Last week I posted a wee update that hinted at a top-secret, magazine-sponsored mission that had me in the deep, dark and beautiful Oregon woods dodging poison oak. It was an attempt to cram a little more fitness into my body so that I could successfully pilot the Sh*t Bike to the finish line of the All-Mountain World Championships in Downieville, CA.

For those unfamiliar with the Sh*t Bike, I suggest taking a look at the back pages of Bike Magazine. The bike itself is a circa 1997 Softride beam bike, with a completely blown out first generation Rock Shox Sid fork and a compilation of other components. In fact, the only nice parts on the thing were the Hive crankset, the WTB tires and saddle and my custom, Joe Parkin engraved headset cap. Riding this thing on the Downieville course is a little bit like bringing a butter knife to a machine gun fight, but I promised the guys at the magazine that I would not flake out on my promise, and proceeded to try and dial in my position on the thing.

For those unfamiliar with the Downieville race itself, I will tell you that it is a two-day mountain bike race in some of the most beautiful country this land has to offer. Day one starts with a 28-mile cross-country race. By cross-country, I mean a 12 mile, fire road climb that starts at roughly 4000 ft and tops out somewhere at 8000 ft. For a guy like me, with only 4 red blood cells, it is all high altitude and is more than a little punishing. When you finally get to the top, what you perceive to be a nice, 16-mile downhill coast is really more of a rocky, rooty, drop-off intensive suffer-fest into downtown Downieville. The downhill portion of the course is one thing on a 5-inch travel trail bike and quite another on a clapped out hard tail boasting an antique suspension fork that is broken.

If the cross-country portion of the race doesn’t do you in, the second day’s downhill race is there to try and hurt you physically and spiritually. The downhill is essentially the same downhill course as the one you ride in the cross-country, but with a few more hiccups thrown in to keep you on your toes.

But none of that is the problem.

The problem is that Downieville is an old, sleepy town, without very much to offer in terms of communication with the outside world. In other words, my cell phone gets no signal and my neat little mobile wireless card thing doesn’t work either. No phone, no internet … seriously. I called the promoters, Greg and Wayno and asked them how I was supposed to race a World Championship event without any sort of radio, phone or internet communication. I asked them to think about moving the race. They informed me in no uncertain terms that they were the promoters and they would not be moving the race.

I called the UCI and asked them to intervene. I suggested a better venue, like Golden Gate Park or something – a place where a guy can get a cell phone signal and some sushi. Besides, that Downieville course is rough, man … can’t we make it a bit more like a world cup cross-country race … you know, a bit like a bike path? But the UCI reminded me that the All-Mountain Worlds in Downieville is not under their sanction, so they had no say in the matter.

There was nothing to do but protest. I decided right then and there that I would not only NOT warm up, but that I would also ride slowly in order to deny any spectators from seeing me getting totally rad on the Sh*t Bike. That would teach these guys. I mean really – how do they expect me to race a mountain bike in the mountains when there isn’t any sort of mobile communication, sushi or place for me to get a good strawberry cosmo?

Yeah, the above story is fictional, except for the bit about me doing the race and, umm, kind of going slowly. I assure you though, that the slow part was not on purpose. I went, I raced, and I made it home again without even having to find a sat-phone to call my mom. The guys were able to accomplish the same thing in the Tour de France the other day too – without even having radio communication straight into their ears.

I think they should get rid of the stupid radios. I mean really, can you imagine having your boss in your ear all day long? But the riders and the teams want the things back, so I say give them their radios and let’s get on with it. They are some of the world’s most amazing athletes, competing in the world’s most grueling and prestigious bike race – and that should stand for something.

I am drawing the line at letting them have sushi though.

Oh, and as it turns out, there's wifi in Downieville - I just never read the memo.