Random Update

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

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)

View From the Streets

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.

Fixed Gear Corruption

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

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.

duck and cover

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...

...

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!

Le Fini (almost)

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!

D-lusion

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!

Wednesday

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

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

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!

Late Weekend Review

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

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

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?

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.

Relocation Update

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

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

Phil (the fuzzy one)

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.

Barter, in the first.

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.