Part 3 - Boise, Idaho: Cycling paradise, Audio Club nerds. House buy. EB Whiskey

 

Dateline: 2018-19. I had the good fortune in meeting a few cyclists who were actually funny & athletic. Lots of cyclists out there. Most are either absurdly self-absorbed or brain numbingly yawners or social misfits. Don't believe me? Join a cycling club. I've joined many, in several states. Cycling is mostly a loner activity, even in clubs. The sport attracts social misfits. I'm one of them; relative to the bland personality majority, I have the self-awareness to self-identify.

Let's focus

One of those groups is Lactic Acid Cycling / LAC. Some were even normalish. Long Saturday morning rides. Midweek also. Rode with them for years. They're in the green jerseys if you see them around town. Do you know Australian Border Collies? They round up cattle, & ppl sometime. That's what this LAC leader is, precisely. Rides fore & aft, keeping us together. Thankless job. Another member fancied himself the database of bad puns. He would share one to the group before every ride. Comedy quotient: zero. Category: social misfit. I was riding a long one (that's what she said) in N. ID w/EB Whiskey (she's coming up) and bad pun guy suddenly rode up to us. Within 30 seconds he starts shouting 'FLAT! FLAT!' Rider code is typically stop to help out but we just kept riding. Dude rides up to us on a 100 miler & immediately flats? Don't think so. 

This was my Boise garage. Many Boise garages look like this. At the time, 2 titanium road bikes, 1 carbon mtn bike, 1 alum graveller:

The other big club there is Lost River Cycling, in the orange jerseys. Mostly racers, Mostly cool guys. Hard core training rides Sundays & Wed. I wrote about a sucky week with them at their annual Palm Desert winter training week. Check it out. 

Did a few absurdly gigantic rides, such as the infamous 'Boise Big Loop' a rite of passage for true roadies there. 150 miles of brutality:

This route runs counterclockwise from Boise all the up to Lowman wtf. I rode it in 2017 with 8.5 hrs of pedal time. Then again 2019 an hour slower. I remember a few hours from finish losing my mojo, not caring, and watching my friends ride off. I stopped for an extra-long lunch & decided to semi-enjoy the pain at a more relaxed pace. 

On and the gravel riding. Some of the best in the country has to be in Idaho. Never graveled before moving there, outside of one single epic in North Carolina, at the Linville Gorge aka the Grand Canyon of the east. One oh so difficult gravel ride was the 'Gran Fondo Hincapie Recon loop' in 2018 for an upcoming 'Gran Fondo' in the national series. I did a few of those in NC. This was exciting as it was coming to Boise. 

Oddly I only did this 88 mile sufferfest & not the actual ride, when Lance came to town to ride it with George & a couple hundred others. Anyhoots what made this such a pickle as it's not technically a gravel ride; rather a road ride with gravel sections. But these gravel sections were so hyenas (soft, deep...language!) they modified the route for the official. 

But the most hyenas gravel ride was the infamous 'Iron Cross' which I only did once, never again. One of the few times I've actually 'bonked' and fully ran out of mojo (technically glucose) & had to slowly coast 10 miles to home, fortunately on a downhill. We had a SUV follow us with loads of water & whatever food we gave them to carry. Fuck that ride sucked donkey dick. Fun for the 1st few hours, then full-on hyenas. Also, weirdly, 88 miles, nearly 8 hours of pedal time. The 2 guys on left we met at a stop, they emerged from the woods, they were 'bikepacking.' Allegedly. Definitely suspicious. 

Last one: rode way up to Stanley, in back to back years. We rode up & caught a ride back. Here's the route & pic of the 1st around halfway mark. It's June btw; snow, at one of the summits.

 

Dude on the left is Tom. A complete asshole on group rides, including this one. He refuses to 'pull' meaning taking turns at the front to help with wind blocking. I rode with him many times, including the 200-mile annual 'LoToJa' (Logan, ID to Jackson, WY). On that 11-hour ride, 6 of us took turns pulling aaaaalllll day, but not Tom, not once. We were all pissed when he fucking complained when we took shorts breaks for food & leg rest. Loudly berating us for 'falling behind the pace.' Off the bike a pleasant normal person. Other than a ponytail; never a good look. 

Let's focus.

