That is to say that being the consummate professional I am, I'm throwing a little something up here for your heart and soul in my absence. Of course this image is meant to imply that I'm not here and you all are, which it totally doesn't.
You get my drift though.
I'll start off with a little story about my commute home on Wednesday. I donned my stretchy pants, and tap shoes and boarded my speed cycle to get some good base miles in (that's bike racer speak, you know. Really I was just riding my bike due to an all day landslide of total and utter crap, and it was just what the doctor ordered to help prevent me from inserting my head into the oven.) Anyhow, there I am blissfully ending my ride, flowing along though the dawdling river of steel and glass when suddenly from my right blasts a burgundy Honda P.O.S., cutting me off and missing my front wheel by mere feet. "Hellooooo,.."I began into the passenger side window. "Would you mind opening your eyes when you drive?" I said, as the horn blared and the middle aged woman's middle aged middle finger extended in my direction. Catching up with her I began again- "did you really just pull out in front of me and then flip me off?" "You damn bicyclists are always running stop signs and doing whatever...." I cut her off -"YOU PULLED OUT IN FRONT OF ME!" I didn't make an immediate assessment of you and assume you were a blind, white trash retard, though it would appear that I wouldn't have been very far off of the mark had I done so" I concluded, leaving her dumbfounded, cigarette dangling from her gaping, ugly mouth. I peeled away feeling vindicated. A few blocks later she passed me again, saying and doing nothing, and as icing on the cake of our interaction, I passed by for a final time giving her my boldest single digit salute.
"See you in the government cheese line" I muttered to myself as I headed off into the sunset.
Thou shalt not cross a disgruntled man in an EVIL kit, might be the lesson here, and I'm quite proud of myself for once again leaving the windows intact and hopefully her ego in pieces.
Now then, on to business. First up, Bobo let us know how his most recent suffer fest worked out for him;
"Shouldn't the caption be more like "oh crap, they're testing my Olympic blood?!@%$"
In more local racing news, Lemurian was really tough this year as the field just keeps getting faster and faster... 333 total racers blasted off the front with a Canadian Exterra Champ taking the win in a new course record of 2:06. Barbara Howe won the women's pro race. Check out this photo of me pulling hard across the Whiskeytown Dam...
I was determined to hit the single tracks in front...I don't recall seeing a photo helicopter, but my head was down... I finished in 2:35 (2 mins of my time last year-bummer): 25 miles / 4333' climbing / many water crossings.
Bobo
Choice quotes:
Mike Vine, Race Winner - "You can usually tell right away whether you can compete."
"I was starting to feel like I was barely holding on.
"If it had been a 2 1/2-hour race, I don't think I could have held on." (What he doesn't say is that after the race, he went for a 10K run - I drank beers)"
Bobo's tenacity reminds me of a quote Robert Ives used to be fond of saying- "I might not be the fastest bike racer, but I can suffer better than anybody."
Way to suffer Bobo. It makes me proud to have spent as many races in your shadow as I have.
Now in news of the 'why the hell not?' A different Robert gets ahold of us to ask that very question;
"I don't know about you, but I'll definitely be in Spain for this one.
The Baby Jumping Festival (El Colacho)
June 11-15, 2009
Castrillo de Murcia, Spain
Free
First staged in 1620, this strange event celebrating Corpus Christi sees grown men dressed as the Devil leaping over a row of babies lying in the street.
As I replied to Robert, how embarrassed would you be to show up wearing the same baby jumping suit as that man?
I for one would be totally mortified.
I don't know how it is that that little slice of weirdness slipped under my radar, but I am forever thankful that I've got the foot soldiers out in the interwebs doing.. er.. God's work.
No sooner do I mention 'God's work' (in jest of course) do I get an email from John about a fella that is out there in the world working very hard to make a positive difference, and not just by burning the devil's car;
"Stevil,
Been a spot of time since my last writing and I can say that’s a good thing. This time around it isn’t about friends discovering their true values as one of them almost gets removed from the chessboard o’ life, but it does involve friends helping complete strangers. Likely you’ve seen this propped up on Urbanvelo, but I’d like to get this to as wide of an audience as possible.
Sam has such a huge share of blame for getting me into bikes with wheels larger than 20”, and into shops, messenger work, and eventually the industry. I’m not sure my folks would ever forgive him if they knew. We lived together years ago in what could best be described as an amazing place, amazing that it housed so many people and that we never burned it down considering some of the shows had and the people who lived and played there. Halcyon days. After I quit my job at a restaurant he hooked me up with a gig at one of our large shops in Wisco where he worked. He helped teach me why Suntour and Campy rule if that gives you any idea what kinda cat he is, and always put his actions before his words. He’s running a new gig in of all places Africa, teaching folks the art of working on bikes, giving them the opportunity to earn a living or at least ride a bike that is going to explode on them. Only trouble is he needs tools, and tools ain’t cheap no matter how you cut it and how well you’re being hooked up. Hoping that you can spread the word and maybe get a few more dollars in the coffer. We all know the bike can change the world, and in this case it’s chump change to help make it happ’n cap’n. I figure if my unemployed English teaching friend Brian can throw in a few bones, there’s no reason we can’t hit that magic number sooner than later.
What say ya?
-John
Indeed, if we can all dig a bit deeper into our pockets, and help out with this very worthy endeavor I'll do what I can to ensure we get gold stars on Santa's nice list.
I don't know about you all, but I've got red marks o'plenty. I need all the help I can get to get back on the big fella's good side.
But as you all know, getting on my good side is easy.
Rainman sent an email illustrating just how simple it can be;
"Stevil,
Happy hump day to you. I need to share some unicorn awesomeness with you.....attacked by dancing unicorns and glittery ponies...mini-ponies.
Other than they were attacked I don't understand any other part of the article....uber nerdspeak.
Have some fun, hump someone.
-Rainman"
It's as simple as that. Squeeze some porn into the superbowl, or sprinkle some unicorns on ESPN, and you're on the fast track into the cockles of my heart.
Finally, here is one from Ashley for the 'holy crap' files;
Hey, so I guess that's it. Hold the fort down and jump some babies in my absence.
I'll catch you on Wednesday(ish).
Until then, here is something for you to think about;
Generally I feel pretty content with what I convey here on the Bummer Life, and I think that I'm more or less at the top of my game in terms of illustrating a lifestyle full of general attempts at avoidence, but every so often I find something that dwarfs my platform and illustrates everything I wish I could do and say with this medium. I like to think that folks find a welcoming community here, and maybe periodic inspiration, whether that comes in a form of a photo bomb, some of our own assembling to fight for a cause or anything in between.
But sometimes a wedge of media comes along that is just so much more shimmering and clear than everything I thought I knew or am able to expound on.
This clip of Stevie Wonder that the Skipper sent me is just such a find;
Like one of the video's responses so correctly stated, "this is but one of 1,000 reasons why he isn't called Stevie Prettygood. Pure awesome."
The next time you come across a seemingly insurmountable dilemma, I'd like for you to think about this video.
Now maybe you happen to be a really kick ass blind drummer, so then in that case, this video probably doesn't do much for you, but for me, it has very literally altered my perspective. From the crowd's reserved hand clapping, (if I was there, I would have broken myself getting up on the get down), to the first drummer's facial expressions, and what might have been going through his head, (Hmmm, maybe I should have become a dentist.)
