Join us each week as we discuss gravel bikes, adventure biking, bikepacking, bike camping, or just playing bikes.
Something a little different - Enjoy!
Lyrics....
Yeah.
From the Mason-Dixon down to the Shenandoah.
Red clay. Limestone.
Fog on the rolling hills.
We out here grinding.
And yo... where’s Joey?
There he is.
Yo, welcome to the Mid-Atlantic, humidity thick
Where the gravel climbs up and it makes you feel sick
We got potholes in PA deep enough to hide a body
Riding B-roads in Virginia, feeling loose, feeling rowdy.
It’s that chunky limestone, cutting sidewalls on the daily
Descend at forty-five, praying that the brakes don’t fail me.
Through the Amish country, dodging buggies and the horse apples
Sunday morning worship, this dirt road is my chapel.
Got dust in my teeth, got mud on the shins
Elevation gain spiking where the mountain begins.
But look to the left, emerging from the tree line
It’s a silhouette, a shadow, riding straight through the slime.
It’s the gravel grind, yeah we leave it all behind
Chasing endless yellow lines through the state of mind.
Pedal stroke heavy, heart beating like a spike
And here comes Joey, on a different damn bike.
Yeah, here comes Joey, eating trash on the hike.
Let me tell you ‘bout Joey, the man is a glitch
He’s got "New Bike Syndrome," yeah, a frantic itch.
Last Tuesday on the group ride? He was riding a Trek
Carbon fiber, aero bars, stiffness up to the neck.
Wednesday? He showed up on a vintage steel frame
Down tube shifters, eighty-five was the game.
Today? I swear to god, he’s on a titanium rig
With monster cross tires looking heavy and big.
Next week it’s a single-speed, gearing ratio mash
Then a recumbent? Nah, he wouldn’t be that brash.
N+1 is the formula, his garage is a maze
He swaps frames like a playlist, just a blur and a daze.
"Yo Joey, is that 650b?"
He just nods and shifts gears, flying past the debris.
We hit the aid station, or the local Wawa stop
I’m grabbing energy bars, electrolytes, and pop.
But Joey’s round the back, by the dumpster diving deep
Searching for the calories that other people sleep.
He pulls out a half-eaten burger from the bin
Wipes off a little coffee grounds, and gives me a grin.
"It’s just carbs, bro," he says, taking a massive bite
Washing it down with a soda that’s been sitting all night.
He’s a raccoon in Lycra, a possum on wheels
Fueling PRs on banana peels and Happy Meals.
I saw him eat a gummy bear found on the road
Then drop five hundred watts and explode up the node.
Iron stomach, iron legs, alloy rims
Eating garbage like a king while the daylight dims.
It’s the gravel grind, yeah we leave it all behind
Chasing endless yellow lines through the state of mind.
Pedal stroke heavy, heart beating like a spike
And here comes Joey, on a different damn bike.
Yeah, here comes Joey, eating trash on the hike.
Maryland clay sticking to the downtube
Joey’s chain screaming out for a little bit of lube.
He’s riding a unicycle now? No, wait, just a trick of the light
He’s back on a fat bike, pushing through the night.
Whatever he rides, and whatever he eats
The man is a legend on these gravel streets.
Yeah.
Pass the hot dog wrapper.
Keep spinning.
See you at the next junction, Joey.
Assuming you didn't buy a new bike mid-ride.
Mid-Atlantic Stand Up.
Peace.
AI by Suno
Dec 18 20251 h y 3 m
Dec 11 20254 m
Dec 2 20251 h y 3 m
Nov 25 202558 m
Nov 17 20251 h y 6 m
1 h y 8 m
43 m
1 h y 2 m