Some Visual Delights from on Holiday at Oregon Manifest

There was this place I went, and they had fancy bicycles. It's called Portland, and they fancy themselves the birthplace of all cycloization. I saw some pretty... well, pretty bicycles.
Troubling though, is this obsession with Cyclocross that Portland has. I never saw the appeal of running through the mud carrying my bike when I could either ride through the mud and over the barriers on the MTB, or simply stay at home where it was warm and play Grand Theft Auto whilst drinking Hamm's. The simple truth of the matter is, I was there "way back when" and I missed the boat altogether. Now everyone has a cyclocross bike and I don't, so getting one now would just paint me a poser in splattered Wellies. Anyhoo, there were "cross" roller races sponsored by Rapha that involved riding a lap on the stationary bike and running around the joint with a Huffy en portage. A dangerous proposition since most winners of the stationary sprint lost under the crushing weigh of their high tensile steel burden, vanquished by the laden of better obstacle jumping skill. It was a noisy and hectic event, one I might not have attended were it not for the laissez-faire MC savant of John Walrod, one of my favorite PDX people. More photos on Flickr maybe... I found solace in the Portland experience at the workshop of a certain Joseph Ahearne, where he and a mutual friend of ours, Mr. Michael Muzik, enjoyed stringing up the bow, and went vegan bear hunting. It turns out I still have my Grand-pappy's dead eye, and I got a clean kill right through the fierce beast's heart. Many thanks to Drewish for his hospitality, hotel Reno- yo!