I'm standing in the Pittsburgh Airport. A large man strides toward us, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dirty jacket, his face framed by a scraggly, orange afro. It is Dirt Rag Magazine's Maurice Tierney. He's here to whisk us away to the top-secret Dirt Rag Headquarters for a weekend of Anarchy.

Dirt Rag turned 10 this year, and so did the infamous Punk Bike Enduro, an annual off-road stage race organized by the Dirt Rag Crue. After being encouraged to attend for several years, along with Gene O, I've finally managed to make the trip happen.

Bikes retrieved from the baggage claim, we Roar out of the terminal in the Dirt Rag van into the Pittsburgh night. Gene O's riding shotgun. I'm sitting in a lawnchair in the back, arms outstretched, braced against the sides of the van, enjoying the ride. Maurice reaches under his seat, pulls out a bottle of Cuervo. Welcome to the Iron City!

There's a small gathering of friends at the Tierney's hilltop hideaway. Soon, we retreat to the garage, where a keg of Penn Oktoberfest awaits. Gene and I hop into Maurice's mint 58' Cadillac Sedan De Ville, which is parked in the garage. The interior of this car is as large as most people's living rooms. We've got front row seats for the keg.

In the morning, Elaine makes us some killer pancakes. We head outside to the backyard, where Maurice and Elaine's 9-year old son, Rice, lords over what has to be the coolest backyard any 9-year old could hope for. On a large cement slab sits a recently erected mini half-pipe, rescued from a local neighbor who simply wanted to get rid of the structure. The pipe is surrounded by a couple of launch ramps; it is an x-games training ground. Rice straps on his skates and takes to the ramp, commanding Maurice to squeegee the few areas of standing water from the recent rain. Gene O, looking very 80's punk, wearing his leather motorcycle jacket, drops in, running up the opposite transition and back down to the other side, repeatedly.

After the morning session, Maurice, Gene O, and I get in the van and head over to Dirt Rag. This is the moment I've been waiting for, to see the inner workings of DIRT RAG MEGA-ZINE. The Dirt Rag office currently operates out of a fairly large, two-story house, what was once the Tierney's home. It's amazing to think that they used to live here, and put out the magazine, all under one roof. In the beginning, everything was done in the basement. These days, the kitchen doubles as the conference room, the bedrooms are now offices. The garage at the end of the descending gravel driveway, opens into the basement which now serves as the shop and bike storage. It is inspiring to say the least. As Elaine says, "It only takes 10 years..."

It's time to get our bikes ready for tomorrow's Punk Bike Enduro. In selecting which bikes to bring to this prestigious event, we've taken no chances: Gene is on The Communist Plot-an old, woman's coaster-brake cruiser, which many years ago, he and a friend converted to a men's frame by welding in a toptube. Painted a non-descript Russian Tank Gray, replete with a red star on the headtube, it truly does look like a bicycle one might have seen cruising past the Kremlin. Gene spends most of the early afternoon overhauling the coaster hub, repeatedly asking me to help him align the wheel in the frame. Meanwhile, I'm busy getting my own chariot together: A ladies RollFast coaster brake cruiser, sporting the original gas tank/headlight combo, and chrome rear fender. This is the same RollFast I purchased from a thrift store for $1.07 (w/tax!) before last years' Fat Tire Tour of Minneapolis; Just air up the tires and go. Oh yeah, the tires. Me? I'm running slicks, with the rear tire featuring a thin reflective strip on the sidewall, for safety. These tires would prove a disadvantage, in the mud, especially compared to Gene O's Michelin knobbies, but hey, run what you brung, right?

Initially, I thought the 'Punk' in "Punk Bike Enduro" referred to the bike you rode. In many ways it does, but it is also an opportunity to dress in your favorite punk attire, an admittedly broad category. And no less important than the clothes, is the hair. In retrospect, this was evident by Maurice's orange afro, a dye-job gone awry. So in true punk form, Maurice busts out the clippers. I opt for a pretty standard *" buzz cut, while Gene O goes for the new wave/mod Flock Of Seagulls/Romantics look. Finally, with bikes, and hair properly tuned, Gene O, Chris Cosby from D.Rag, and myself engage in a little mano-a-mano skid competition, ripping down the gravel driveway. Maurice stands at the ready with his digital camera.

