Center for Subversive Cycling

2010-12-06T22:29:00.002-07:00

You should really go here and do this:

Random Update

2010-06-26T09:14:00.004-06:00

I thought I should at least say hello and waste a few minutes of both our time...

And yes, I have been riding. Mountain bike rides mostly, with a concentration on the Dale Ball Trails. You have to love a 30-mile trail network that is (mostly) within the city limits. And now that we have had some rain, they might not be so dry.

Mellow Velo continues to grow and improve, but our slacker webmaster is more interested in the height of his handlebars than finishing the new website, so you will just have to believe me.

In other news, I cut off all of my hair, and haven't had a cigarette in 30 months (today)!

Education

2010-02-20T19:14:00.004-07:00

Today there was a Bicycle Summit in Santa Fe, with representatives from three independent shops, a distributor, and several local clubs in attendance. The purpose was to round-table some ideas for our local reps to take to the National Summit in DC.
The primary concern of the 25 - 30 people there was, naturally, the streets of our fair city, and the conditions under which we cycle. While it was agreed that compared to 15 - 20 years ago things are immensely better, it was obvious that there is a long way to go. There are still certain arteries that a cyclist takes a higher risk using, but are really the only option.
The other main concern, and one that can be addressed at a national level is education for both motorists and cyclists. My own example to this was the motorist that thought my left-turn hand signal meant for them to pass me. Yeah... you do the math.

If you are interested in adding a voice, or helping out, there are meetings on the 3rd Wednesday at rob and charlie's, and you can watch the NM Bike Coalition site for info. I think the SOB's update for advocacy too.

Props to Lisa and Nathan from BTI for putting it together.

(and for those still watching; 2 years, 1 month, 25 days)

Cellidh

2009-08-06T11:03:00.007-06:00

I hung up my man-bag the other day... decided that if I was going to carry luggage I might as well do it right. So I got Ceilidh out and wiped her down, aired the tires, mounted my casual panniers with all my accoutrement and hit the road.
Who is Ceilidh? My 30-something Scottish love. Look back in the archives and find the day I inherited the two Wester Ross'; Ceilidh is 035, the black touring rig. Built in the late '70s, silver brazed, lugged, Reynolds 531 tubing, basically all original with Suntour Montech derailleurs, Suntour BarCon shifters, Campagnolo brakes and levers, Campagnolo Record hubs with old Mavic rims, Sugino AT triple crank, Campy headset... don't know the brand of dropouts or fork crown, but I'm looking.
Anyway, she is a joy to ride. The Buick geometry means she's stable as can be, and flows well in traffic. Twitchy is not in her vocabulary.
Now that I'm spending more time with her, the question of aesthetics arises. Her baked enamel finish has a number of chips, and steel does what steel does naturally, so I realize I must either repaint her completely, or do some major sand, polish, and touch-up. Touch up would be less expensive, and I wouldn't be without for any real length of time (not like I don't have something else to ride). But it wouldn't stop all the existing rust, and would continue to look slightly shabby.
If I do get her repainted, what colors? At present she's black, with very pale blue lug edges and cutouts. I was thinking a forest green with gold accents, brown leather and duck on the accessories, and bits of brass as needed (like the Crane bell on there now). The original decal designs are available as a graphics file online, so I could have them printed in a matching gold...
Indigo with silver accents would be another possibility, but the green, gold, brown just feels so bloody posh.
Ponder, ponder.

View From the Streets

2009-07-25T17:39:00.002-06:00

As I rode into the downtown/old town section of Santa Fe, more commonly referred to as the Plaza, I remembered the day; last Saturday of July. An icy shiver ran down back as I found myself being surrounded by the land whales, skateboard cars, and duelly trucks. San Francisco Street was a parking lot, and I used my mobility to reverse course and search for alternate routes. I swung around a back route, turned at the barricades, and went far enough nothing should have been there... wrong. Even Lincoln Avenue was barricaded, three-to-four deep on each side. It looked like Berlin in 1962! The only thing missing were the Soviet weapons; they use Israeli here.
I slid past one stormtrooper by rolling up the sidewalk before the wall, effectively confusing a seventh grade education. Two down...
The gates at the street weren' the problem, it was the sea of humanity flowing in both directions. Bad economy? The thousands upon thousands of souls I saw buying "art for art's sake" didn't seem to think so. Patiently, I awaited a Moses-like moment when all the random streams aligned just right and I could roll across the road. Leaving walls of barriers is quite simple; you roll through. No one even notices you, and if they do, your out before they can say, "Bicycles are not..."
Literally twenty minutes later than expected, I arrived at my destination. Had I been in a car, I would have had to park a mile or so away and walk in.

And in other news... no, I still haven't had a cigarette. One year, seven months tomorrow.

A Poetic Interlude

2009-04-18T07:12:00.003-06:00

In another of my blogs I am attempting to keep up with a poem-a-day as put forth by Poetic Asides. Of course, a couple of the poems ended up being bicycle related, and rather than force you to wade through a half-months verbosity, I thought I'd just drop them here, and give myself an excuse to update.
Now, these poems are based on "prompts;" subject tidbits. This one was a result of the prompt "hobby"...
the view is endless
the air thin
ravens circle doing tricks
as deer watch through
thick rows of trees
tracks cross the trail
several sets
all moving toward
the stream I crossed
sunlight fills me
after dappled canyons
of aspen and pine
and I breathe
deeply of the mountain air
before dropping off the
other side
to dance my bicycle
through the trees

This one was from the prompt "clean"...
tight line, steep approach
loose rock, a root, shift
weight
don't touch the gears
jerk left, slip, recover
mad scramble, more roots
shale drift, not as steep
low branch
switchback
cactus reaches, hungry
pull up
push down
burst through the claws
momentum
before the wall, the lip
pedal, timing, approach
yank, pedal, weight, lunge
crest, hold, grin
cleaned it

So there you have it. Save your flames, I am certainly my own worst critic.

Fixed Gear Corruption

2009-04-02T17:39:00.002-06:00

Yes, it's true, I'm actually posting something. And yes, it's true, fixed gear bicycles have corrupted me.
Ask anyone, I used to be the epitome of bicycle manners. I obeyed the traffic laws better than most drivers. I always waited for lights, kept to my lane, signaled and made legal turns. I didn't mind stopping, putting a foot down, scanning the car next to me for interesting occurrences.
Then one day I'm waiting, realizing my trackstand skills are not up to par, and run the red through an empty intersection. I found myself going the wrong way in traffic, cutting corners and running more lights, riding through pedestrian precincts...
I had basically become the rider I had always shaken my head at, cursed for making it bad for all of us.
And I remembered how much fun it was to take the street for my own purposes. Subversive purposes.

I'm still a generally respectful rider. More often than not I'll follow the spirit, if not the letter, of the law. But sometimes I have to follow the path less traveled. Against the arrows.

and for those still counting... over 15 months.

Or Not

2008-10-15T21:52:00.004-06:00

The level of apathy in this town...

shouldn't be surprising, since I know I've ranted about it before.

There will not be a Segundo, at least not this year. I am as guilty as the others of lack o' enthusiasm. It's hard to create something when no one really cares. It's the true meaning of trickle-down economy.