You never know when and how inspiration will strike, but it's a damn exhilarating sensation when it does.
Now then... Moving on..
Shaking out the mail bag recently, the following offering from Mark is the kind of thing that fills me full of what are commonly known as 'warm fuzzies';
"Got a coffee this morning and received my change with a huge smile and a thought of you...."
That's the kind of warm fuzzy I don't want a shot of Penicellin for.
From there, I don't suppose there is anywhere to go but down.
'Down under' that is;
(Seriously, I'm a natural at this sort of thing.)
"Hey Stevil and Co.
More funder down under... Melrose Fat Tyre festival (AKA Bastard child of Fruita Fat Tire Festival) is almost upon us. June 5-8 in the sleepy but totally awesome village of Melrose; 1 hotel per 150 locals and more gnarly single track than you can poke a carbon fibre stick at. Last year there was clunker crits, sheep bike trials, night rides, epic adventures and some elite level glass raising and elbow bending. This year who knows what the kids at Over the Edge Sports have dreamed up, but we know it'll be good.
or ring them on their landline (+61) 88 666 2222 or email ote@otesports.com.au
yeah that phone number is for real
Bert Heathwood"
Pal of Swobo, and really, all who meet her, Tina B is back in Australia right now, and if I had a few more dollars than I do sense, I'd be making my way there post-haste.
In other news of bike nerdery, Gary Boulanger got ahold of me to share an interview that he had recently done with Joe Parkin('s got nice hair) and for any who've read 'A Dog In A Hat', this piece makes a very nice accompaniment.
In response to the interview, Captain Dave wrote Joe and simply stated 'that was a great interview, but I was saddened that there weren't more photos of your sack.'
He's got a way with words, The Captain does.
Well, for those who may have missed out on Pinto's last post, One on One Studio is set to have a feast for the eyes, ears and mouth this up coming weekend;
The eyes cause there will be art things to look at, the ears because there will most assuredly be profanity used in never before conceived ways, and the mouth because Minneapolisans taste like Raspberries.
Like I've said before, be there or be the shape that rhymes with 'there'.
Perhaps I should mention that this means Friday and Monday's posts will be a little late, but I think that I should be able to find a computer and steal away a little bit of time to at least post a photo or two.
I'll try not to leave you hanging.
The Nomad known as Elaina also caught up with us to keep us up to speed on her adventures;
"This is how to avoid the bummer life? How about 1000km of cyclocross through western Spain. It's called the Vía de la Plata and it's actually an old pilgrimage route that runs from Sevilla to Santiago de Compostela.
There's really no need to run off to the other side of the world to ride on some dirt, but if you find yourself in the area, it's the thing to do. It's not really touristy. The route is well marked.
You get to tell your friends you rode your bike through a place called Extremadura. Oh yeah, and if you're willing to pretend that you're Catholic, the church will give you a certificate that gets you into hostels from as low as 2 euros per night, so it's cheap too!
Here's a little photo trinket for you Swobo kooks: my beautiful Caletti at km 666 of the adjacent highway.
And three images of riding conditions. Enjoy.
xoxo
Your pal,
Elaina"
That looks like a right nice adventure, and just for Elaina and her obvious taste in creature comforts, I offer this;
It's the little things that make home wherever you lay your head, you know?
In name dropping news, former cycling superstar, and current general superstar, Daryl Price rolled lazily though the warehouse on Tuesday, but sadly he wasn't wearing this;
Not in real life anyway, but in my mind's eye, he is always wearing that.
I shouldn't go without mentioning that the 2009 NAX is nearly upon us, (well, not really, but it's good to get the news out early and often) and their new website is awaiting your visit.
On that note, let's get up and out.
As I'm sure you all aware, today is Wednesday, which is just like Friday, except most of us have to show up to work the following day, which is a drag, but that shouldn't stop us from milking a bit of rad out just the same.
As I often do when I get a bit of free time, and after I've cleaned out my ears (oh, that feels good) I begin to dip back into my inbox and pull the assortment of correspondences out like so many clumps of ear wax. So let's get to it, shall we?
The above shot was sent in by Garro some time ago. I think I've finally found my calling..
Delivering three of my favorite things.
Then, the one known only as 'outoftheoffice' wrote in to let us know about how their little neighborhood beer crawl has evolved into a ride with hundreds of their closest friends;
"Stevil. Seeing the various accounts of bummer life avoidance each week does more than words can describe, HTATBL is an inspiration to us all.
Saying the bummer life was avoided this past weekend in Lubbock, TX would be an understatement, it was confronted, decimated, and ultimately buried under a heap of bicycles and beer cans. The Tour de Tech Terrace started 5 years ago with 35 close friends; this past weekend that number blossomed to 1137. Imagine a roaming block party that moves every 20 min covering 10 miles while stopping at 10 different houses and manages to bring people from all circles together under the umbrella of bicycles and libations. What makes this ride great is how its done: no entry fee (just canned food donations), run solely by college students, completely not for profit, oh and its BYOB.
The ride started with some of this;
Which led to more of this;
Which included lots of this;
some of this;
and a splash of this;
All the while there was plenty of this;
which culminated in this;
and this;
Keep fighting the good fight, we'll be here cheering.
outoftheoffice"
So there you go.. If you thought there was even a slight waft of bummer life in Lubbock, you very obviously thought wrong.
Now that the sun is shining on most places in this great nation of ours, the celebrations of being outside are beginning to happen with more regularity. One of which is going down in Los Angeles (where ironically the sun shines most of the time), this coming weekend.
If you live in the area, and you love the two wheels, why not get out to see what's what? Our own El Corpo will be there flying the freak flag in force, so track him down and slap some skins.
Boise's Bikes and Rec has some goods coming up as well;
Take note folks. Freaksouts are fixing to abound.
It's not just us old grumps that have a thing for the bikes neither. No sirs and maams.
Proof can be found in this email and clip sent from Dan in which he writes;
"she is my buddies little girl. 21 months old. fuck yeah."
That's pretty cute, but I could have used about 21 more seconds of Slayer.
Maybe that's just me though.
Ok, here is some mad scientist nonsense sent in from Zlatty;
"Stevil,
I've always wanted to try the old fixie MTB. I copied the idea of drilling disc rotor mounting holes into a SS cog from somewhere, but still wanted to run a disc brake. It's a little out of crazyville, but I bolted the disc rotor to a second SS cog and mounted it on the cassette side (now the left).
It works. Plus the disc rotor freewheels when you roll backwards (totally useless feature, but it looks sweet!).
Keep up the good work Mister.
-Zlatty"
I can barely handle wrapping my mind around threading the pedals in the correct side cranks. This project just made my brain leak.
El Corpo sent in a clip to me that tell me a couple of things.
One, this guy hasn't seen "American Psycho" and two, this guy is well on his way to winning the biggest douchebag in the planet award.
The only thing that would be better is if when you opened the card this video played.
So if you've read this blurg for any length of time, you're aware that despite the fact that I spend so much energy on this virtual medium, that I'm a huge sucker for pulp. You know, a zine or magazine that you can hold in your hands, or fold up and put in your pocket. Just such a magazine is Bike Monkey, who has a new issue coming out directly.
