Visit Today!!!

GoldsprintsNYC Ain't All Bitches, Money and Alcohol

By Mike Dee, the Fourth

When spectators come to GoldsprintsNYC all they see is a well oiled party machine: the tunes are bumping, the racers are fast and we get topless hula-hoop dancers when we can. It’s not all that easy. This is New York City and the scene at an alleycat after-party is like feeding time at the monkey cages in the Bronx Zoo - look out for flying shit. Shit like beers, frames and fists. Luckily, our crew rolls deep.

People all over the world want us to bring the rollers to their town. We have thrown legendary parties at Asylum in Washington DC, the Double Down Saloon in Vegas, the back of a pickup in Baltimore, and at the Independent Fabrications factory. Another time in Boston, we did a race after party at the VFW in Southie. With a big smile on his face, the post commander said, “I kill people for a living.” He was smiling, but he wasn’t joking.

For urban bike peoples like us, road trips suck. Not only is it expensive but we don’t drive, so we have to get by with a little help from our friends. This past summer, the DC crew asked us to do GoldsprintsNYC as part of a multi-stage event, Destination Dublin, the winner of which got a trip to the Cycle Messenger World Championships in Ireland. Now, I’d rather take a $20 Chinese bus trip than have to sit in a car with Jeff the Wrench for eight hours. Bike mechanics are weird - it has something to do with the grease. On the drive down Jeff was so tired that he let me drive, which was exciting since the last time I drove was years ago on the island of Bali. After twenty minutes of my Indonesian-style driving, Jeff demanded we pull over before I got us killed. Being a city boy, I never had had the experience of driving around wasted in a pick-up truck and passing out in the back. Now I have.

GoldsprintsNYC is more than racing bikes on rollers. Lots of people can do that.  GoldsprintsNYC is more of an attitude. Like “I can wear my underwear outside my tights and race in a Mexican wrestling mask” or “who cares if half that PBR goes over my head, I haven’t had my beer shower today anyway?”

Check out

Photo by Ed Glazar,