On a brighter note, my little birthday bash at the shop was, from my perspective, actually sublime. I can never thank David and Lisette enough for all they did. And no, I really can't tell you what it feels like to be fifty. That's right; 50. L.
And the bottle of Caol Ila was over the top. Damn, I'm a sucker for an Islay malt.

Oh, and I just remembered, I've been off cigarettes for 42 weeks. I had to check the calender.

Noché de los Muertos

2008-09-23T18:03:00.003-06:00

Last year I decided that I was going to put on an alleycat race, that it was going to be different than the usual fare, and that it was going to be fun. Noché de los Muertos was born. It was certainly different, a bit of fun, and the impetus for the creation of this very journal.
After the race was over, many of the people present spoke of putting on other, equally interesting events. There was talk of near-monthly possibilities. We all went our ways with the glow of enthusiasm, occupied barstool's as the competitors regaled each other with the blow-by-blow, and I was content to believe I would get to participate in the next fiasco.

It was never to be...

Now I find myself planning the El Segundo Noché, the first race since the last one, with excited people who say they're willing to help. What the heck, says I, it's not as off the cuff as last year. I've already begun to bug sponsors, scout possible checkpoints, and set the media airships into action. I'm also thinking of ways to keep it somewhat different, a bit esoteric, but not quite a far-gone as last year. I can disseminate clues at my leisure, without the fear of my blog address offending anyone's sensibilities.

I have several "theme" possibilities going through my head. Originally i had intended to do shrines... but there's the Victorian thing... or haunted...

haunted victorian shrines...

wanders off mumbling to self

La Gazza Ladra

2008-09-17T18:29:00.005-06:00

So I finally got what I consider to be decent shots of LGL. And she was actually clean (ish).

Here's one of a little number that Mellow Velo just put together... one sexy old Peugot, kids.

duck and cover

2008-09-07T00:56:00.003-06:00

the soldiers of the nationalsocialisthomelandsecurity have discovered the cogs of subversion and the wheels have multiplied exponentially...
resistance is not futile, we will not be assimilated

passsed the 8-month mark

returning to the steam-tunnels...

...

2008-08-30T22:53:00.006-06:00

And I must commend Victoria Pendleton for her success. I can think of no athlete this quad who deserved it more.

Victoria...
the Queen...
small machines wander the halls of my reality...
heroine's on wheels...

the steam is beginning to fill the room...

only the Colonel's Seven-Jewel Rotating Cavalry can save the day...

8 months without a friggin' cigarette!
Hear me, oh doubters; I will not be assimilated!

VP

2008-07-30T20:12:00.003-06:00

So, if you're a bike geek you've probably seen the various glamour shots of Victoria Pendleton. If not, here's a taste...

yeah, so? a little leg?
Actually, a lot of leg; she's a multiple World Champion in track cycling, and the reigning Women's Sprint Goddess (yeah, that's an official title). She has one chance for a gold in Beijing this year, and though it may seem a bit unpatriotic of me, I hope she gets it.

Le Fini (almost)

2008-07-26T08:35:00.003-06:00

For the first time in years, I find myself glued to the tube, watching (or at the moment, listening) to the final time-trial of Le Tour. Seconds count, and I honestly believe that tomorrow's ride into Paris will be a race. The time difference is small, the key players all worthy. When was the last time they actually raced to the Arc?
The doper's have been caught, and if the Cobra ever joins the peloton again, he will probably be nudged over a guard rail. How many people did he put out of work?
I digress... cycling is exciting, and the nay-sayers can ride without a saddle for all I care. I'm glad I watched Le Tour this year.

Oh yes... 7 months without a cigarette today!

That race...

2008-07-13T20:42:00.002-06:00

Yes, like many of us, I'm lost in it. How can I not be? It's the epic battle, the ultimate in physical output, and it's exciting again. Who are these men winning stages? They're young, different, and their attitudes are fresh, angry, resolute.
Watching Ricardo Ricco climb today was as exciting as any stage I've seen in years. The amount of time he devoured was amazing.

I've also been spending a lot of time on roller skates, but that's another story...

D-lusion

2008-06-21T20:27:00.002-06:00

Increased speed, stronger muscles, better control.
These are all subjective neurons in a grander, more realistic scheme. What feels amazing to the person experiencing it may not reflect, in any way, shape, or form, the comparison to a baseline of other humans. You can feel like you're smoking the streets with your flash, your turns so low the pedals are saying the word "strike," but when another rider cruises past you like he isn't worried if the last Times has sold or not, your reference is shattered, as is your stride, and your fantasy.
It's good that we can be superheroes in our heads, just as it is good that mothers have perfect love of their children. It keeps more of us alive.

While I'm here; go check out Swrve clothing. I met the powers that be, and got to fondle the samples. It's nice stuff, made in the States, with a good bit o' style, and a lot of "made to ride in." I know I'm wanting some.

drumroll please... Thursday will be 6 months to the day, while Wednesday is 26 weeks. Six of one, half dozen of the other? No Cigs!

5 does not equal 168

2008-06-10T21:06:00.002-06:00

I've done some rides since I quit smoking, but I've done them solo, with no one to pace, to judge, to "set an example." Tonight I realized how painful keeping up can be. Everyone said, "no problem, there's a slow guy with us. We'll be rolling mellow."
Yeah, right, bite me. Mellow is a shop, not a style of riding. At least not where my lungs are concerned.
So I was off the back, pushing climbs that made me feel like I was sucking a cigarette as I went. But I kept going. It wasn't a long ride, it certainly wasn't anything major for the boys. Hell, it was the second ride of the day for some. But they reeled me in, waited at the junctions, and gave me the option of the return. I took the "one more climb because it's more fun going down" route, and enjoyed it to no end. Pain can be fun when it's shared. Even when it's shared with others who aren't feeling, but know, your pain
No, five months of non-smoking doesn't equal fourteen years of chemical addiction, but it helps. It's a start. And if I go out and try to follow my friends again, it will be another pedal-stroke in the right direction. And another layer of crap shredded from the inside of my lungs.

Wednesday

2008-06-04T17:28:00.002-06:00

A typical afternoon at Mellow Velo; drinking IPA, visits from dirt-jumping fools and a former World Champion, broken bikes to be fixed, fixed bikes to be broken, an '80s Univega in mint condition to be assembled...
Yeah, I'm occasionally jonesing for the full-time gig. But not that much.
For the Wester Ross fans, I'll be riding 035 in on Saturday to get it pimped for commuting. Chatter around the shop says a number of old-schooler's are going to stop in to see it. It's not every day a 30-year old British touring bike roll in to the shop. Hopefully the boys will have a camera going.
Now if Pi would surface and let me know what country she's in...

And no, I still haven't had a cigarette.

Lash

2008-06-01T22:27:00.004-06:00

Part of me wants to flay the skin off the "cyclists" that only acknowledge their own, moreso the ones in cars, driving to their trail, or starting point.
Today, I rolled down the hill, in search of music, and malted adult beverages. The Cowgirl was celebrating 15 years with a dozen local bands, and I had a ticket to Cowboy Junkies at the Lensic. Memories of the Really Posh Guys almost crushed me, but that's another story.
As I rolled down said hill, a car with a couple bikes came up. I waved. I was ignored.
Perhaps because they were transporting mountain bikes, and I was riding La Gazza Ladra, perhaps they didn't notice me in the hundred yard visibility. Perhaps they were self-absorbed pricks who felt adding $3,000 of wind resistance to their car was cool.
It really doesn't matter after all... whatever rant I built on the way to town was washed away by the days events.
And perhaps that is the lesson. To me, to the pricks, to the people who make music for us.

