Spring Rain

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...

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.

Dirt

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

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.