ROAD Magazine as been to its share of after-parties. Usually, they are a rather dry affair with riders checking their watches and thinking about returning to their hotel rooms. Not the case at the Hincapie party, were several hundred people were in attendance. With the smell of Asian food wafting throughout the Hincapie building, it was a whose-who of American cycling. Outside, Levi Leipheimer was relaxing with a well deserved beverage and looking forward to the off-season, as both Hincapie and himself declined their automatic selection to the upcoming world championships. As I’m standing, nursing my drink, David Zabriskie pulls a karate kick on me. Because I skilled in the bo-staff, I was easily able to block his kick. From there on it was a series of what I have now called, “Zabriskisms.” He starts off by slapping his out-stretched hand with his knee. We give him a “what the hell are you doing look” and he tells us that this was from Twin Peaks and proceeds to rattle off lines from the television show. Once again, classic Dave. I will be so pissed if the CSC public relations people get a hold of Dave and try to make him more “media friendly.”
The man of the hour was, of course, George Hincapie. Working the crowd and shaking hands like a politician going for re-election, George’s hands must have been blistered by the end of the evening. Hincapie’s win was important for the town and got the residents excited about the race for upcoming years to come. The TIAA-CREF boyz were in attendance and, as usual, Lucas Euser was rocking the faux-mohawk and busting out his dance moves. Ladies, you’ve been warned, he is a dancing machine! The crowning moment of the party was when a huge poster was rolled down the side of the Hinicape building. Taken by their in-house photographer just moments after receiving the Stars and Stripes Jersey and then rushed to the office, it was a photo of George kissing his wife Melanie. A special moment that I’m sure will stay with George forever.
Out behind the Hincapie Sportsware building a tent was erected were you could get your dance on and enjoy a drink. Other than Euser, I did not notice many cyclists on the dance floor. Perhaps it was the strain of the day still in their legs that prevented them from shaking their money-makers. Or maybe it’s the old adage that cyclists really can’t dance.
I’m still down South, but when I return home I do have some random party photos that I’ll post.