Time to go house shopping. I had been renting in Hyde Park, across the street from popular city park called Camel's back. Directly across street was the playground, where shrieking kids sounding like dolphins in distress rang out daily, year-round. That park is the hub of Boise activity, with a major mtn bike trailhead, tennis courts, yadda. I met a legit influencer named Ethan there, actually when I spotted his van with KETO in big letters on it. Turns out he's a wellness influencer, living the van life, selling keto related powders & supplements. I walked around the park looking for him, finally found him. I was keto at the time, for 2 years by then, ergo we hit it off immediately. Became a customer. Stayed friends for a few years whilst he lived in Boise. I have groovy pic of us meeting, tryna locate. He's still doing his thing, 10 years later, active on FB etc. Incredibly warm friendly guy. 

When I rented that house, the owner was in her 80s, loud & brash & a former state representative I was told by the daughter. I was presented a 10 page lease agreement that was so over the top it was ridiculous, especially as I was a homeowner the prior 20 years. After $1,300/month for a year it was time. This was 2018, the Boise real estate market had been heating for years but this is 2 years before it went full broil, thankfully. I had a real estate agent I had toured homes with there waaaay back in 2006 when I wanted to move there. Even formally listed my Minneapolis home upon returning, got zero offers, alas. How different my life would be had it sold though; I often ponder that.  

So rang up the realtor Jill & told her time to go shopping. Apparently, my lease went month to month after 12. We drove around, can't recall how many we looked at, didn't find anything I dug. I dug Jill, had dinner at her pace a few times, we were friendly, all the time. 

Except for one incident I shall share now for the 1st time. We're driving around Boise house hunting. I'm driving actually. There's a red light in the left hand turn lane. I'm the 3rd car. Green arrow. 1st car goes, 2nd car in front of me does not move. I wait a few seconds and honk the horn. 

Jill goes full on batshit. Happened in 2018 and I can still quote it verbatim, she screams this in my ear:

 IT'S ASSHOLES LIKE YOU MOVING TO BOISE HONKING YOUR HORNS RUINING THIS CITY!!

As a reminder: she's my real estate agent. People moving to Boise, needing houses, like me, are literally her customers. I don't react, just keep driving. She never brought it up, never apologized. I spent days debating firing her. Ultimately decided against it, didn't need the hassle. Chalked it up to what? Temporary insanity? A window into her true feelings? Skipped her meds that day? Who knows. 

When out of the blue, another realtor, Jennifer, a knee buckling leggy blond emails me out of the blue. Met her at a java joint in Hyde Park a full year earlier, we chatted. Knew one day I would be a buyer. Tucked that away. Anyhoots she wrote me that her client was selling, a single story, a few miles down State St from downtown. There was an open house that weekend, both days, and they were accepting offers Sunday evening. That's it. 2 days. Listed for $250k. That's how Boise real estate was even back then. Pure sellers' market. Buyers had zero leverage. Ya got 2 days to check it out & make your offer. Oh and, this: on Sunday afternoon Jill demanded I write the seller a personal letter stating why I like this house so much and why I would be a good owner. I thought she was joking. She was not. She said to compete with all the other offers buyers were submitting personal love letters along with the financial offer. So I dashed off a page of fake bullshit. Ridiculous. 

Sunday evening: there were 4 offers. I was a cash buyer since I was coming from a rental & had inherited enough earlier that year to write a check that size. Jill is sms me every few minutes, can I go higher, a bit higher a bit higher (that's what she said). I scored it for $265k cash. Which now is laughable. A decent house in Boise in good location for 265k? I sold it exactly 3 years later for $465k (oddly from a buyer coming from NC, same as me, suspicious, non?).

Meanwhile, I discovered via online forum the Boise Audio Club, an informal group of fellow stereo gear fanatics. I initially met a PhD EE from Romania, who works at Micron in a high powered sciency gig. He & I became chums, visiting each other a couple times. We contacted the club president, who required in person vetting to ensure we're legit. Turns out, a year earlier, the group was a public Facebook group. A couple strangers joined a monthly meeting. Then they were robbed. Ergo the group now kept a low profile. Expensive gear. The fact they were advertising the monthly meetings on a public Facebook page is utterly stupid, but nearly all were illiterate regarding the socials. 

At the top of this page was a pic I took during a monthly rotating show & tell. That guy is a surgeon who built a gigantic custom house in the foothills. His turntable platter was made of granite & held aloft by an air compressor behind the wall. I'm not making this up. Speakers are Rockport btw if curious. 

Here's what my living room looked like for a year or so. 2 separate sets of speakers. Alternated daily. Speakers are Tannoy Cheviot & Zu Omen Def. Stop me when this gets too exciting. 

However my all-time fave stereo pic is this, a couple days after I moved in. This is literally what I unpacked initially. That way, you see, I had an unpacking soundtrack. These speakers are Sonist Concerto, made by a bloke in N. ID I'll circle back on. 

