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...

In General...

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.

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.

Studies

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