And I signed a marriage certificate Saturday. No, it wasn't mine.
And I can't remember how many days it's been since I had a cigarette. More than five months...

Memorable Day

2008-05-26T08:20:00.015-06:00

The joy of three-day national holidaze; I can have a great weekend and still have a day to write about it and have more fun.
Yesterday I rolled off my porch (literally) and headed into downtown. First thing was a quick visit to an outdoor shop, and a new reservoir for my pack. From there I rolled down to the Santa Fe River (which was churning along nicely for a change)and what I lovingly refer to as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. This is a cut in the vegetation on the flood-plain of the river, mostly used by old, homeless vets (hence the name). It parallels one of the more expensive shopping streets and is basically in the heart of downtown, making it doubly fun.
When the river trail ended I was back up on the Alameda and on around to Upper Canyon Road. This is a warm climb surrounded by centuries-old adobe's, many being refurbished. At the end of this road are a couple of trailheads; some for hikers only, some fair game for all. I went left on Cerro Gordo and picked up the Dale Ball Trails on it's eastern edge. This is the biggest little trail network around, weaving in and out of the city limits, rushing beside and around private homes. And it's about as much fun as is legal here.
One of the highlights of the system is the fact that every junction is marked with a number and a mini-map. Most of the junctions are merely two ways to get to the same place, but those two routes vary greatly. You can form odd loops, figure-8's, or "try to get them all in" rides. Sometimes you'll go down one fork only to turn around and do it again just to see what the other fork was like. The terrain is a typical "high sierra" mix of sandy soil and rock, slipping into near-alpine forest at times. It can be brutally hot on the open cuts, and chillingly cool in the shade.
The vegetation is almost entirely coniferous, so you don't get much color change through the year, but the shade stays the same. It also turns into a quagmire in the rain, so be warned.
I ended up doing a big sweeping loop, meeting back up with Cerro Gordo at a different trailhead. It was a mostly downhill ride into town, giving me a few moments to cool down before turning onto Delgado and dropping back into the river to finish the ride on the same track as I started. Locals and tourists alike were enjoying the river, and they all smiled as I flew past, my own smile glued to my face.
I finished the afternoon at NMAHA getting a deep-tissue massage. $25 dollars for an hour of muscular ecstasy can't be beat.

Oh, and I dare not forget to mention... five months without a cigarette today!

Wheel Goes 'Round

2008-05-24T23:04:00.006-06:00

There are a number of reasons why I am enjoying my "wee dip" back into the shop scene, the boys at Mellow Velo being several, the addition of Art - an exponent. But the customers are a kick in several directions. Many are new to me, just folks and tourists, but occasionally I'll hear something to the tune of, "JC? You came back to the bike industry?" That usually gets a shy shrug from me. Something to the tune of 'busted.' (For the record, I'm only a hanger-on that gets paid to stop drinking. Any skill-sets I still have are a bonus.)
Today was one of those flashbacks, as well as a reunion with a family from Skate School, and some of the random "past life experiences" that inevitably happen when I spend too much time in any bike shop here.

And then there was an attempt at "arté"...

Late edition edit:

Wester Ross Update

As I have Monday off, and 'the boys' have so kindly (and foolishly) decided to open, I will be resurrecting Wester Ross 035 JSC on Monday. My own stand, my tools, off the clock, but in the view of the populace and tourons...
What a classic commuter; a touring bike from another age, another generation. A machine already filled with history.

Spring Rain

2008-05-23T22:14:00.004-06:00

The constant and continuous flow of intelligent prose is difficult for newspapers with one-hundred years experience, and far more overwhelming for a human with half that life, and a tenth of the journalistic experience. So yeah, it's been a while since I've updated.
When I rode every day, for every trip, I had tales. When I combined that with a full-time job in the 'industry' I had more tales. Now I'm a guy that's been off my bike for too long, with a real job, working one day a week at a shop. There will be tales, they'll just be further apart. Like last weekend when I had the keys to the shop...
But that's a different tale.

Lately, my life has been focused on the fact that I don't smoke cigarettes anymore. That has led to several epiphanies dealing with personal health. While these moments of auspicious glory are intense in their own right, they all help me come full-circle to the fact that my bike is the best thing that ever happened to me. A large part of my smoking history was 'on my bike'. I actually had a smoke at the top of climbs, during rest stops. It took me years to realize why my legs turned to stone after.
Now I have to relive some of those rides, do them (albeit weaker) without that chemical, shred the crap in my lungs. And enjoy some simple things; like a barbecue with fam this Saturday, a massage this Sunday, and a free Cowboy Junkies show next Sunday. At the Lensic, no less.
Now, if a certain little pvnp frame-builder would get her butt back home, life would improve exponentially.

As for future alley-cats; there is a map at Mellow Velo to stick pins into. The theory is "only in Santa Fe" and local weirdness is requested. Like an escalator that only goes up...

In General...

2008-05-08T19:51:00.004-06:00

For those of you under a rock somewhere, Issue #7 of Urban Velo is available. I mention it specifically because there is a Spokepunchers ad in it featuring a couple of prairie dogs.
"Yeah, so?"
Santa Fe is big on it's prairie dogs, or meeper's, as some of us call 'em. We relocate them before construction, we build them village's, we ship 'em off if no one has a spare acre (or 20). For many of us, they are the true sign that Winter has passed. They hibernate, so if you haven't heard "meep, meep, meep" as you're rolling past the park, you will see another snowfall, you will have a number of freezing mornings. That's important to two-wheeled folks, because we need to know when to change wardrobes. Okay, fine, we all need to know when to plant the 'shrooms and spinach.
I dig hearing them as I ride past, and meeping back at 'em.

La Gazza Ladra

2008-05-04T16:34:00.003-06:00

A few images of the latest project, the continued obsession...

So very fun to ride, a great way to get around Santa Fé.
One of these days I'll do a parts list here.

Late Weekend Review

2008-04-29T17:50:00.003-06:00

A wonderful hour of spinning La Gazza Ladra Saturday morning before rolling into the shop for a full day of wrenching. A decent flow of folks with the usual requests, as well as some heinous DOT4 brake work. I understand why Hayes uses it, but I still don't like it. That stuff is the most vile fluid known to mankind. You want to talk "carbon footprint?" How about carcinogenic footprint? Forget it, I'm not here to rant today.
Saturday was beautiful; warm, light breeze, perfect Spring weather. The usual cast of suspects rode by to say hi, and we shop-rats enjoyed the sunny bliss of the back "porch" for all it was worth. And even though our fearless leader bailed before noon to go ride, he returned with a delivery of fine pizza, and more malted barley beverages. And we actually get paid for this...
More fun on the fixed was to be had after the shop closed; laps around town searching various shrines, and other points of interest for future alleycats.
Sunday was lazy, playing with the irrigation and getting the indoor bike hooks rigged. Have to keep at least a couple of my bikes indoors...

125 days!