Roundabout the time I was house shopping, I joined a ride with LAC, it had a slow & a slower ride option. Before the ride I noticed a skirt never seen before, nearby, chatting. Overheard her say she's in Boise temporarily on a rotation. 

She was def babe with radiant smile. And a cyclist. Made mental note to chat her up. However she joined the slower ride, not mine. So sad. However! When ride returned there she was. She took off down the greenbelt trail, an excellent long trail many miles long goes through Boise. Anyhoots caught up to her, said hiya, mentioned up ahead is the Idaho Anne Frank Human Rights Memorial right on the trail. She'd not been, I said let's check it out, which we did. It's an amazing installation actually, when it's not being vandalized by the local redneck fucktards. 

That's her in the center. You'd hit that also:

So we're wandering around it being dazzled as usual. If you find yourself in Boise it's mandatory visit. So anyhoots I finally ask for her digits, which she shares. And it's a 612 number. Minneapolis! I say Minneapolis? What in the Sam Hill? So, she's from there, same as me. Took that as a sign. Of something promising. I said I'd give her a ring a ding ding (I didn't say that); we rode out of there. I rang her up a few hours later which surprised her, and we met in Hyde Park outdoor patio where she knocked back at least 2 pints, maybe 3 (she's small & skinny). But hey: midwestern skirt. That's what we do there, plow the froth off a couple three. Went back to my place a few blocks away, teed up the stereo, listened to music, started necking, which she halted after getting jazzed up & said mebbe next time or something. And split.  

We met again, off & on for the next 8 or so months. I def fell for her, based on her good points, which were quite good indeed oh my laws. As an example, I had just closed on the new house, near Glenwood & State St if you're curious, but hadn't moved in yet. Invited her to come take a look see which she did. House is completely empty, nothing in it at all. And lo, we, ah, christened the joint in the empty master bedroom. Good to purge the old spirits. But she was fun like that. And sexy af. 

Except. 

Except when she wasn't. She had 2 demons mostly hidden. 3 if you count the alcohol abuse. 

Demon 1. She had spent a couple years in, naturally, NC, getting a degree in occupational therapy. She had a boyfriend there who died after being hit by a car on his bicycle, not wearing his helmet. Just prior to that they had some argument about her never to use Grandma's special china plates in his house. So she ignored that, used a plate then broke it washing it in the sink. He was furious. Then he died. Ergo, unresolved guilt over that. As in, one of their last memories is him yelling at her (and her knowing she deserved the tongue lashing).

Demon 2 was what she informed me after a couple weeks of shagging: 

EB: I have an anxiety disorder.

Me: Ok babe.

EB: That's not information. That's a warning.

I really should have paid more attention to that one. For in the months to come, I had a front row seat to her weekly outburst freakouts, worsened by her frequent drinking. I'm talking shouting, crying, gaslighting...blaming her 'abandonment issues' or that she broke the plate in the sink or that somehow, I'm not helping her enough with her disorder or that she wasn't supposed to have another boyfriend and then I came along...always something. And somehow usually my fault. 

I have written about one particularly gruesome drunken episode when her NC friends visited (see #2). They run tours up Mt. Kilimanjaro in Africa. She had agreed to do that before we met. Ergo on the eve of my own trip to Alaska that blowout occurred. We met day after and she had mellowed & short term patched it up. Had I not dug her so much I would have walked away on the drinking alone, my mistake. She did the Africa trip, was gone weeks, we were often apart travelling. But the real final straw & last time I saw her was typically gawdawful at the end. We did a weekend way up in Northern Idaho, brought our bikes to bike this gravel road along the Salmon River. I had an audio club buddy who lived up there & told me about it. So we packed up our bikes & off we went. Here's a pic I took of the river road. Spectacular, no? 

So the trip was pretty good. 3 hour drive each way. Visited my buddy and enjoyed his fantastic stereo: De Havilland monoblocks & Sonist speakers. He told us when we go home to 1st drive up the nearby mountain for a scenic view. So after driving up this badly rutted dirt road for a mile, bikes strapped to the rack in back trying to fling themselves into the valley I said 'fuck this' and turned around and headed home. So she had been weird all trip. She had made frequent random argumentative comments leading me to believe she had another suitor, in hindsight a female actually, but I ignored it. 

Years before I even met her, I was visiting, went to big dinner party, met another cyclist, a skirt. And wait for it, an occupational therapist. Sound familiar? She & I agreed to ride up to Idaho City & back, a common gnarly training ride. Something like 25 miles north & a slight incline the entire time, with a big 4 mile climb to get out Boise. Make it there, grab a bite, head back. So that's what we do. I only met her this one day, never saw her again btw. But here's what happened. On the way back, approaching Boise, she fades up the big climb back. I keep going. Tough shit. She lives there, I'm from out of state, she can find her way home. And that was that. Totally forgot about it. 

