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)

Cellidh

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.

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.

Noché de los Muertos

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

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!

Wheel Goes 'Round

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

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...

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!

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!

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

Roots and Shoots

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.