They do good work, those bike monkeys do.
In closing I'm going to go ahead and poach a bit straight off of the Soulcraft Bicycles blog from Friday;
"Back last December when Soulcraft hole-shotter Hurl came out for our annual training camp, we wisely replaced our secret stash with brand new supplies. Well, on Friday afternoon as I was slaying a fierce set of hill repeats I thought to myself "I'm a might bit parched. I probably should have stopped by the lick to pick up some training libations." Just then the light bulb above my head popped to life.
"Ahh.. The log..."
Like the Hydra protecting the treasure, I was pleased to find my own personal force of Army Ants taking care not to let any interlopers wrongfully procure the booty;
I began singing the secret song and doing the secret dance, parting the beasts like a tiny, pissed off Red Sea and uncovered the stash, just as I'd left it;
Well, just as I'd left it aside from being covered by what I could only assume to be ant crap. I then adjourned to a sunny spot where I jumped around by myself;
It's activities such as this that ensure my vice-like grip on solid mid pack finishes all season long.
Sheeoot, I couldn't have said it better myself.
I suspect at this point, your attention span is waning, so I will go ahead and pull the plug on our latest installment.
I've got more for later, and will try and dump the rest of it out on Wednesday, cause that's what I do.
Also, for this week's header shot, I gotta offer up thanks to The Bike Lemming. Is the photo one taken by the mystery blogger or of the mystery blogger?
That is a question we just may never have the answer to.
It is now that I'd say 'happy Monday', but that phrase has never made much sense to me, as the two words fit together like 'restrained force' or 'compassionate conservative' so I'll just leave you with my hope that you get out of today in one piece, and that we can join up together on Wednesday.
Turning Australian-ese, I think I'm turning Australian-ese, I really think so, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Turning Australian-ese, I think I'm turning Australian-ese, I really think so, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah....
I heart the hell out of that Andy.
And you know for that matter, Dan (pictured) aint too shabby himself.
Because it's finally Friday, and I'm tired and feeling especially out of gas, I will go ahead and throw the following video up. Now it should be noted that this video isn't especially safe for work, but then again, that's kinda relative, because for example, if you work in a place like Swobo, or Dahlonega Wheel Works, watching videos like this is required, thus being very safe for work;
My roots are dirty too 1/2 Price. My roots are dirty too.
What do you all have planned for the weekend?
A picnic?
Do some laundry?
Ride a bicycle?
Catch a movie with yer Kin-folk, and then shoot at yer neighbors?
Thad, who was one of my compatriots on the 'Joe's got hair and wrote a book ride', emailed me to let me know just how deep his radtardation runs;
"Yo Stevil,
Thanks for helping me avoid the suckiness that is the bummer life on a weekly basis. This past weekend my girl, the Lovely Jessica, and my dirtbag self decided to roll on down to the Sea Otter Bicycle Festival in Monterey and represent Santa Cruz in style thanks to Josh Muir from the Bike Church who loaned me his tandem and Kelly and Darin from Ped Ex who loaned me the rad cargo trailer with a fork mount so I could tow my Santa Cruz Roadster (thanks for the hook-up Willy!).
Thursday the Lovely Jess and I loaded up the cargo trailer with my race bike, camping gear, and a cooler full of ice cold Tecates which we kept conveniently close in the cooler at the front of the trailer, and headed south to Sea Otter. When we pulled into the race park at Laguna Seca it was like the Clampits coming into Beverley Hills, getting weird stares from the people in their 60 foot motor homes and jacked-up trucks carrying the latest $8,000 mountain bikes.
I threw down a second place in the road race on Friday and a win in the circuit race on Saturday and then Jess and I were more than happy to pedal back home to Santa Cruz, tired of being accosted by aggressive vendors trying to get me to sample their latest crack-like energy drink or bounce up and down on some new uber bike with a down hill shock that had 72 inches of travel. The funniest part of the whole weekend was, after a few celebratory brews and waiting 2 hours for the awards presentation after my circuit race, I ended up on top of the podium and this chesty couger smears lipstick on my cheeks and shoves a Thule car top bike rack in my hands and walks away before I can object.
So there I am on the podium, 3 pints of IPA coursing through my veins, lost in the irony of it all. Damn.
It's about time for another Bob Loves Joes Hair Ride ain't it?
Cheers, Thad"
That right there is everything about life that I whole heartedly embrace wrapped up in a single correspondence, and touches point on just exactly why The Sea Otter and I don't really get along anymore..
Congratulations Thad, and just because we haven't had one in a while and your email came along at a perfect time, coupled with just cause you and your better half are bad asses, welcome to the coveted position of Friday Hero, and yes, the time for a dry 'Joe's got hair' ride is approaching, or perhaps it should be called the 'Joe's got dry hair' ride.
Details will follow.
Now, in closing, did you know that there is a new magazine on the horizon coming out thats just for the segment of our population that smells good? Call that a sexist statement if you must, but I'll be damned if I've ever been around many women who generally smell as bad as most men I know. It's just like a physiological phenomenon. Anyway, as I was saying, there is a magazine coming out thats just for the girls, and with the powerhouses of productivity that are behind it, I imagine that it's going to be an incredible success.
For those of you who are fortunate enough not to know this gentleman, his name is Sov, and he's one of the driving forces behind Surly bikes. When I took this picture we were on our way to have dinner and enjoy some of one another's company. After dinner we adjourned to the bar for a night cap where I was promptly assaulted by a largeish fifty year old lady who worked in the medical field, was battling with her landlord over rats in her apartment and the mites they carried with them and finally that "she was definately not the kind of woman you'd find alone, and drunk at a bar on a Monday night" with the exception of the fact that she was.
Sadly I did not get any photos of this exchange, nor did I get photographic proof of her physical assault on my person primarily because my hands were too busy keeping hers off of me. Sov had a ten spot on the bar and I really wanted another beer, but once the crazy lady moved in for a kiss, I had to do a karate arm sweep and put her back on her stool as we ran off into the darkness to find our bicycles.
Truth be told, maybe one more beer is all that it would have taken to make that kiss happen, but I kinda doubt it.
Anyway, besides being accosted by crazy aunt Cynthia Grabbyhands and having wrung out my brain in an interview with Michael Green on Monday evening, I'm coming up a might bit short on....
Oh, what's that? You hadn't heard about my interview?
Well, count yourself as one of the few because this piece is making waves and freeing slaves. The whole sorted saga can be found right here.
My god, I'm a mesmerizing individual. I see why Michael contacted me.
I know me and I even like reading about what I have to say.
Anyhow, what I was mentioning before was that I was feeling like I was coming a little short on inspiration for today because my brain is full of gunk and whiskey.
But let's see what I can squeeze out.
With the help of Roger I may be able to get the ball rolling;
"You may have already seen this.
Raced Battankill on Sat. No bummer life in sight!
Hope all is well.
Roger"
Those poor kids. I remember when I was in ninth grade and for my speech and drama class I chose to read Black Flag's 'Family Man'.
People laughed at me too, but I didn't have to swing my hair for the entire duration of my performance, so I had that going for me..
Alight, here is one from Peter that's pretty pointless, which of course is just like I like 'em;
"is that a Lemur?
Whatever it was, Im making a hat out of it.
