Pull up your pants, pick up that phone and yell "Crow ME!"

Pull up your pants, pick up that phone and yell "Crow ME!"

Have you ever seen those videos of the lovely ladies with novelty size boobs shaking violently while jumping on a trampoline?

You know… The ones where the tiny T-shirt is stretched and pulled to the limit as the wind of freedom blew through Old Glory in 1776?

Now close your eyes tight and imagine one of these marvelously generous gals piloting a mint CR500 across the top of San Felipe's death whoops at 100mph… The heavenly sound of the ring a ding pops through your ear canals and crashes into your dopamine drip. The beautiful sight of burnt premix and sand-thrown chaos enamors your attention.

Your eyes scour the CR500 cone pipe, and drool begins to drop from your lower lip like the black spooge out the tail of a two-stroke exhaust. Your hands begin to sweat and tingle as you imagine the sweet vibration of that fire-breathing monster pounding through the soles of her cowboy boots.

But suddenly, you snap out of the hypnosis.

Much to your astonishment, those wicked ass boobies are steady as the rock footing of the statue of liberty. That's right… Barely a jiggle.

How can it be??

How can such a violent shake be tamed such that you couldn't gander past the carbon shorty pipe to realize them big ass buoys weren't moving around like a mosh pit at a Slayer concert? How can it be that anything other than the sound of Black Sabbath played over the loudspeaker during a church service could bring such stillness and amazement?

Well, friends, you were too busy dreaming about tingling chatter of her clutch lever shaking in its perch to realize that her fork tubes proudly displayed godamn Crow Performance LOGOS!!!

"Lord have mercy, this wet dream does not end," you proclaim loudly with a gasp of relief.

It all makes sense now. The only thing that can calm giant whoops, tame rocks, and do so looking that good is a valve job by none other than Mike Crow.

What are you waiting for? Pull up your pants, pick up that phone and yell "Crow ME!" when the handsome bastard answers the phone. Talk to him the right way, and he may even rub one of the stickers on your tubes.


-EL Calambre

Chronicles of Dirt