Saturday night, we head into downtown Pittsburgh, looking for some action. The Gandy Dancer is located in the old Pittsburgh Rail Depot, and it's a nice enough bar/restaurant, seemingly populated by the young, upwardly-mobiles. Maurice suggests we take a 31-block walk to the 31st street Tavern. I'm all for it. Instead, we corral Big Ed to drive us, first stopping off at the Voodoo Lounge, one of those pre-fab Harley bars, with the prerequisite black and white photos of Steve McQueen, Marlon Brando, et al, on the walls. Most bizarre is that the owners of the bar apparently trust no one, not even staff, to handle money. The bartenders must bring the money to the end of the bar where one of the owners runs the cash register, and makes change. After one drink, we split, arriving at the 31st Street Tavern. This is a punk bar, stickers and show flyers cover every square inch. We're just in time to see local punk rockers, The Enemies of Yinz. What the hell is a 'Yinz?' Maurice explains: "you know; 'Yinz.' As in "Yinz comin' by for dinner later?" Uh, OK.

Sunday morning. Up early. Help Maurice Load the remainder of Friday night's keg into the back of the van, as well as assorted bikes, bags, shovels, and other supplies. Head to the Dorseyville Fire Hall, start and finish for the Punk Bike Enduro. The parking lot is filling up fast. There's all types of crazy bikers here. Green mohawks mix with afros. Pegged pants, and chains. There's lycra-clad punks, too. Even some flannel, Full-suspension riders, single-speeds, hard-tails, tandems, it's all here. This is going to be a good day is all I can think, while munching on a thick, multi-grain pancake.

Stage one. Maurice leads the roll out in his van. He'll be hauling the keg to each checkpoint, which, obviously, makes him a very important man. We climb a pavement section to the singletrack start, but those at the front take off without waiting for the official start, and stage one is a bust. A meandering singletrack heads off into the woods, and suddenly plunges down a steep, greasy pitch. I'm confident in my abilities, and yet my coaster-brake inspired, slick-tire ballet almost impales one rider, and I narrowly avoid getting intimate with tree. At the bottom, everyone hoots and hollers. I am not in the top 5. Stage two begins with a flat, singletrack section, and miraculously, I find myself at the front for the majority of the stage. The trail is very greasy mud, with numerous stream crossings. We reach the first of two tunnels, where Gene O and local Lee Klevens catch and pass me. Kapow! I am spent. Several others pass me, too. Reaching the finish, I am stoked at the prospect of 10 more stages on the RollFast. We head to the start of stage three, a parking lot up the hill. Before the start, Maurice decides we need to have a Derby. Most of the riders have no idea what a derby is, so Gene and I have the honor of demonstrating. Soon, everyone joins in the fun. I am unceremoniously eliminated, a victim of my coaster-brake. It comes down to two riders, 13 year old Danny Wilson, and pro cross-country rider, Sue Heywood. Sue is victorious. An entire region is turned on to the Derby lifestyle.

It is warm for early December. The keg in the back of the Dirt Rag van proves exceedingly popular. We slog through the remaining stages, and at one point I'm forced to stop and remove my rear fender. The wheel will not turn as it is too clogged with leaves and mud. Gene O aces the field in the downhill stage. He's a spectacular site, in the safety-orange Cal-Trans jumpsuit, vice-grips in his rear pocket. Everyone is amazed.

Throughout the race, there has been a series of "punks"-laminated, bright green, cardboard cut-outs of a guy on a bike, which, if captured, count as ten bonus points. Gene O is in the top 2-3 for the entire event. The final stage is a reverse of stage two, taking us back under the two tunnels, and up the greasy singletrack valley. At the finish, Lee Klevens mysteriously produces a punk, and vaults to the front of the heap, taking the victory at the 10th Annual Punk Bike Enduro, riding a surly 1x1. Gene O finishes third overall. The locals are so impressed with The Communist Plot and the RollFast, that we decide to leave them behind, where they are on display at Dirty Harry's Bike Shop in Verona, PA. I'd like to say thank you to Maurice and Elaine Tierney, the entire Dirt Rag Staff, and all the cool people we met at The 10th Annual Punk Bike Enduro!