Regards,
Peter"
I don't know what it is, but I heellllllla want one, and I never use the word 'hella' so that goes to prove how convicted I am in my desire.
Let's talk about that word for a moment, shall we? For those of you who might not know, 'hella' is Bay Area slang which is to mean alot of something, or an abundance of something- very..
"The building had hella flights of stairs, which I walked all of while wearing roller skates because the elevator was broken, and my laces were in knots. It was hella hard."
Now it should be noted that while no one should use the word much at all, anyone who chooses to use it twice in one sentence had better have a good excuse, like having to walk many flights of stars while wearing roller skates for example.
Anyway, I first heard the word in Berkeley in 1986 but being that I am an amature wordologist, I began poking around to see where the root of this hugely annoying slangjumbo (a combo of 'slang' and 'mumbo-jumbo'. See? wordology) came from. The earliest I've found this word to have been used was in Oakland in the year of 1976.
Probably by a guy in bell bottoms, a bedazzled denim vest and a leather Apple hat whose name was Rudy.
At least I hope that it was.
And while we are on the topic of words, would you like to know who taught me the F word?
Garth McJunkin, inside of the half buried tractor tire on the kindergarten playground at Wilmot elementary school, ironically also in the year 1976.
1976. The year that my English took a turn for the worser.
Ok, so dig this- The Sea Otter bicycle extravaganza took place this past weekend and for the first time in a long time, I was not there. I was happily riding my bicycle along lone and shady roads, and lazing about on the floor and watching the clouds go by. I think I actually completed a span of about 12 hours straight during which I didn't utter a word.
It felt good for my heart and my head, but I was slightly pained knowing that there was a fun thing happening and I was missing it.
Aside from the one fun thing, there was another fun thing that I missed out on as well that was in no way, shape or form associated with the Sea Otter, which of course was The Sleaze Otter.
The above photo of a few hearty souls releasing a ghost from it's box like those from the lost ark was taken by King George, who has many more to look at here.
Well alright! I took a pear shaped amount of inspiration and even made it more so.
In closing, I'm going to shine a spotlight on somebody doing something nice for someone for no reason at all. In the world of bicycle related web logs, we stick together. When I was in new York, for example, The Bike Snob met up with me to make sure I didn't fall off of my bar stool. Now if that wasn't enough to ensure his passage to Heaven, he one upped himself and helped out fallen comrade Erik K. by purchasing him a blacker than black Swobo woolie as a get well gift. Never one to miss an opportunity to take a coat tail ride, I included a note in The Snob's absence for which I sacrificed my very most coveted issue of Bicycling Magazine;
I told The Snob that I was actually in the process of buying a seat like that for my own use but then got distracted when I began punching myself in the face.
Anyway Erik, here is to you and a speedy recovery from your friends on the woolen side of the tracks.
On that note, it's Wednesday everybody. If I hadn't given my social live a Viking funeral a few weeks ago, I'd probably be out with friends on bikes with beer, but instead I'll probably be hiding in the woods watching it from a distance.
Does it feel like someone is staring at you sometimes?
That would be me.
Obviously I didn't have 'one for the weekend' on Saturday, (because I was too busy getting rad.. by myself mind you. That way there are no witnesses) but I've got one for Monday, and this is just the right kind of flavor for any day of the week..
Brilliant, sublime, poetic, and unflinching perfection.
That MacAskill has got himself some serious talent.
Not like me, but there always has to be someone to play second fiddle, you know?
Alright.. Let's play ketchup and get up to speed, shall we?
Last Wednesday wasn't so rad, but Thursday and Friday made up for it.
It feels good to feel good.
Speaking of feeling good, Dan sent on this clip about the current tea parties that are going on around this grand nation of ours. To paraphrase Jon Stewart "this is a group protesting excessive and pointless spending by purchasing millions of tea bags. Is this a protest of excessive spending or a protest of irony?"
Anyway, I say, between Santorum, tea bagging and FOX's bit about fisting, it's about time conservative politics got sexy.
Somebody had to say it, and I'm glad that it was me.
Now that we're here at the bottom of the barrel, I suppose there is nowhere to go but up.
In an email from samh;
"Stevil,
This sign - which plainly and simply defines Montana - is located in a little burg called Townsend.
Love,
samh"
'Nowhere to go but up'?
I stand corrected.
God bless Amerikuh.
In company news, our own Intern B has a photo contest going on, not to be mistaken with my personal Bummer Life photo contest (which is still in full swing, by the way) and he would like some submissions as well, and with prizes offered that are so much more amazing then the ones I'm offering, you best get shooting and while you're at it, pick out a suitable frame for your autographed photo of the intern.
He really is something to behold.
Another extraordinarily handsome individual in our ilk, CFO, emailed us with words and a clip of a hero;
"Subject: Re: oh man
Jens Voigt interview that you have probably seen....
Sometimes you can hear your body start talking to you ... 'Oh, I can't do it anymore, I can't do it anymore,' and your mind goes 'shutup body and do what I tell you' and your body is almost like ...
revolting against you and saying 'I can't do it, leave me alone, Ican't do it, I want to pull over now,' and the mind goes, and the brain goes 'no, no, no, you keep going, you keep going because I want
you to do what I tell you to do' and you know, your lungs are burning and you have the little taste of blood in your mouth and your legs are burning, and they don't want to turn around anymore and you know if someone now attacks you will be blown out of the water but you go 'no, I just keep going' and you just keep going and ... you make it happen."
I get paid to hurt other people. How good is that? How good is that?
I get paid to make other people suffer on my wheel, that's good."
I can't remember who said it, but it goes something like this- "Jens Voigt eats children."
The guy is an absolute monster.
And say what you will about Georgeous, but while we're on the subject of the people who turn themselves inside out while atop a bicycle, I'll now offer thanks to Mike for sending in this clip for an upcoming documentary that truly does look a might bit intriguing;
If given the opportunity I think I would have asked him which muppet was his favorite.
You can tell alot about an individual based on that one single question.
Sam the Eagle? This means you are a staunch American with moralistic values, never one to be deterred by the nay sayers or adversity, but generally exist in a constant state of confused delusion.
Miss Piggy? You are a strong headed individual that prides yourself on your personal appearance, loves fashionable accessories and sees no problem with the physical and psychological abuse of your much smaller boyfriend.
Scooter? You're neck deep in a Peter pan complex with little regard to the passage of time, you generally are fairly clumsy and would do just about anything for your love of Reggae and satin jackets.
Animal? You are a free spirited lover of the musical arts with a penchant for meth amphetamines.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea.
I have a feeling that Georgeous might be partial to Janice, the blond, sleepy eyed bass player in the Muppet band cause she's hot.
Moving on...
As cyclists, we all have at one time or another experienced the ire of motorists and in some cases been hit by some kind of projectile or another, whether it be spit, a beer can, eggs, a Kleenex box, or what have you. Well as much of a bummer as that can be, from this point forward, we probably should count ourselves lucky that that is all we're being hit with based on this article sent to us by our newest correspondent, Pinto.
Truth really is stranger than fiction.