Until 10 years later this story is resurrected from the dead! Lucky me. Turns out, they now work together! EB & this cyclist! Yes in a city of 800,00 these two not only have the exact same occupation but also work in the same hospital! Yay! And they get to yakking, EB mentions me, specifically my name, the cyclist rips into me:

'That asshole! Fuck him! He abandoned me on a ride 10 years ago!' 

As if I left her to die in the desert. We're 8 miles from town. A town she lives in. How does she even remember my name? We barely knew each other. So EB is all concerned about this, like deeply concerned about an event it takes me days to even remember (I do around 100 rides every year). But now, this rando cyclist knows me, knows my name, from a single ride 10 years earlier. Fuck her. Ride faster & keep up or get dropped. 

PS for you non cyclists: getting 'dropped' is a fact of life in this sport. It happens to me nearly every group ride. Hundreds of times. That's the sport. The last thing I'll do is turn into a whiny bitch and find someone to blame. People who think otherwise as if it's bad manners simply aren't cyclists. Or they're homos. 

Anyhoots, back to our final day together. As we were driving back down this rutted road, out of the blue she said, and I quote verbatim:

Why can't you be normal?

My instant reaction to myself was: we're starting a 3-hour road trip. She wants to pick a fight, yet again. Don't fall for it. 

So I kept my cool and laughed it off. Quiet ride back, mostly silent. I was keen to avoid a shitshow on a 3-hour drive, knowing her random explosions. So, here's what happened. The first time I visited her place, a room she was renting in someone's house, near a main road, she drives a half mile circle so she can park in front of the house. Instead of turning off the main road, going 5 houses to hers & parking on the other side of the street. Why she couldn't make a simple U turn on an empty residential street in front of her house after driving solo from North Carolina to Idaho baffles me to this day 10 years later. 

So we're driving down the main street, 99.9% of the drive finished, & pass her street. I say 'you just missed the turn' as we come to a stop next to the petrol station on the corner. We're stopped next to the petrol station entrance. She doesn't pull in drive through it & out to the right to keep going. Instead we're stopped at the LONGEST RED LIGHT IN FUCKING HISTORY. I wouldn't care so much but on my passenger side (she's driving my car) the summer sun is broiling upon me. Had to have been a legit 3 full minutes of not moving, me broiling in the sun. Finally my turn to snap 'I'm broiling here just pull into the petrol station and out the other side!' but she won't. Just sits there staring straight ahead. So she can eventually turn right, go a quarter mile, turn right again, go another quarter mile, turn right again, and park on the same side of the street as her house. Which is about 100 feet away all this time. 

I was so pissed. Probably said or shouted 'what the fuck is the deal with going all this extra way!! Just turn onto your street and park!!' 

Don't recall exactly. She parks, just walks into the house. Oh, ah, bye I guess. I lug her heavy giant duffle bag to the door. She walks out. I said 'bye' and that's the last time I ever saw her. 

Except. The annual Banff Bicycle Film plays Boise each year at the Egyptian Theatre. A few months after that episode I went with a few friends. Walked up to the mezzanine level up the stairs and there in the front row there she is. Suddenly we're face to face. I said you're still here (she had told me her assignment was ending) she said yep I said good to see ya she said you too and then my friend group moved on & sat a couple rows back. I could see her, she was with another skirt. She got pint beer refills a few times during the 90-minute flick. And that truly was the last I ever saw or heard from her. She had once told me her friend had told her to get her shit together on LinkedIn but she wouldn't. Just checked her profile just now, it's literally just her name & a job from 20 years ago, that's it. She hadn't updated her FB in years. That was like her. Smart in some ways, flaky in most others, triggered by life stuff. 

The last time I ever heard from her was a few weeks after that final trip. She wrote me a 1-page email, which I wish I would have saved as I would have pasted it here. Most of it was an apology & decision that she decided to reenter therapy before she starts another relationship. So at least she acknowledged she was a fucking nutter with me. The kicker though, was the last paragraph where she noted my 'verbal aggression.' I'll never forget that. I was on the receiving end of her outbursts for months, never once escalating, never fighting, just patiently waiting it out. The only time I ever snapped at her that entire relationship was in the car baking in the sun for several minutes because she refused to turn onto the street she lived on. 

The shit I'll put up with for a tight bod & hall of fame milkers. 

Anyhoots, onwards.

Part 4 coming soon