maybe now cory can be an extra in a james bond or mission impossible movie. we just need to bring back the cold war!
we knew cory less than 1094 days. during that time, he wore camoflage (sp) shants for at least 1078 of those days. for proof of this, visit fix. here is a super short foto journal looking back on the 1093 days we knew cory (or thought we did). what? i have a fever, i cant be writing some long post about cory, his stance on lugged bikes, lugged bicycles, bikes with lugs, horses, crazy french people, floppy dicks or saggy tits. I’ll save that for a whole nuther post about lugged bikes, lugged bicycles, bikes with lugs, horses, crazy french people, floppy dicks and saggy tits. cory had (when you leave the country you die, so i will only refer to cory in the past tense from now on) a penchant for dirty fingernails, dirty palms, floors, kitchens (his bathroom was suprizingly clean) bedrooms, living rooms, (when i first met cory, this isnt a lie, he had mark and I over for a beer (sorry me and mark) (where is mark anyway?) and we drank beers out a fridge that was in his ‘living room’ aka a log cabin with no furniture except for a fridge that you had to reach across a fairly large hole in the floor to get to.), cars that smelled like feet and raw meat, clothes that had huge holes that had been patched with fabrics that didnt match at all, homemade hats of various unsundry, bikes that looked like crap and barely rode in a straight line (he used chicken fat for grease) ect ect.
since we knew him, he spent at least 12,000 pounds sterling on new bikes, all of which would have looked super hotness, but he would abeways find a way to ruin them somehow. he would put dirty diaper looking saddle covers on 2000 dollar mtn bikes, and tape floor pumps to his downtubes. i suppose thats what made cory, cory. cory.
cory.
anyway, here are the pictures, which as yet dont include any fotos of lugged bikes, lugged bicycles, bikes with lugs, horses, crazy french people, floppy dicks or saggy tits. nor are thy illustrative of cory’s stance on lugged bikes, lugged bicycles, bikes with lugs, horses, crazy french people, floppy dicks or saggy tits.
desperate attempt to get linked by wonkette again: cory at the dirtiest bike messenger race ever. we got dead fucking last and cory when home with a grundle of czech sex toys. a sign of things to come. (yeah i know he had already met veronika)
cory with granola jacki pheland. ( i cant spell or exactly remember how to pronounce her last name) cory traded his prized banjo for jaqui’s (sp?) beer. rumor has it she doesn’t ride a lugged bike, nor does she own a horse.
crazy french people! on horses! oh wait, its just cory (center) his mom, (wacky) and dad (not drunk, but looks it), at the wild west party, where there was plenty of lugged horses. and by that i mean lugged bicycles.
cory getting ready for his bit part in the new james bond flick. little does he know that it
takes place in france, where crazy french people, with horses live.
we’ll miss you cory, god bless america, what?! were you born in a barn, jesus mary and joseph, west by god virginia, wade benson. maybe you never return. (without bearing cheap foreign made gifts)
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That post really makes it feel like he’s dead. Especially with the photo montage. It’s sad to think that he won’t be on any more bike tours aka bicycle tours aka randonees. No more 24 hours races. no more lugged bicycles or bicycles with lugs. No more wool, wooly nelson, nelson mandela, etc.
I remember the first time I met Cory.
Cory please remember to report on the blog about any great lugged bicycles or really hot lugs that you see over there on the other side.
I don’t have a fever, I’m just doped up optimizin.
i actually do have a fever. and a hacking, super flemy cough. i bet it will help with my yiddish toast though.
i’ve already learned how to say lugged bikes, lugged bicycles, bikes with lugs, horses, crazy french people, floppy dicks or saggy tits in yiddish. i just need to learn how to say get your fingering finger out my eye, McCain.
I spent the last hours of tuesday drinking frozen Maker’s Mark in the shanty of great emptiness and swilling down Miller High Lifes over in the other house burning fine hard woods in the new fireplace with Cory. The first hours of Wednesday found me riding the Monocog 29er towing a child trailer with a trainer, a tent, a box of forks, a box of random bike parts, a Kona mountain bike, a Kona mountain bike frame, and a butt ugly Norco downhill frame precariously balancing in it while being followed by Cory in his car full of bike parts leaning out the window taking flash pictures of me and somehow still managing to not drive into things whilst enroute to my once empty but now fully stocked shed of antiquities…and by that I mean, fairly expensive bikes and parts of bikes.
I’m sad I won’t be able to touch Cory deeply with my bare hands for awhile…yeah, I meant that to sound totally gay.
Qbert
not dead yet…
but on the ground in czechia again.
he hath risen from the deadness!
you guys are making me cry. it’s not like the czech fuckin republic is THAT far away. and cory is certainly not dead; he’s just busy with veronika (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). when he comes up for air, there will be more overseas bike lovin. and i bet cory will send you, james, some of his pre-postcommunism hot pants if you’re super sweet.