While you are sitting here, compressing your mind reading my drivel, there are a few out there that are expanding their own in the world of academia. One in particular is Kevin, who wrote in to let us know how his studies were going;
"Stevil,
Good work on the site, long time reader first time caller and all that jazz. Just wanted to let you know that I just finished a paper for a class (I'm in college, avoiding the bummer life despite writing a paper at 9 on a Friday night) and it is exactly 666 words. You're the first person I thought of (after Satan of course).
xoxo,
Kevin"
Kevin, if I was your professor, regardless of what your paper was on, I would have given you an F+ and a bag of Beer Chips simply cause I like the cut of your jib, whatever the hell that means.
Now based on the number of times I've received this next bit, I would be surprised if all of you haven't been clued in as well, but despite my declaration that I was not going to broach the subject of bacon again, I feel as though I kind of have to.
It's a breakfast treat that's not only delicious but one that you can defend your right to tea party with as well.
Now for a public service announcement from Caustic;
If you like the industrial musical stylings of Grotus or perhaps Ministry, which I do not, then you might like Caustic. Regardless of the fact that I don't care for their music, it's impossible for me to argue with their line of reasoning.
During their reign of terror across Europe and the lives and well beings of millions, do you know something else that the Nazis ruined?
The Yeti's reputation;
The Yeti was later quoted as saying "I was just hanging out in the woods by myself, picking berries and stuff, and all of these sharp dressed guys with guns came up to me and asked me if I'd be willing to take a photo with them. I thought they were role playing or something so I said yes.
Little did I know that that photo would end up causing me as much grief as it did.
Hell.. One of them even stole my wallet."
Poor Yeti. A single momentary lapse of judgement resulted in a whole lifetime of scorn.
I totally feel for the guy.
On that note, here we are once again at the business end of the work week. I hope the saturday/Sunday combo was good for all of you, and like a tea bag, I'll be dipping back in with you on Wednesday.
Lastly, lots of thanks to Meligrosa for this weeks header shot. Good eye, kid.
And, naturally, there is an expensive way to dress to go along with it. So I want to know when Swobo is going to come correct with the $1995 wool blazer? You know, to ride to work in. Dammit, Parr, you've missed the boat again. But in all seriousness, there is a bit of truth in this article, and an interesting quote from George Bliss: “I use to think that car culture was the problem, but now I think it’s bike culture." "Bike Culture," that over-used droll tart of an Amerikan moniker, can definitely be a bit of an insiders club. Who hasn't felt snubbed when walking into the high-end road shop to buy a tube, maybe look for some new tires, all the while being met with the steely glare of some Cat. 4 World Champion, mocking your ride and its distinct lack of up-to-the-moment kit?
Or maybe your "scene" (barf) is over-run by 22 year-old art school hipsters on re-cycle(d) fixed gear buckets who show complete and utter disdain for your lack of top tube pad, or, your *gasp* front brake, when you meet at the stop light? Progress is definitely being made in American cities and towns, but until people learn to "just get on with it," a corollary attributed to the fine folks over at Copenhagen Cycle Chic, then it will continue to be a long road (no pun intended) before cycling is fully integrated and considered "normal." Which reminds me of a thought I had while out riding today. It would seem that the average American non-cyclist equates cycling with Lance Armstrong. Why else does his name show up in every article highlighting tensions between cyclists, other road users, or, even other park users? So when some ignoramus behind the wheel shouts "go Lance!" to me while I'm out riding and minding my business, I usually want to scoff and reply, "Yeah, but that guy's skinny." To which the assailant would probably reply: "So, that means you like the guy?" But I digress...
in a nice venue located in the back of another venerable Mpls. Institution, The Alternative Bike & Board Shop. Go on over and say "Hi!" when in the 612.
Stevil coitus-interuptussed to add this: "So, do you know whats happening in Tuscon this weekend? Besides the big party celebrating all that is me that is...
It's the Urban Assault Ride folks, and El Capitan Josh and his crew of die-hard helpers have been burning the midnight oil all year in preparation for this year's series." So there it is. If you're in, or around Tucson this weekend, you know what to do. If you see DeeJay, kick him in the groin from me, too...
In other action nooze, we'd like to just give a pre-game shout out to the following madness:
Saturday, May 9. All girl Alley Cat in Austin, TX:
Sunday, May 24th. Underpant & Heavy Cans, in PDX:
This one's down the road a piece, but Sov sez so:
Lastly, and probably most ghastly, the dishonorable Mayor of Drunkingham is returning to haunt our fair city in May. Lock up your daughters, hide your small pets:
Ok, now that that's over with, thanks for your attention to these fine matters. For the next 48 hours I suggest you recline in some fine corinthian leather. Meanwhile, I'll be over here, getting comfortable with the pain. B.I.H.
Every now and again when a lull occurs around the Swobo warehouse, and we get the opportunity to sit back and take a breather, my eyes begin to wander across the nooks and crannies of our abode. It's there that the details lie, lost in the day to day bustle. One day a few weeks ago I carried my camera around for a piece and snapped off a few shots of these overlooked items, as it's these bits of flotsam that give the day to day a sort of subconsciously recognizable flavor.
For example, this here is a frame I recently sent to Billy at Godspeed Courier;
Focusing my eyes deeper into the corners I found a few more items lurking, like bits of food nestled in amongst a mouth full of teeth;
All of that crap is truly the grease that keeps the wheels turning.
And believe it or not, but our sock drawers are immaculate.
However in these turbulent economic times we feel lucky to even have jobs, lest we would resort to more extreme means of income.
Case in point? This article sent on from Pinto;
You take work where you can find it I guess.
Well it's this time of the year when the days get longer and the nights get warmer that we begin seeing an increase in the bicycle related events, or the 'alley cat races' as some of the kids call them, begin happening with more and more frequency- two of which are coming up directly on opposing coast lines. The first being The Sleaze Otter, which is occuring simultaneously, though with no association whatsoever with the much larger bicycle event of a similar name;
Then our friends from America's skin flap have the newest incarnation of their Fixed Fight series, with the Fixed Fight 3;
We're proud to be associated with the third running of each of these events, and look forward to hearing about the carnage.
Now then.. Mail bag time? Yeah, I 'spect so.
First up, Thomas writes;
"Stevil-
I thought you might like this. My better half was going for groceries close to Christmas a few years ago. The store was advertising Santa coming soon. A bored clerk in an overnight convenience store got a bright idea. Here was the result which Jane snapped a pic of before the manager could get out to fix things."
Well bless that bored clerk's heart. If he had something better to do way back then, we wouldn't have anything to talk about here and now.
The universe works in mysterious ways.
One who goes by 'theHIP' wrote in as well, but his email was far more cheerleaderie;
"do not avoid the cheerleaders - avoid the bummer life by allowing their dulcet tones to make you an even better you.
theHIP"
Make no mistake- I don't avoid cheerleaders, though in my experience, cheerleaders tend to do what they can to avoid me.
But that reminds me of a funny story that you can read about here.
Really, I guess that story had more to do with keeping it real for the kids and less about cheerleaders, but if I had elaborated any further, I would most likely have ended up on some national perv registry or another.
Would you like another bit of news about keeping it real for the kids?
Of course you would.