Update

2008-04-24T06:06:00.002-06:00

The weather continues to creep into the 70's, my psyche is channeling my bike (voices whispering ride me follow me through my day), and my attempt at real food garners mixed results. If my energy level would equal my attitude level, life would be good, but I barely have any juice left after work, and I'd probably end up twitching in an arroyo if I attempted to ride.
At least I'll make it to the shop this weekend, hang with some folks and get a little greasy. That should improve my mood considerably.

120 days!

And dig this video...

The Four Horsemen from Luke Stiles on Vimeo.

MellowVelo Update

2008-04-11T08:04:00.007-06:00

Things are flowing well in the new space, with the only "open manhole" being David's birthday party... that left some dents in a few skulls. Especially Chris'.

I shot a few new pics, with stuff in place, and people perusing. Of course, it would be better if all of you would come visit in person.

The glorious new parking/footbag zone...

The main workbench, where you might find me on a Saturday...

Bike Mike is very excited to be in the new space...

The clothing room looking festive in Spring colors...

The bike room filled with mountain love...

And some road love...

And some fixed-gear love...

And, as I wagered earlier, Brian is still on the couch...

The beginnings of another alleycat race are bubbling in the cauldron of my skull; something historical, but hysterical, too. I can't do serious. At least, not completely serious. There is too much fun to be had. I'm thinking "shrines" as the theme; big ones, little ones, old ones and new ones. You Fé riders keep track of some of your favorites, so I have a long list to work with.

Alright; the snow's gone (again), the sky is clear, and the sun is shining. Go forth and pedal!

107 days without a ciggie!

back in the... shop?

2008-03-29T20:51:00.005-06:00

Finally, a bit of time on a bike. Several bikes, actually.
I started out on my old, dependable, ti VooDoo, cruising the potholes and spots of dirt and cobble that litter Santa Fe. A breakfast burrito to go and a lazy loop around downtown to the shop, which it turns out was wonderfully busy, and it seems I have a new part-time job... Next thing I know, I have the "purple people-eater" in the stand; a Masi Gran Criterium with SRAM kit that's being fussy. SRAM? Road kit? How long have I been gone? Ah, brand new, I don't feel so old anymore. It's demons exorcised, or at least contained, I "tested it out." Interesting concept; there is only one shift paddle (no brake lever movement), and it only goes one way... it took a few tries, but it works. I'm not sure how long it would take to get over pushing through a click to get the click you want. But it was a gas to ride a light, fast road bike, pushing gears.
After several laps on that, I pulled La Gazza Ladra down. A reconsideration of lever placement, some grips to satisfy till my tape comes in, and a lap was in order. A lap that ended up being a continuing cycle of mellow spins and crazy attacks, a pit-stop back at the shop to tweak something, then the cycle began anew. Finally I put my clipless pedals on and took off on a longer route, pounding as hard as I dared, skating tourists and traffic, suddenly loving to climb. How is it climbing feels so damned good on a fixed-gear bike? So smooth, so nice, so perfect...
Back to the shop, and some tube changes, some quick-fixes, a hardcase box-job headed to Hawai'i for an Iron Woman, a bunch of rentals flowing in and out, a tour returning, pedal set-ups for a first-time clipless... after 3 years away, it was almost overwhelming. My mind was like a dusty hard drive, desperately seeking RAM, answers I knew I should have. But I think I liked it. I think I want to do it again next Saturday...
Finished out the day back on the VooDoo, bouncing off anything taller than the street, making the constant upward progress that is always the end of my rides.
It's good to be back. Thanks, David. Thanks, Mike. And Al, and Art, and even Brian.

A bow to Britain in the World's; 9 golds so far. Sweet Mother of Pearl.

94 days... I have almost forgotten that I smoked.

Finally!

2008-03-22T18:56:00.003-06:00

The first test ride of La Gazza Ladra finally happened today, and it was good. A few more touches, some last-minute bits, and she will be ready for pub crawls, alleycats, and tourist slalom. The weather is beginning to cooperate, my health is returning, and my jones is coming on strong.
Mellow Velo's new space is already rocking; service requests have tripled, rentals are flowing, sales are happening. Having direct-access parking really helps. People can swoop in, either in their cars or on their bikes, and there are usually three stands going, with a wrench available for each (unless I'm playing on one). Art has already settled in, and people have heard he is there. It's a little community now; socializing as much as actual retail work. It's a good mix.
And speaking of the boys of MV, they have generously donated my time to a number of publications. They, of course, did not bother discussing this with me first. They merely told the editors they "knew someone," and after said editors agreed, then they informed me. I love those guys; I think I'll beat them both with a pedal wrench.

Happy Easter! Go make like bunnies!

87 days!

Oh for the love of...

2008-03-09T21:02:00.002-06:00

Sorry, kids, I've been sick all week. I missed the champagne gala, the project went on hold, and now that I can focus on some cycling in the real world, all I can say is someone please shoot Pat 'effing' McQuaid.

Warmth

2008-03-01T07:23:00.004-07:00

It was 43 degrees at dawn this morning, which can only mean one thing... I must ride. But I have meetings, both business and esoteric, I have to babysit Skate School for a time, I have to check in on the progress of the shop, I have seven geocaches to find... what's a boy to do? Oh yeah, ride! The clients will get over the garb (or not), and everyone else has seen me dressed for the dirt before, so there. And yes, Pi, that means I'm riding the geared mtb today. Get over it.

First order of business: Go to this link and sign the petition to ask GoogleMaps to include bike routes.
Second order of business: The project goes on the stand next weekend. That's right, kiddies, in a perfect world, La Gazza Ladra will be rolling in a week. The parts are (I believe) all accounted for. I would do it this weekend, but the boys still want me to do it at the shop, and today is "transition" day for them. Plus, with all the stuff I have to do I would only frustrate myself by getting it partially assembled. So next Saturday it is.

Alright, kids, get off your collective butss and go do something; I have a wedding ceremony to write, and a world of subversive fun to experience. Not to mention several laws to break.

66 days without a cigarette, and the caffeine level has been quartered. It's a good thing I still have other vices.

edit - The link is active now... sorry

Relocation Update

2008-02-16T18:13:00.008-07:00

As I have mentioned, Mellow Velo is relocating to somewhat larger, considerably swoopier digs. Your erudite reporter managed a quick tour today, and with a secret decoder ring and a trophy-buckle camera.

Virtual tour in subdued hues...

From across the street, heading north on Old Santa Fe Trail...

Behind the hedge awaits the entrance (for a few)...

Most will sweep around back and stumble in the door on the right... and yes, Pi, the "beefsteak" is on the road again

Inside the back door. The "stone" bench will be to your left...

With a bathroom, then on to the kitchen (yes, a kitchen) on the far left...

Art's bench, and soon the "fridge" bench (mine,mine,mine), in the grotto on the right...

Moving forward to the back of the front door, we find the beginning of the espresso bar...

And to the left of that is Bike Mike, and the clothing room...

Which has some shelving, nice lighting, and a ladder...

Then on through the doorway to David and the New Bike room...

Turning left yet again to the lounge area, and Brian (who will probably be in the same spot when any of you actually set foot here)...

Beyond which we find the kitchen (yes, a kitchen), and at the end of the maze, the door we came in. Or was it the bathroom window?

Outside, on the right side of the building, is a strip of yard that is perfect for cleaning and prepping the rental fleet. Gravel, faucet, shade...

This is a delicious space, and perfect for a shop that does rentals as well as sales and service. The separate rooms, the old world / old school feel of the building, historic 'hood... it's going to be a great home base.

