BATTLE OF THE BOOGIES

Sunshine.. moonlight.. good times.. boogie..!! If you're NOT thinking Michael Jackson now, the odds are that you know your way around UFO's and have funny ears. Either way, you better think twice.
Because in September 1978, it were good times indeed for the Jackson brothers who, after five consecutive flops, reentered the higher echelons of the Billboard Hot 100 again. At the same time, a certain Michael Jackson got no further than #61 with his single Blame it on the Boogie. This second Michael, usually referred to as Mick, was the 30 year old bearded Brit who actually wrote the disco hit that was sold by his manager to Joe Jackson who was in dear need for an edgier sound to feed to the money machine that sprang from his loins. Not only did this manager 'forget' to inform Mick, he also failed to get that royalties thingy in the sales contract. The rest = history. 
Mick Jackson, now working from Germany, is still very much enjoying his good health and career, in which he worked with musical misfits as David Knopfler and Lisa Stansfield (not getting any Boogie bucks, a man has to do the occasional dirty job to make some money) but also with the gorgeous Barry Manilow. The full documentary about the Yorkshire Jacko is found here.

HOW TO FIRE UP YOUR OLD BRAKE..

.. and stop some mosquito's! Let's ALL raid our girlfriends' bathroom cabinet and BUILD THIS for our home convenience! Also as a tribute to the great artist Johannes Vogl of course.    

BLACK SNOW

Today, Melvin is recovering from seeing 'black snow'. For my non Dutch / Flemish readers: continue reading to up your cycling vocabulary. 

Having felt rather feeble the last week, I decided to start yesterday's Veenendaal-Veenendaal Tour anyway. After all, it was a 135 kms recreational ride, my friends were going and if I didn't do anything too macho I'd be OK I reckoned. All rolled out according to plan and after 115 kms I was still very much enjoying the saddle time. So when the speed suddenly increased to 37 km/h against a strong headwind, I eagerly went with the jump. It wasn't long, however, before I started feeling a little weird, which I tried to cure by focusing on the guy pulling our peloton: a thin legged architect in his dad's cycling gear on a beat up Colnago. Denying the clear 'red flag' quality of this vehicle, I decided that it would bring eternal shame upon me if I wouldn't even be able to wheel-suck the frail bastard. I soldiered on for another kilometer and then witnessed the gruppo pedaling away with my heart rate monitor at 182 beats per minute. This figure being substantially higher than my score on the Ventoux, the 1,1 km climb that followed was all it took to finish me off. At it's 'top', I encountered a terrible, terrible blizzard. Snow cut short both breath and vision, hampered my every move and got me wondering for the right direction. In Holland, there's only one kind of snow able to hit you that hard: black snow.
'Having seen black snow' (zwarte sneeuw) is an old Flemish expression, indicating that someone has seen extreme poverty. It is believed that the unlikely imagery of black snow relates to the unthinkable hardness experienced. Nowadays, the phrase is almost exclusively used to describe an athlete who has blown all his resources but gives it his all regardlessly, making an unimaginable effort. The expression also neatly resembles the physical sensation of seeing black spots (explained here). Melvin really likes it when language has a poetical and practical quality at the same time, and thinks the metaphore deserves to go global. It's up to you now! 
As for the guy in the picture, it's Erik Breuking. The Dutch Tour prospect of the nineties was famous for winning time trials by riding through black snow harder than anyone else. He wasn't too bad in real snow either, check his heroic Giro win in the 1988 stage over the Gavia.