Jonson writes;
Hey there Stevil,
I live out in Fort Collins CO and have been following your blog for a while. A couple of my friends out here are preparing to ride across America and are doing so under the flagship of Invisible Children, a non-profit aimed at bettering children's education opportunities in Uganda. I figured that helping others avoid the bummer life is your thing and thats what these guys are working towards with the ride. If you had time to mention this I would really appreciate it. Biking 4 Invisible Children (dot) com
Thanks and keep on keepin' on,
Jonson
I like emails like those because it reminds me that inherently people are good.
I don't like emails like those because it reminds me that inherently I am not.
Moving on...
While the cream of the crop duked it out atop the cobbles on Sunday, and I was getting busy engaging in some fairly heated competetion as well,
the likable douchebag was off listening to the echo of banjos in the West Virginny mountains and doubling down on some two wheeled bromance;
"What happens in West Virginia will follow you home.
Brother, as bunches of skinny cyclist were suffering in the Hell of the North, a few more were pushing the limits of our machines in the West.
On Saturday certain events unfolded before us presenting challenges but these were met with enthusiasm starting with a big "where the hell are we" when we got slightly turned around on the way up that put us 2.5 hours behind meeting our group and continuing into our trip with a couple of mechanicals that would have shut down most weekends of riding. We fixed the bent derailleurs and replaced the glazed pads with the speed of a mavic natural support wheel crew.
We did get into the woods however Saturday just as it started to sprinkle but that was a
relief from the strait up rain we'd been having. Not knowing what to expect with the route we picked we ran head on into the worst/best WV had to offer in the form of hike a bike for 3.5 miles...UP!
My traveling companion and I made the turn to descend at 5pm as the 3 others pressed on. We were able to ride some but even down hill was just not smart this deep in the mountains.
We reached the fire road and rode to the trailhead where the other would be exiting hoping to run into them soon. As we were a mile into the climb on perfect double track we could hear them coming due to all the laughter like 3 school girls in a playground; Mecca found.
Later dinner was cooked and a cold night was spent on the hill overlooking The Wall, a spectacular climbing rock where we could see campers lights at its base waiting for morning.
Sunday met us with sunny clear skies, moderate temps and waffles then a new trail that turned out to be the most amazing ride any of us had ever done.
Fast, smooth, technical at times with creek/river crossing that most were ridden. 3 hours of working it hard with big smiles, beautiful sights and the total avoidance of the bummer life.
-Cary"
True, while that doesn't sound as much fun as knocking balls around Yafro's backyard, it looks like it was a pretty good time just the same.
Just so you all know, even though I wasn't hammering it out with pros, or those who train like pros, I did excuse myself for a phlegm expelling tradition that I have engaged in every Easter Sunday for as many years as I can remember and donning the traditional garb of my heros, set out to conquer some pavé;
As my second lung had passed through my lips, I returned home to get cleaned up and we were off to drink some bloody marys and watch feats of strength that only in my widest dreams would I be capable of achieving.
Though none of us were together physically, we were all together psychologically and that puts a smile on my face as I drift to sleep.
Here we are at the end of yet another episode and what a fine ride we've had.
Throw your fists in the air and belt a warrior's cry, for today is Wednesday. The day that is tailor made for erasing the drab colors of the other four, and with that, I am colored gone.
Except of course my Hunter's new jacket of powdercoat;
Complete with custom Pentabike stencil;
she's a happy little whip.
As you might imagine, I've got a back log of correspondences that have piled up in my absence so we might as well get cracking on that stuff now.
Jeremy wrote in letting us know that the 20 year cultural cycle has come around full swing again;
"Well Stevil,
I am up here in Seattle doing my morning regiment of avoiding the bummer life and ran across the video that will kick Hot For Teachers ass. These boys have it going on in their video death for anything but metal!
Keep avoiding the bummer life!
JK"
And with that, I'd assume that it's only a matter of time before grunge comes back around again.
Or, maybe the time is now.
Speaking of forest dwelling wood goblins, Sean from Soulcraft wrote an email boasting about his new acquisition;
"This is my sweet new welding helmet. When I close it, a little recording says, "Shut the fuck up and tack that ugly bit to that other thing".
What he neglected to mention was that with the inclusion of the new helmet, his production practices have changed so that all Soulcrafts are built out of pre-fabricated parts (of which he undoubtedly takes full credit for) and he walks around the shop blathering about his 'size 12s" alot.
Don't you worry your pretty little heads about that unpleasantness though.. It's nothing that a little bit of Unicorn Chaser can't take care of.
And as we fall ass over tea kettle down the slippery slope of unicorns and men's men, I get an email from K;
"Another year has passed and March brought much hirsuteness to our place of cubicles, keyboards and glowing screens (I like to think of work as paid time off from beer). Attached you'll find this year's award selection, including the "Best In Show" half-meter tall blue ceramic unicorn rockin' the dragon-stache;
Other awards included a mustachioed Shrek as the "Almost Famous" award;
a chromed out pillar of respect for the "Most Authoritative" mustache;
and a "Hirsuitally Excused" baby-themed frame as an honorable mention;
Keep fighting the good fight against workplace boredom and celebrate the follicles hangin' out on our upper lips.
K"
It's good to see that boredom and suicide aren't the only things taking place in cubicles these days.
Of course fits of inspiration don't only take place inside of the 3.5 walls of corporate America but out in the corrupted mean streets of DC as well, as proven by a recent correspondence from a cycle jerk;
"Stevil,
I wanted you to see my new bike cargo utility basket idea. SWOBO should get on this;"
..Everything you need can be carried in one place.
As you all might or might not know, here in the upper part of California, The Grasshopper Adventure Series is in full swing, and super honch Geoff Kabush documented his whole experience in the first event that was sent onto us most recently by the previously mentioned Agent K;
"While we might not ever be able to get "inside" Kabush's head, we can at least ride piggyback via his helmet cam footage from Old Caz Grasshopper... pretty sweet, actually;
Had I shown up there, you might have caught a glimpse of my laying in the ditch within the first 40 feet clutching my chest and reaching for a cigarette.
DP -not to be confused with D.P., who is not to be confused with DeePee, who is not to be confused with Deep sent us an email regarding competition that is ready made for folks like me;
"“This is like the bike race for the rest of us — people who like to drink a beer in the mornings.
Came across this article when google image searching for "a real man's sport.
Reminded me about your comments pertaining to Cyclocross racing in Colorado.
DP"
I am now crossing the line into the beginning of week number three with the most amazing head cold of my life, and almost a full seven days of having no hearing in my left ear because of it.
Anything short of a race to the bottle of decongestants is more than I can wrap my mind around.
However after two back to back weekends of drunken debauchery, I suppose this is, as Blacksocks pointed out recently, the price of admission.
But hey, even the most committed athletes need some time off every now and again, right?
Of course while we're on the topic of bearded douchebags, I can't neglect to mention that our friends at Stroker Ace Screen Printing have a new virtual home, and several new, can't-live-without designs, so swing by on the regular and pick up a shirt every now and again, cause unless you're me, which I'm reasonably sure you're not, you always could use a new t-shirt.
Finally, big, big ups to Boonan, but seriously man, what's up with the dangly gold thing in your left ear?
As we were sitting around wondering what the point of his final sprint was, Garcia offered that he might have simply not wanted to shard the photo op with Pozzato.
Point taken.
Whatever.... You won the Northern Hell. You can sprint wherever you go and have whatever crap in your ear you want.