52 days free, by the way

And Yet We Move On

2008-02-07T19:55:00.000-07:00

Before I ooze about the flow of parts and the impending 'session of build', I must let everyone who has been there, is there, or will decide to go there, that my boys, the sponsors of my midlife crisis, at Mellow Velo are moving. They found somewhere in downtown Santa Fe with *gasp* seven parking spaces. The space is much larger, laid out like the house it once was, with a room for everything, including some lounging area, and even the occasional workstand for yours truly. Plus, they are bringing my old friend, nemesis, and occasional mistaken identity, Art, on board. This is extremely righteous on several levels, one being the fact that his shop was gutted by flames recently. But more about Art another day.
As for the 'session of build'; I am down to a few bits and pieces, but have decided not to rush. One; it is still zamboni-land out there, and the wind will still peel your nose off. Two; I would normally do the build at home, as I have (basically) a complete shop, though limited space. Mike and Dave have invited me to build it at Mellow, Dave indicating it would be even cooler in the new space. I tend to agree. The bike is 90% out of their shop, it's a classic ride (Dave says, "totally Victorian"), and I am almost as interesting to watch work as the monkeys at the zoo. I fling tools, though...
So unless I just cave completely and have to wrench on something new, 'the project' will wait a few more weeks. Actually, it might even be nice to wrench in a shop setting again. I hope there is somewhere for safety checks...

43

...the Wind At Your Back

2008-02-05T05:49:00.001-07:00

This will be neither the first, nor the last report of the passing of Sheldon Brown.
For many, his words were inspirational, logical, and down-right useful. He wrote about everything he tried, and tried many things. When preparing to fit together some "not-necessarily" compatible parts, I always checked his articles; odds were he had some tips.
As a wrench, as a cyclist, as a person, I will miss his presence on this plane.

Phil (the fuzzy one)

2008-02-02T18:24:00.000-07:00

I would just like to say that Phil, or more to the point, the tuxedoed rodephiles that fondle his junk every year and claim to know his wisdom, can kiss my fuzzy, pale butt. I am in the middle of breaking this year's ice (physical, metaphorical, and metaphysical), and do not need the buzz-kill of "six more weeks" of Winter. I'm well aware that the Vernal Equinox is nearly seven weeks away; that does not mean I want to dwell on the weather sucking any more than it already has. As far as I am concerned, it is going to be a perfectly ridiculous February, with March acting as the hare named for it.
In other words, kids, I'm going to have fun, ride places not meant for two-wheels to tread (both on- and off-road), and shortly, oh-so-shortly, begin to build La Gazza Ladra. Yes, the last of the parts trickle in, being picked and snatched as if by the namesake itself. So much is done, so much left to do...

Now, as to the rodent mentioned previously, I personally prefer the explanation rendered in the legend of Cailleach. It is said that this is the day she gathers firewood for the rest of Winter. If it's a bright and sunny day ("shadow"), then she'll collect a great pile of wood, ensuring she'll need it. If it's a gloomy day ("no shadow"), she'll only gather a bit, and the weather will follow accordingly.

great, but what does this have to do with bikes, dude?

Nothing. But I'm sick of feeling trapped by the weather, and I wanted to rant about it. I have the technology. Noodling on a wheel, learning to beat a drum in the same cadence as my head against the wall, and attempting to grow fungus with an IQ higher than the average convenience store worker are all minor distractions that are losing their luster. If I don't inflict some eye-opening reminders upon unsuspecting, mentally dead Hummer drivers soon, I'm going to "shoot six holes in my freezer."

And for anyone keeping track; 38 days.

Statistic

2008-01-29T18:18:00.000-07:00

Yet another cyclist, yet another friend, has been shrugged off the road by an unseeing, uncaring pseudo-human driving a tribute to American Excess and "farm-equipment" tax breaks; four tons of custom Silverado with an acre of custom bent tubing for a bumper. I suppose it's needed to protect that truck from the hazards on the ranches so prevalent in Cambridge, Mass. Like messengers, wrenches, and welders.
My friend is okay, hence the "shrugged". A little sore and a lot pissed off, but physically undamaged. The behemoth slid out of the depths, catching her rear wheel with the afore-mentioned bumper, driving her to the sidewalk in its wake like so much flotsam. And continued on its way, completely oblivious to anything but its own course.
There are many of these malevolent beasts on the road today. The present power structure encouraged the consumers, then whispered even larger platforms to the manufacturers, creating a self-replicating cycle. Trucks in this country have become our Borg; resistance is futile you will be assimilated.
So tonight I toast my friend with an ESB, a touch of kine, and a steaming Shepherd's Pi.

Too Cool

2008-01-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

And for once I am not talking about the temperature.
I am referring to this all-wooden bicycle that a 16-year old kid built. Even the chain and freewheel system. You can read the whole story at Lee Valley Tools.

Barter, in the first.

2008-01-20T19:35:00.000-07:00

Being a wrench has its advantages if you live in anything resembling "barter town". It's a service that is good for beer, groceries, couch. It will win friends and influence people much better that the 'hearts and minds' theory*. Today it garnered me a most unusual trade; tenor drum lessons.

Now, I didn't really know that I wanted to learn to play percussion, and hadn't planned on it. I had stepped in to listen to the practice of an interesting local phenomenon, and through a whirlwind moment of somewhat intentional miscommunication, I find myself in line to play in a band.
A marching band.
A Scottish Pipe and Drum Band.

Ah, well, any excuse to wear a kilt.

25 days without the nails!

*If you are unfamiliar with this US policy, ask. I'll give you the line.

Studies

2008-01-17T17:42:00.000-07:00

As much as I am sick of the cold, I am even more sick of feeling down. I've tried to get myself jazzed about damn near anything, but like a damp log in the fireplace, I burn for a moment and then fizzle with a tell-tale wisp of smoke. This has given me a great deal of time for introspection, as well as some studying. Certain lines of research constantly attract me, and I occasionally find myself ensconced in a veritable fortress of books. Most of the things I search for would be deemed esoteric at best, and rarely have to do with cycling.
Unless you want to compare the concept of "three" so prevalent in religion, the concept of a "wheel" that occurs in many of the same religions, and more, and the expression of the front wheel, crank, rear wheel trinity of motion on a bicycle. Deus in machina.
The Center will also continue its Fellowship on Subversive Studies; Seventies Subculture Excavations. Space is extremely limited, so get those essays in now.

On an obliquely related note, I'm going to light a fire, roll up in an acre of f-ink fur, and watch Mists of Avalon.

22 days nic-free

Girl After My Own Heart...

2008-01-14T20:31:00.000-07:00

Project Death

2008-01-10T17:59:00.000-07:00

It is interesting how a slight shift in one's life, or thought processes, can alter the course of your momentum. A few days ago I couldn't wait to continue hammering out the latest project, and even though the frame has arrived, I really don't care anymore. My motivation has been sucked dry. Parts lie in random locations, collecting dust. A wheel with little or no tension hangs in the stand, looking nearly as forlorn as it should.
Presently, I would rather curl up with a book than write one, rather watch a video than star in one, rather drink single-malt at the bike shop than actually build a bike.
It is curable; I know this. Time is the prescription, though a healthy dose of warmth wouldn't hurt.

