
-- Post From this Hoff's iPhone



Will opted for the Rev 50's. a 50mm deep carbon tubular rim with 20 spoke radial front and a 24 spoke 2 cross rear. He can get away with these for road and cross since hes about 5 foot nothing and a buck 30...
We're hoping with the addition of these wheels the Hoff boys will be able to pull out a couple of Ws this year. Now be it on the road or off is another story all together. Just keep a look out, odds are we'll be ahead of you... HA!


Saturday morning came too soon. I had a hangover from watching Wisconsin beat Florida State with Wisconsin-ite and good friend, The Rudeness. The Rudeness doesn't ride bikes or do anything related to physical exertion; he drinks Newcastle, eats wings and chases pussy, black pussy. Therefore, Ole Kenny was in good company. That motherfucker needs a 2009 Hoffenchard kit! But whatever. Is this post about bicycles or runnin' leg? Why can't it be about both? That post will be here sooner than later. I'm working on it. So anyway, I wake up with a nasty hangover and realize I need to meet 'Erb and Ashley for a Harbison shredfest. I make a cup of coffee, pour it into a pint glass, snort a couple rails and then load up. I meet the twosome 30 minutes later, bump fists, flap gums and then take off for a quick outside loop. Ashley splits at Spiderwoman leaving me and 'Erb to duel it out. My Ergon grip is loose and on a fiendishly steep climb, it slips- throwing me backwards at 'Erb. What the fuck? They're heavy, poorly made, vaguely related to Nazis and over-priced, but I still love 'em. After a quick repair with 'Erb's multi-tool from the late 80's (1880s), we're back on the trail shreddin'. I haven't ridden MTB in a few months and it showed in the arms. Fuck, they felt like rubber. Meanwhile 'Erb, who I should be riding into the ground, is toying with me like Mimi toys with a half-dead baby squirrel. I think 'Erb's running regimen is paying dividends. He shall crush all challengers this season in his Hoffenchard debut! So yeah, we finish the ride and meet Ashley back at the parking lot. She's hanging out, sipping cheap whiskey from a flask and complaining about "the pigs always fuckin' wit' my shit". We chat about the pigs and how they in fact do hassle us and bid adieu as 'Erb and Ashley are taking their kids to the zoo. The Brooklyn Zoo? Naw, Riverbanks. But Ashley was still packing a glock, just in case somebody started wreckless eyeballin'!