To the rest of you all, we hope you had grand weekends yourselves, and here is to a rip roaring Monday.
And lastly, here is a photo of my man Magnus, taking it all,
..and me joy riding around Las Vegas somewhere (obviously quite pleased with myself) aboard the very bicycle on which he rode to victory in 2004;
Seeing as dude is like, 12 feet tall, I hadda strap blocks on the pedals so as my little legs could stretch properly, and wouldn't smash my bits on his saddle.
Anyway, my heart will be warm in the coming days for my very most favorite of the classics.
All hail The Hell of the North, and here is to a happy Friday and a happier weekend.
By the looks of things, folks in Seattle are starting to get a wee bit juiced that Spring time has arrived.
Ryan from The Bike Bloc wrote in to give us the skinny and sent us flyer after flyer..
All you gotta do is do it. Unless you don't live in or around Seattle, in which case you'll most likely be doing something else, but if we're all doing something at the same time, it's kinda like we're together, and having fun, except for when the ice cream fight happens and I'm not there and you all are, then I guess the fact that we're all not together won't be so rad anymore.
Was asked rhetorically in the gravel on gravel voice that was coming out of the hole on the front of my face.
"When Gene opened the studio?" someone offered..
"No.." I began.. "It was earlier than that.. Like when we first met.."
Then it clicked.
"If it wasn't for Gene and me becoming friends, I wouldn't know all of you people, and if I didn't know all of you people, the wheels wouldn't come off of the wagon every goddamned time I come here."
And the wheels don't just come off of the wagon, like, come detatched and roll lazily into the gutter resulting in a minor fender bender.
No sirs and maams. When the wheels come off MPLS style, it's showers of sparks and twisting of metal. There are gouges in the cement that all of the departments of transportation together cannot figure out how to fix. It's bedlam and mayhem and several other kinds of ham to boot.
The only time I watch the sun rise is when I'm in Minneapolis, and this trip wasn't a break from tradition. In a few nights I experienced it all. Art, bikes, self flagellation, shady ladies, (both totally related to one another), drinks, food, friends, a raging cold in the raging cold, and now as I sit here attempting to capture a glimpse of the magic in a written word, I am for some reason completely deaf in my left ear.
That can't be good.
Coming back from Minneapolis without exception is like coming back from war, but with fewer bullet wounds.
..You know, the physical kind.
The spiritual ones however are far, far worse.
Just for the sake of sparing you my feeble attempts at recalling the blow by blows, here is a visual voyage that will be sure to intrigue, confound and confuse, and if you were there, perhaps remind;
Firstly, after a long wait and a broken heart, Brahwir took back possession of his beloved Salsa prototype that was nicked off of the back dock some months ago.
Like I always say, good things really do happen to bad people;
Before the fan hit the pile hitting the fan, Hurl was hard at work;
Upon the counter I took note of a glossy copy of The Mountain Flyer;
Contained therein was an article that covered a topic you and I know all too well;
Along with a photo of Nat Ross being professional;
Somebody musta' dropped some Camel Cash.
Eventually it was time to go to the place where the thing was happening, and upon our fashionably late arrival, we saw this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this; (which reminds me that Minneapolis is just like Portland, but the boys are way less pretty.)
And we saw this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
Eventually at some point between 11:30 and six o'clock the following morning, Hot Carl smacked me in the face with a ton of money, providing what I like to call "the sweetest sting", while Roger takes the photo bomb to new heights;
Along the course of the evening we also saw this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
And this;
As well as what was finally estimated to be in the neighborhood of 2000 people having come through the One On One club house, but Karna stole my camera, so what you get is what you get.
As the sun came up, and went down and came up again not only was I still basking in the glow of the weekend's proceedings, but I was still basking in the glow of the same clothes I started out in as well.
Somewhere along the line this happened;
Which lead to this;
Which ultimately lead to this;
Which was followed by this; (However at this point in the adventure, I was headed one million miles an hour towards a shower and a nap.)
And as bleary eyed goodbyes were made, I think this happened;
I have other memories that are fractured as well. One in particular was the Overfiller's two year old running out to me in the morning wearing no pants and holding a piece of toilet paper. "What do you want me to do with this?" I asked him.
"Wipe me!" he blurted back, sending Catboxxx to the floor in hysterics.
There is something about being good old uncle Stevil- the one who doesn't particularly hold a profound affinity for the little ones that always, and I do mean without exception, draws them to me like moths to a grumpy and apathetic flame.
Anyway, as per the usual, here I am back in the land of the living with all of the technological advances at my disposal making an adamant attempt at recounting the bomb blast that was my previous weekend. Whether it be past Fall Fests, Single Speed Worlds, Single Speed Cross Worlds, or any other event brimming with the debauchery, I would think that either I should have learned my lesson by now and given up entirely on reporting the stories, or at the very least honed my skills at sorting it all out, and re-telling the tale, neither of which obviously have occurred.
In a perfect world you all will make it out to one or even all of these events and save me the trouble of trying to explain away the saga.
It's time to go lie down now and rest up for the next one, whatever that is, and here is to hoping that you can be there with me when it happens.
And in that event, I'll go ahead and ask now for a phone call to fill me in, cause from where I sit, it's all just a blur.
Lastly, for the foot soldiers on the Front Range who dare to care, please note that this coming weekend another Art Crank show is happening in Denver.
Make me proud and pick up where those of us in Minneapolis left off.
It's nice to be back in your presence-
Over and out,
Also, it's come to my attention that Princeton Tec's photo contest is just about up, and if you'd like to see just what kind of competition you're up against, take a look at their Flickr page, and then be all "meh.. I've got nothing to worry about cause I took a shot that's way radder than any of those";
But instead of bundles of recyclables, he would have lights all over his bike, cause that's the point of the contest.
While engaging in some 'me time' recently (that is to say while locked in a coffin, staring at 66.6 miles of highway before me) I began reflecting on a conversation that my better half and I had a few weeks ago during which she was lamenting her lack of free time, and because of that, her fear of an imminent loss of self. It's true, she is one of the hardest working individuals I know, spreading herself impossibly thin with a present schedule of four individual jobs. Attempting to figure out how she might maximize her sorely lacking free time is what we were trying to accomplish, and is what was at the root of my ponderings.
She also related a conversation that she had had with a mutual friend, during which she explained that one of the things she likes about me and feels to be one of my greatest strengths, and ironically one of my greatest weaknesses is that I am wholly committed to having fun.
This has been bouncing around in my head for days. The long and the short of it is that we all have to commit to working jobs, which takes up a ridiculous amount of our waking hours, so with what little free time is left over, I don't see any need whatsoever to occupy the remaining time doing something that isn't awesome. The trick is to link those little blocks together and pack as much goodness into them as you possibly can. Wasting time is simply not an option.
The down side of course is that going to extended family member's weddings, visiting in-laws, and various other types of activities that one has to do for the sake of love sometimes ends up bringing a big, fat black cloud in over my head, which generally can result in an unhappy time at home.
But back to the point- like most folks, I am luckily on a Monday through Friday schedule, so the Saturday-Sunday block is generally utilized for just such a non-time wasting, packed full of goodness type of excursion, and with the exception of an epic booze funk that I fell into in the wee hours of Monday morning, I'd like to think I wrung the hell out of the 48 hour window that was provided to me this past weekend.