And I'm still not smoking! Fifteen days!

Roots and Shoots

2008-01-06T02:27:00.000-07:00

Another day of glorious scents, with a sudden cold snap that numbed everything from the face down. A bittersweet afternoon as the Pi of Projects prepares to return to the Temple of Gear Ratio Equivocation. An impromptu archaeological dig ensued, and though no evidence of cycling was found in the layers of detritus, reminders of our subversive past were in force.
It has been said, resaid, and mis-said, that those who forget history are destined to repeat it. Perhaps those who search our past are ready to change it. Retro is usually a return to a more 'enlightened' time, or at least an enlightened memory. Fixed gear is a pure system that has, and always will, rise above the technocracy of the Industry. Before it was chic it was the benchmark. They rode Lé Tour for years after the dérailleur was invented before giving in.
Pi understands this, and has the capacity to incorporate it into the mainstream consciousness, subtly, subversively.
And then there are the Projects...

Mucha decorates the walls, Dropkick Murphys wreck the halls.

Quitter Update

2008-01-04T20:49:00.000-07:00

Nine days and holding, urges are almost non-existent. I am beginning to remember what certain things actually smelled like. And I love what cold air smells like, though I am already finished with serving Her Royal Majesty, Winter. The riding I have accomplished has been painful, and the desire to ride has been bitten at every turn. It is good fortune that my 'project' is evolving slowly; it would drive me nuts not to ride it, were it finished.
So instead, I ponder the year gone by, and a year to come, with the help of a fresh point-of-view, a new friend, a fresh set of lungs, a new ride, and far too many directions to take the Center's new Department of Projects. Subversive Projects, that is.

Quitter

2007-12-30T07:31:00.000-07:00

The cessation of hostilities 'between governments' is not the same as if the sentence read 'between cultures,' or 'between tribes.' Nor does the cessation of chemical input equate physical dependence to psychological dependence.
Stepping away from a physical addiction is similar to a government cease-fire; easy to enforce, easy to follow. Until emotions get in the way. That's when the tribal, ritual, cultural dependence comes into play. Expressions like, "It's always been that way," "That's how we do it," "Gimmeafuckinsmokenow," become the mantra of the defenders of the faith. Ritual memories boil forth, tethering the want-and-desire to the psyche of the victim.
Once the rebels have access to these memories, the struggle becomes harder. The physical body, chemically clean, must suddenly suffer the manifestation of the tribe's pain. Physical discomfort coupled with the psychological attacks threaten the government stronghold, the capitol, the palace.

"What the hell does this have to do with bicycles?"
Not much, except that I quit smoking about four days ago, which will improve both my cycling, and my enjoyment of cycling. Not to mention the air around me, the way I interact with people, the number of years I get to ride my bikes...
...but which has also got me eating most everything I see, squirting herbal remedies reminiscent of the ass-end of an ashtray in the back of my throat, and chewing on a meerschaum cigarette holder in a pale mimicry of Hunter S. Thompson.
My next post will probably be a detailed description of the dead, black cells I cough up when I ride.

Loss of Etiquette

2007-12-23T18:01:00.000-07:00

Frame preparation is a lost art. So many bikes come straight out of a box, partially assembled, and the shop lubes, checks , and tightens, and *bam* it's a bike. Even though many, probably most, shops do custom builds; a bare frame and a selection of parts, very few have the tools once deemed necessary to properly assemble a bicycle. I am referring to the "facers and chasers", those precision t-handled monstrosities that (hopefully) live in a suitcase of sorts. If you're fortunate, the suitcase is wood and has 'Campagnolo' burned into it. If you are somewhat fortunate, like me, they say 'Park' and you got the box elsewhere.
One tool served the purpose of chasing the bottom bracket threads; making sure they were clean, and cut well. Another cut the faces of the bottom bracket shell to a smooth parallel, and another performed that same function on the head tube.
Some would argue that this is an unnecessary step, that it exposes raw metal; never a good thing, especially on steel. The bare metal is easily solved by a couple coats of lacquer. Unnecessary? Not if you want your headset and bottom bracket to work as designed. In both cases you have two sets of bearings working in tandem at opposite ends of a piece of tubing. Any variation from parallel puts strain on two points in the system, creating drag and wearing those areas unevenly. This equates to more work, less efficiency, and the need to replace parts more often. Systems such as Grease Guard© are designed to last many years longer that sealed systems, yet a slight, uneven pressure can wear down a bearing cup very quickly, destroying the system.
I admit that I am fortunate to have access to these tools. It's why I build my own toys. But shops have access to these tools, also, and while they are expensive initially, the added degree of mastery to your final product will more than justify the expense.

Twisting Nipples

2007-12-08T20:14:00.000-07:00

The act of building a bicycle wheel (or any spoked wheel, for that matter) is somewhat spiritual, somewhat zen. There is a symbiosis between the parts and the builder; a hoop of fragile aluminum, a machined heart, a bundle of bent wires with threaded ends, and a crusty human of questionable morals. With care and attention these parts suddenly transform into a solid, lightweight (relatively speaking) balance point for the rest of the assembly. And if building a wheel seems sublime, riding that wheel adds exponentially to the feeling.
To ride, to comprehend the physics that keep you aloft, to have had a direct hand in the physics involved. The only thing better is to build a set of wheels, sign them, and then see them again, years later, when they come through the shop for a tube or minor truing.
If I knew I could pay the bills, I would willingly take a year off to do nothing but build wheels.

"Light, strong, cheap; pick any two." - Keith Bontrager

Dirt

2007-12-01T17:16:00.000-07:00

Today was the first off-road ride I have done in over a year. And my body is reminding me, very pointedly, of that truism. I was hoping for some of the previously described snow, but no luck; it stayed warm and we got rain. Which meant that everything was a complete mud-bog. Climbs with traction were still a no-traction situation due to the build-up on the tires. At one point I couldn't even get the bike to move there was so much gunk and gravel packed into the brakes. But it was fun. "Oh-yeah-this-is-why-I-did-this-for-years" kind of fun. It definitely won't be another year before I do it again.
It was an odd adjustment getting on old faithful after riding a cross bike for the last few months. Such a different feel. It wasn't noticeable on the trail, since that's what the bike is set up for, but riding the road to the trailhead and back felt like I was on a kid's BMX bike. Then there were all those gears...
My legs have definitely strengthened, and some skills are still sharp, but many of my skills are vacationing in Tortuga, and my black lungs have expatriated to Tuscany, with little chance of returning. I've got to get off the smokes if I ever hope to be able to breathe properly again.
Hell, I'm so beat that I think I'll join the Tuesday Night Frolic this week.

Snow

2007-11-27T19:47:00.000-07:00

Let's get this straight; I really don't enjoy snow. I have never found, or understood, the fascination of spending hours and dollars for no other reason than snow. This is a prejudice based almost entirely on environment. Snow was never a large part of my upbringing, being a desert rat. It came sometimes. If you woke up early and looked out the window, it was beautiful. By the time you went to school, or at least by recess, it was slush. In all other matters it was an inconvenience. As an adult, I managed to avoid snow for nearly a decade.
However comma
There is an insane fascination for riding a mountain bike in the snow. The patchy sections that have a particular crunch when your tire breaks the crust for the first time. The crazed descents when your only brakes are the nearest drift; burying your tires until you can steer back onto the ice-pack again. Big, fat flakes coming out of nowhere on a sunny Winter ride, splatting wetly on your glasses. Riding from the warmth of the parking lot to a full-blown blizzard, and back again. Finding out that smooth, flat section of snow actually hides a 5-foot hole.
Again, I can blame environment. Northern New Mexico is a haven for "interesting" weather. Only here could I have experienced certain weather phenomena, ridiculous climactic changes. An adaptable climate, for me, because it's still desert. High desert, yes, but in many aspects it's the same zone as my childhood. With elevation.
So, as always, I welcome the snow in the mountains. But I'd really rather not find it on my doorstep.

