, but I choose not to replicate that here.
“Seriously? Another one? This must be the big surprise you were talking about, right?”
“No, you’ll learn what that is tomorrow,” said Johan. He was enjoying this.
And so was I.
Dinner
I checked into my room — an extremely nice room, I should say; substantially nicer than a Motel 6, for example — and headed downstairs, where Johan waved me over to join him at his table.
Dinner was buffet style: pasta with marinara sauce, chicken, potatoes, salad. Exactly what you’d expect. We started eating before most of the team had arrived — dinner was buffet style.
Viatcheslav Ekimov — “Eki” — was sitting a couple tables away. “Do you know who Eki is?” asked Johan.
Well, yeah.
“Eki, this is Fatty,” Johan called out.
“Hey, Fatty,” waved Eki.
“How’s it going, Eki?” I shouted back, not really knowing what else to say at that moment.
Surreal.
I got down to serious journalism, then, and asked Johan, “So, do any of your riders get fat during the winter?”
“Oh yes,” said Johan. “That’s one of the reasons we have these training camps, so the riders can see each other and put pressure on the ones who have gained weight.”
“Really?” I asked. “These skinny guys?”
“Some of them put on several kilos during the winter,” replied Johan. “In fact…” He began to point, and then thought better of it.
Somehow, I find it comforting that pro cyclists put on winter flub, too.
And then Lance came in. He waved and yelled, “Hey Fatty!”
As usual, I demonstrated my total suaveness, and said, “Thanks for being here.”
“Well, thanks for having me,” replied Lance, clearly curious as to exactly what kind of drugs I was on.
Yes, that is The Runner sitting beside me in that photo. Caught off-guard by his unexpected appearance, she did not at that moment ask Lance if she could lick one of his calves.
Around then, Levi Leipheimer and Chris Horner came in too, sat down, and began eating.
It took a while, but I screwed up my courage and went over to talk to them.
It turns out that I really hadn’t needed to worry, because right as I got there, Levi looked up and said, “I am so sick of pasta marinara and potatoes.”
“Yeah,” replied Chris, “But the giant cookies they have here never get old.”
You don’t get quotes like that reading VeloNews, folks.
By the way, Brad, you owe me $50 for wearing your shirt (Brad outbid Bike Snob NYC by $5.00)
After dinner, as I was heading back to my room, Lance hopped (not literally) into the elevator I was taking up. “You know we’re riding Mount Lemmon tomorrow, right?” he asked.
“Someone mentioned that, yes,” I replied. “Is that good or bad?”
“It’s a 25-mile climb,” said Lance. “And 6,000 feet of gain.” The elevator was at his floor now. Lance looked over as he got off.
