knowledge of self

The whole internets is full of bickerings. Rumorings, regurgitatings, petty battlings, humorless commentatings, and me tooings?

No thanks.



Recent discussions various places regarding brakes...make me say that to say this: Your results may vary. People say cantilevers "don't work". I say, " Wha?!?" A cross bike is not a downhill bike/loaded tourretser/etc. Cantis work great to scrub speed. I scrubbed some today on my very own sweet riding cross bike, AND on trails I'd been riding on different but equal bikes with disc brakes and/or varying degrees of suspension.

You ride what you ride, and I'll ride what I ride...and parts is parts. To say some shit like "cantis don't work" is running your mouth to spend your credibility, when you should try paying attention. Same old same old. My tyre is better than your tyre. My dad can beat up your dad.

For what?

Road bikes are fucking awesome. Light and zippy. Disc brakes may work, but...why? Why not keep it light and zippy? Caliper brakes work great for that application. No problems, yes fun.

When I'm riding quickly, I want the lightweight quickness suited to my rider weight. When I'm riding loaded (touring/barhopping) I want the heavy, heavy monster stuff.




Other places, folks are squawking about too many lumens? WTF? If you wanna ride your skinny tired loaded bike (but do it sober?) slow as hell along a gentle 2 track with nothing but a 3LED headlamp, then have at it. Do your thang. I know I've done that many times- always in the name of running what (when anything) I brung, but. Don't think for a minute that your experience defines the thing, cuz other folks aren't squawking- they are simply getting rad. I like to ride ripping singletrack with no damn lights at all when conditions are perfect. I like to ride ripping singletrack with lots of light when conditions are perfect.



Too much computer not enough bike makes for just the right amount of shut up and ride, armchair coaches. Dang.

something good happened one time

THIS JUST IN.



The cessation of MST based hostilities on our kick ass backyard trails is unlooked for goodness. And that's the best kind.

Fort Ord trails for all my friends!

I'm allergic to fake bitches

and to all this pollen painting the town yellow. It's as though the backs of my eyes are made of sawdust and my nose is running nonstop. I'm blinking and sneezing my way through Global Warming 2012.

Speaking of, it was a day for trail maintenance on the dirt commute way to work. All those slappy branches on the HWY sneak? Gone. I do need to get a pair of loppers and get after the poison oak while it's leafless and vulnerable, though.


The perfectly sized Revelate Frame Bag (available through your local bike shop!) holds a full size scabbarded pull saw perfectly. Like you'd hope it would.


Recent experience with largeish timber cutting has done changed my outlook on what is/not able to be tackled. It was that one, plus another 2 the same size, and that larger deadfall. I need to get a bigger boat to tackle the 18" snag. Anyhow, the trail is speedier for the work and I enjoy doing it.

Can you spot the difference?



Also, there was a note on the stump at the end of the HWY1 sneak, written in pencil on pink paper, directing Donny to call Walt. The trail had been blocked and the pencil end shattered under what I can only assume was Walt's forceful writing...

Is Donny the creeper who lives (stealthily, I add) off that trail? Who left the note? Surely it was Walt? Was Walt upset? Why? Has Donny blown it? Is something?

worth all the pain, effort, and struggling

Mammals are weirdos.

People are mammals.

People might ask you things. To wit: when was the last time you laid down on your top tube and just hung on? Or: at what point did you decide to cuddle up with the stem and hold your face right next to it as the wind rushed up to blur your vision?

I hope your answer would be "Recently!"


Oh me? I'm the lollipop man, alias the long haired sucker, and I answer "Yesterday, Today, and hopefully Tomorrow."




This whole Talking Heads Rome 1980 series is too much for words. Word.



I'm homing in on the psi requirements for the fat bike. No pictures for you, but imagine a big, squitchy tire. I had to laugh rumbling over the roots and stones in the maritime chaparral. Rumor has it you all will need one of these next Winter in conjunction with a snow covered _____ ___ Overnight. That is all.

proceeding apace

Things are tough all over. Blown out G springs, aluminum ferrules oxidized to barrel adjusters, unobtainable Sturmey Archer cable ends, missed deadlines. Traffic is insane down here cuz of the big golf show. Sitting in an idling car surrounded by other folks in idling cars makes me crazy. Part of it is the lack of consideration or attention shown by other drivers- for instance, if the "lady" in front of me at that one intersection would just pull up the car length she left in front of her, another car (at least) could get through the light. Funny how none of that stuff affects me when I'm gadding about on a bike.

Relatedly, we rode those commuter trails under the real night after the full moon moonlight and it was dappled perfection. The NeckRomancer excels at rolling around half in the bag on barely visible singletrack. Suits me.

A straight line exists between me and the good thing. I have seen that line and it's direction is known to me.

shocking revelations!

Are you picking up now?



The fatty fatty boom boom continues with a warp and a gangsta lean. I still got to get a handle on the tire pressure. There is some bucking going on. Apparently my Traction is louder than a bomb. Details are for closers, but I will reveal that 'neath Saturday's moon I pulled the valve core out of the front tube when attempting, trail side, the complicated technical procedure known as "drinking beers and _ucking with your set-up." Whoa. I got to get (at least 1) a spare giganto-tube. I was thinking about that today on a long steep climb to nowhere- what would I do if I couldn't patch? Or, if you want purely hypothetical, booze caused me to not only pull the valve core out (well, it was firmly threaded into the cap...) and then lose it? I figured I'd stuff whatever tube I have in my repair sack in there along with a whole lot of matter. I thought it would prolly be like 2 random tubes, and ever decreasing diameters of brush/grass. It would have been fine...



And, plus it occurs to me that one of these Full Moon's when it's a wee bit balmier, we are riding ~40miles South on HWY1 to Esalen and hitting the ludicrously timed Public Soak hours of 1am-3am. Then we can crash nearby and take our well placed vehicle back in the daylight.

Who wants to drive SAG?

a bird in the hand

came in the mail.



I sent you a picture.

I was counting on this for Saturday Night's Bike Fever Bike Feverr. Test rode it today on the short dirt route to work.
Whoa.
I gotta get this tyre pressure figured out. The road sections were compromised like you'd expect (slow, boundy), but it's not a bummer. I suspect that road sections of much more length would shift the balance into notsoworthitivity. I will, of course, put this to the test. The dirt sections were fun. I have no idea how to tune the psi yet, and that must be the key. That much was apparent on the short dirt demo rides. As it stood, there is a lot of...deviation to the ride. Off camber of any significance was very strange. I dropped the pressure from what I assumed was proper for road to what I assumed would be proper for dirt descending (and those are actual measurements) and the wind up was so pronounced I began to just push the end of the bar down until I felt the tyre warp finish and then I leaned into the carve. It was very inexact. I'd hoped for a more straight across swap for full squish. Maybe not so much. We'll see. It's only clown fun, after all. Tuba music for all my friends!

Singletrack commute. Morning and night.

I had a fine time up in the moonlight all by me onesie, climbing that singletrack. Lots of times when in the woods with other folks I wish more of them would be quiet more often and let the sounds of the woods at night be the soundtrack. On the other hand, tucked in alone under the canopy with trees everywhere it gets spooky. I took the shortest long way home, trying the planned route for tomorrow. Conditions are perfect.



Be thankful you're living. Drink up and go home.