Details

2007-11-23T16:21:00.000-07:00

The bells of St.Francis sound the hour, and from my porch I can hear them perfectly. A little distance, a little elevation. Even with the light snow, and the damping effect it has, the tone and timbre come through completely. Actually far nicer than when you're pedaling by.
But I pedal by often. I like the park, the architecture, the details. Get off, lock up, take a little walk around and pay attention for a minute. There are a lot of buildings like that here, old buildings, elaborate details. You could spend hours sketching the layers. You can spend hours on one doorway.
Riding a bike around downtown gives you the chance to see these buildings, and the freedom to stop on a dime and enjoy a new treasure. Sundays are the best because no one is working, the crowds are usually mellower, traffic's a bit lighter. Old, government buildings are the best for details; our penchant for excess, especially during the territorial days (which coincide with British Victorian excess), left a legacy of millwork that boggles many a modern mind. The East entrance of the Bataan Building is a perfect example. It took me over an hour to sketch the mouldings above the door. There are so many layers, so many elements stacked, both vertically and horizontally, that the process of deconstructing them is nearly as involved as the original drawings must have been.
I like to keep both a journal and a sketchbook in my bag, though I usually end up with one or the other. Sketches on lined paper, notes on blank sheets... Having separate volumes isn't a requirement, but it makes file searches easier in the future. It is insane how many times I have gone to look for a note, or a sketch, and had to go through six or seven different Moleskine's to find it.
But the point here is; carry something to record your visions, your discoveries. We are fortunate Santa Fe is a very old city, and many of us are jaded to it's beauty. Those of you reading in other cities and towns probably have equally amazing treasures. The idea is to go out and find them.

And A Big Shout Out...

2007-11-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

I just received two custom-made cycling caps from Spokepunchers. I've worn a few in my time, and laughed at many-a-more, but these are the nicest, best fitting, bike hats I've ever worn.
Check the site; Casey does more than hats, but bikes (and dinosaurs) are at her core.

The Snowball Effect

2007-11-21T19:48:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing I like building wheels...
When I got the Wester Ross collection, there was a spare set of wheels for 035; Record hubs on some bad-weld Weinmann rims. I clipped them immediately for use on 321. Then I put my brain in gear. The spare hubs are 40-hole.
Frame 321 was designed for a 26 x 1-3/8 wheel (hard to find a decent rim these days). Some research uncovered that the newly-popularized 650b rim will work. The ERD is only 5mm smaller, and the only readily available rim has an 11mm brake surface. Yeah...
Of course, it doesn't come in a 40-hole version. But it does come 36. The wheels on 035 are 36. I can get rims for 035 in 40-hole.
Anyone else realize the snowball's rolling down the hill?
So on top of the wheelset I'm getting ready to lace for the "sports car" project, I have two '70s Campy-based wheelsets to build.
Good thing I have three built sets in storage in case another project rears it's ugly head.

like a certain road bike frame...

Mas Wrenching

2007-11-17T19:41:00.000-07:00

DB and I continued our "burnout" discussion today. In many ways, he's a salesman. But I mean that in a good way. He's also an accomplished wrench, a tour guide, a store owner. And this is part of what has kept it fresh for him. He's changed locations, changed demographics, changed the way he does business. He wouldn't go back to our "old life" to save his soul. He found an equation that works; that answers the question.
We were also discussing a project I have going; my "sports car" bike. As I described my plans he laughed. "You are Projects, bro," he said. "that's your niche. The project man. No out-of the-box for you."
He's right, I adore custom builds. They are the reason I became a wrench in the first place. When someone looks at factory specs for hours and realizes they want to build from the ground up, select every piece of the bike from all the available parts, that's my cue. I want to help them. Function or fashion, techno or retro, call me. Let's stare at catalogs, debate calculations, compare sizes, ponder colors. The two-week build, the two-month build. The epitome.
I sound like fucking Martha Stewart...

To Wrench Or Not To Wrench

2007-11-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

The transformation is becoming too complete; I am actually missing being a wrench. Indeed, I'm considering asking a friend who owns a shop if he needs another wrench. Not full-time, mind you, I'm not that far gone yet, and I love what I do now. Maybe one day a week, maybe only a half-day. Something.
We had this discussion about burnout today; the combined effects of both working and riding in the same life. It knocked me out of the "industry", taking my ride with it. It's happening to another friend of ours as we speak. I'll bet some doughnuts we aren't the only ones.
It wasn't so much about everyone in the biz, it was more about the service side of the picture. If you're a salesman first, the survival rate is considerably higher. Retail sales is only enhanced by a love of the product. A true salesman can sell... anything, whereas a wrench is a singularly-minded creature in many respects.
Many people work on their own bikes, a fair number get paid for it at some point in their lives, and a few make a career of it. The more you do it, the more you enjoy it, and the first one's usually free. Then somewhere down the road you apply to be paid to do it; a "pro" under certain legal headings. From there, the trail usually forks several ways...
You wrench for a while, and you're done.
You wrench for a while, and always keep it sharp as a fall-back.
You wrench.
It's that last group that seems to have the highest rate of burnout. Constantly attempting to save the dignity of well-made bikes, as well as trying to bring big-box zombies back to life. You begin by trying to save the world, keep them all running. Then you learn the difference. Certain brands evoke an instant response, good or bad. That's normal, it's a survival instinct. Sometimes it stops there, sometimes it grows into prejudice. You begin to judge your customers by the condition of their ride. Judge, jury, and executioner.
The last stage is contempt. That's the killer; the end of your career path, because once you get there you hold the machine in as much contempt as the populace. And you walk away. Some never return, but I, for one, am glad I came back. I have rediscovered two of the simplest pleasures in my life; riding for no other reason than to ride, and tweaking my steed to my own, personal specs.
Maybe I just miss the dirty fingerprints etched into my callouses. They are finally beginning to fade after three-and-a-half years.

Traffic Rant

2007-11-13T21:29:00.000-07:00

There are days when I wonder if every driver is drunk. And then there are days when I know they are. But that is "Santa"; realize it before you hit the streets, or pay dearly. If the other cars are invisible, be damn sure you are, too. And therein lies the heart of the problem.
People do everything in their cars except drive. Phone, computer, DVD, GPS, BJ, eat, makeup, nails, toenails, red light... "Bicycle? What bicycle?" And then it's our fault because we were "invisible." Forget the fact that you have the equivalent of 60 watts of halogen power on your bike, more reflective tape than a firefighter, and a divider between your lane and theirs; you were invisible. And it's your fault.
This town needs to wake up and enforce it's own regulations. The average driver thinks bike lanes are skinny turn lanes designed to piss them off. Or an escape route when the speed humps threaten their ground effects. A lane without enforcement is free game. As are the people in the lane.