Saturday was a crystal clear day with temperatures that hovered around the high 70s and provided me with a back drop for one of my very favorite East Bay road loops;
As I rolled along without a care in the world, I smiled knowing Mount Diablo was looking over me;
And I got lost in my very own wooded hollow;
Post ride, I swung by and saw my favorite bike mechanics, (who had the standard sound track of Zappa playing in the background) and was treated to a rare unveiling of the shop's extraordinarily top secret 'tool' of choice;
After having a few laughs and catching up for a piece, I then stopped by to see my friends at presumably the only tattoo shop in existence that won't bat an eye when you happen to walk in wearing stretchy pants and tap shoes.
The remainder of the day was spent wandering around aimlessly, taking in sights and sounds and generally reminiscing to myself about my years spent lollygagging in the streets of the East Bay.
Sunday was a new day with a promise for new adventures, and my plan to finally make it to The Soil Saloon got derailed with TinaB, JMac, and slot cars;
After getting my ass handed to me by J, we adjourned to the bar that had a mural of either Ronald Reagan or Sean Penn mimicking Johnny Cash;
Always ones to appreciate high art, we eventually made our way to Tina and J's pad to behold their new acquisition;
You know, being an alumni of a prestigious art school, I am aware that the only true measure of what is and what is not art is if said piece can hold a peanut;
Passing my 'peanut test' with flying colors, I happily announced that the sculpture did indeed cut the mustard.
Then, as any self respecting grown up does when engaged in the sport of time killing, we put a pink net thing on our heads, and tried on TinaB's glasses;
However all of this was just the warm up for the weekend's main event, which was the long anticipated Red Fang show. After keeping abreast of the tour's highs and lows on their blog, I thought it only right to come bearing gifts. For all of the fellows in the band I brought t-shirts, but as it's generally known, the band always get the spoils, and the roadie is left to clean up the mess, so for Coyle, I brought one of my very most prized possessions;
To say that Red Fang completely tore the roof off of the bar would be an understatement;
and to say that I got epicly banjaxed would make that first understatement seem like child's jibberish. I'm reasonably certain that a little alarm went off in Jack Daniel's home alerting him to the fact that his whisky supplies were mysteriously, suddenly, and dangerously low.
A funny thing about the grain... It can devolve a grown man to a blathering puddle in the blink of an eye, and all of that previously mentioned rant about maximizing free time? My free time on Sunday night was so maximized that I hardly even remember it. Thank god I have as qualified a team of baby sitters as I do, or I might have really gotten into trouble, but I saw this one coming on the horizon.
I was like an overworked Japanese businessman who finally saw the light at the end of the Karaoke bar, and went out in a blaze of glory.
However every now and again, I don't feel as though that's a tremendously bad thing to do for your soul, though I doubt the little brown haired girl who was irately yelling at me and waving her finger in my face for disturbing her and her friend's rock and roll experience would be inclined to agree, and like Loudass pointed out, "those ladies take ironic metal like Boulder takes 'cross."
My bummer life? Totally avoided.
Theirs? Not so much.
So enough about me, and my swolen liver.. How about we get into a little bit of mail bag?
Ben wrote in to let us know the devil is far cuter than any of us could have guessed.;
"Hey there Stevil,
Long time listener, first time caller.
This weekend saw the Sevens, which is basically the world series of professional rugby, descend on Hong Kong. Generally speaking, stadium sports are not my preferred means of bummer avoidance, but the Sevens are reputed to be one of the biggest public parties to sully the reputation of this city, so I decided to tag along for the general bro down atmosphere and the people watching opportunities that come with it.
It's a good thing I did, cause I finally got the chance to meet Satan, who is apparently moonlighting as a young Asian woman who sells pitchers of beer at sporting events!
Take it sleazy,
Ben"
Ben, sleazy is the only way I know how to take it.
This past weekend also saw the annual Milwaukee Messenger Invitational ho-down get thrown down, and Zito sent us a single photo that's worth several thousands of words;
"Somehow, through the haze I actually managed to get all three of the COG boys in the same shot! Kevin of course sporting the Champion belt.
-- Z"
Kevin's making the new adition to his family very proud, but I'd watch how fast I sat down while wearing that thing, or else the promise of making any other additions to his family might be a thing of the past.
Another one who always maximizes the free time that's available is George who wrote in with an update;
"hey cupcake,
I went to fruita to camp at 18 rd the other week and to meet up with the Road34 kooks who were enjoying spring break.
We set camp, got out the 70cc motor assisted tandem, put a niterider light on it and were set to rally. and as with all good things, they must come to an end, quickly. A drunken Will piloted the stoker right into a branch that resulted in a lovely trip to the fruita ER where the stoker, Sean, picked up 8 staples, but like any man among men, he endured and lived another day.
The next day we rode the lunch loops over in grand junction and followed it up with another visit to the best thai restaurant on the western slope of great old colorado.
a successful thursday- friday combo was had!
I also found out that my new/used soulcraft hat may have been used as a shit strainer for some poor dog that ate some keys- so i got that going for me, which is nice!
Happy Hump day eve,
g"
It's always nice to hear from George, but I think it's high time he wiped the Vaseline from his camera lense.
Lastly, in regards to the book reviews I posted recently, I got an email from Colin who took a very slight exception to the fact that when linking the books, I included information from Amazon;
"Dear Stevil/Swobo,
I just wanted to bring some attention to a website called Indie Bound, which has a tool that allows folks to find a local independent bookseller in their neighborhood. I am inspired to send this along after reading the review of The Gift of Fear and clicking on the included link to Amazon. After seeing the beloved Parkway Theatre in Oakland close this weekend, it seems like we all so often give too little too late in supporting these local business. Maybe passing along this link instead will help:
This is a good bit of information, and as I replied to Colin, since the books themselves didn't have websites, I figured that including an Amazon link would be the next best thing, and I also stated that I generally assume that the folks who spend their time here on The Bummer Life know what's what in regards to patronizing independently run businesses.
Read about it on Amazon, and then buy it at your LBS.
Like the sticker that I haven't made yet says- "support your independent everything."
Alright... I'm going to go ahead and put you all out of your misery and pull the chord on this one.
I've had to type this whole thing with one eye closed, and if it has been half as tedious for you to read as it has been for me to write, then I can hear a collective sigh of thanks.
Before I go however, I should mention that I'll be away from here till next Wednesday, the 8th.
That is unless Pinto lets me on his computer, then I'll post a photo of him in his Spidey suit or something.
On a more serious note, on the 15th of this month I will be leaving Swobo for good and embarking on my own venture with two other individuals formerly of Ringlé bicycle components. There are whispers on the wind that single speed mountain biking as well as fixed gear bikes are set to make a profound impact on the market, and we are planning to launch a line of parts that we've been working on as soon as the beginning of May.
It is with a heavy heart that I take my leave, because as all of you know, Swobo has played an integral part in my life ever since I was a lowly bike messenger and they first took me under their wing, but I plan on making return trips here from time to time if they'll have me.
I don't like long drawn out goodbyes, so I'll just leave with a thank you, and a 'see you around the block'.
But for now anyway, it's Wednesday. You know what to do.
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