2007-11-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

A few images from the Noché dé los Muertos ride...
thanks to David Price for bringing his camera.

Factions (part deux)

2007-11-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

Why?
I'm used to road versus dirt, racer versus rider, people who are "training" sneering at people who are commuting... Used to it, but I still don't understand it. We all ride bicycles, we love our bicycles; why do we hold such animosity for those who worship a different style?
And now, as I explore deeper levels of our addiction, I find deeper animosity. Fixie riders who sneer at other fixie riders; ninjas who are too cool to be seen with the cruisers, students in one school who won't ride with students from another school, label-whores who won't stoop to be seen with anyone "generic"...
Why?
A thousand years ago, when I began riding, all that mattered was two wheels. Oh sure, the Stingrays got the style points, but they didn't hold up to the Western Flyers and Jet Pilots. Those 26"-wheeled behemoths could survive anything, even being t-boned by a '60s Cadillac (personal experience). But we never divided into factions, we just rode. Every kid in the neighborhood from 6 to 16 that had a bike would be out in force, doing crits around the 'hood, blasting through vacant lots, roosting off every piece of transition we found. We all had bikes, we all loved our bikes. Eventually some of us "grew up", and bikes (as well as the semi-religious experience of riding them) faded into memory. If they returned, it was not to the fold, but into a boutique-based self styling that harkened the factionalism we have today.
Why?
Roots, people, remember your roots. Diamond frame, cranks, chain, two wheels. The most efficient machine ever invented. No matter how technologically advanced the components become, it still boils down to a bicycle. The basis of it all.

Factions

2007-11-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

There is a rant fermenting inside me, but it hasn't peaked; hasn't reached critical mass (pun intended). It's all about factions and divisions, clique versus clack, who will ride with whom, us versus them...
so until it comes to a head, I want to share this passage from Greg Moody's book Perfect Circles. It has a lot of my underlying current running through it.

"There are those who say that France has lost it's passion for cycling - forgotten the sport of Jaques Anquetil and Raymond Poulidor, Bernard Hinault and Louison Bobet - but the rolling enclosure that was Haven still stirred something in all it passed; the brilliant white of the Colnago frames, the whirring perfection of the Campagnolo gears, the knife-edge hum of the Mavic wheels, a flock of black-red-and-gold jerseys, all in rhythm, speeding, as one, down a French country road, north of Paris in the middle of June, stopping one and all, controlling the pavement like an army on maneuvers.
Jean Jablom stepped out of his bicycle shop as the caravan sped past. He eyed Richard Bourgoin, the French team leader, and waved to Will Ross, the American lieutenant - a regular in the shop, for conversation more than gear - then watched the team disappear over a hilltop, then reappear in the distance, then disappear and reappear again before losing themselves over the horizon.
Jablom turned back to his shop and reached for the door. He stopped. Inside, a group of French teenagers was looking at mountain bikes. The few road bikes Jablom still stocked were virtually ignored. The passing of Haven, the premier cycling team in France, had not caused a stir among any except the faithful. And there were far fewer faithful today.
As he watched the teenagers spin the wheels of the mountain bikes, a tear ran down the wrinkled moonscape of Jablom's face. This year, it will change, he thought. This year, a Frenchman will win Le Tour de France.
And you, he silently raged, looking at the teenagers, just missed him."

Wester Ross

2007-11-05T17:42:00.000-07:00

In the course of nine years, John Connell and Fergus Forsyth built a total of four-hundred seventy-eight bicycle frames (477 traditional, and one tandem). They were steel; mostly Reynolds 531, lugged, silver brazed, and finished with a baked enamel. They were, and are, classic bicycles. I have the honor of owning two of them; #035 JSC, and #321 FGF.
I inherited them from my good friend Ed Campbell on the condition that I get them rolling and love them as they should be loved. Not a difficult condition in my book.
#035 is a touring rig with "Buick" geometry. I haven't gotten the protractor on it yet, but the first word that comes to mind is "relaxed".
#321 is presently a bare frame, and is more of a bomber, what they used to call a "ruff-stuff" bike. Yes, it pre-dates mountain biking by a few years.
Over the next few months I'll be fiddling with these toys, and I'll try to keep you updated as I go.

What's A Girl To Do?

2007-11-04T16:55:00.000-07:00

I found this on Urban Velo . Thought it was the greatest, personally.

The Basis of It All

2007-11-04T16:39:00.000-07:00

What drives us? Bikes. So without further ado, here's my daily driver...
'07 San Jose. I had waffled about getting a track bike for a couple of years, but when I saw the versatility in this rig, coupled with fixed-gear capability, I knew I had found my ride.
Like a true Bike Junkie, I have swapped some parts around. I got rid of the "road" drop bars, and added a "dirt drop" style bar. the Sugino cranks went into the parts box, and my classic Stronglight cranks (with drilled chainring) came out of retirement. Lights, and a slick brass bell, keep me noticed on our kooky streets. The tires can handle dirt roads and rolling trails, the gearing is low enough for light all-terrain. If Winter weather hits, the rack-n-fenders will go on for the commute.
Now if my other bikes would stop looking at me like that...

Words of Appreciation

2007-11-04T15:53:00.000-07:00

Friday night I put on the Noché dé los Muertos Alleycat Esoteric Scavenger Hunt & Poker Run. The event was as convoluted as the title, but 18 people showed up to have fun in one way or another. Thanks go to each one of them for wanting to play, and special thanks to Missy, Gunnar, Daniel, and Ben, who gave up the choice to ride and instead ran the checkpoints for me. And Jack, who came to run a checkpoint to begin with. Couldn't have had a race without them.
Gerhardt came in first, but only had a Pair of 10's to play, giving him a modified time of 7:58. David Price (of Timeship Racing downhill skateboard fame) came in much later, but had the best hand (a Jack-high Straight), giving him a modified time of 7:07.
The big upset was Gerhart from Burque beating local icon Bike-Mike. At least in Mike's eyes.
Other props go out to Chris Hilson for his endless skids, RJ for riding 60 miles to get there, and of course to mellow VELO for supplying the prizes, as well as copious amounts of advise, support, and espresso.
Hopefully others will follow suit, and come up with new ways to be silly on bicycles. I enjoy organizing the occasional race, but sometimes I want to play, too.

Confessions of a Relapsed Bike Junkie

2007-11-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

Their are cyclists, and then there are bike junkies. Cyclists ride for one or many reasons, and generally revere their equipment to some degree. Bike Junkies, on the other hand, collect, rebuild, fiddle, modify, and let bike culture absorb into their skin like DMT in the '70s. They are, in general, as helpless (and hopeless) as any other addict. Sometimes they can walk away from the need, the itch, but it always lingers over their left shoulder like Death in a Casteneda novel.
This isn't just "personal opinion" on my part, it's the voice of experience. I managed to walk away from the "industry", and the personal addiction for several years. Then I became a "cyclist" for a while. Then I fell off the wagon. Hard.
Over the next few posts, I'll detail my rise to Bike Junkie, my reformation, and my relapse. I'll also be chronicling the restoration of a '70s Wester Ross, the building of an '80s Wester Ross, the pitfalls of riding in Santa Fe, and the joys of fixed gear cycling.
Comments are welcome, but please leave your attitude at the door.