primeval jungle plantings

Same, same, different. Did some work (turning down custom warshers, finishing dropout clamp areas, reaming, tapping, reaming, tapping, tapping, tapping) this week learning to use the mill and the lathe in Santa Cruz (or is that Capitola right there? I get all your little important divisions mixed up). That's right, you heard right, I am learning me some small steps towards using machines that make the bicycles. Some time this winter I expect to step up to the torch and wreck a bunch of stuff.



Mr. Myagi (my personal Pat Morita) refuses to do mystic ish like sending me to fetch a sprig of poison oak from Santa Rosalia, but he is all to happy to assign the wax on wax off work that is slowly and secretly turning me into your worst nightmare: me in the middle of your little group ride on a matchine of my own devising. You know the second one I make will be a mixte. Don't kid yourself.

All's I can say is: fuck yeah. Maybe it's cuz I'm such a noob at this, but perhaps it's just cuz it is so freaking cool to make bike. Whatevah. I'm well stoked.

And in the meantime, I try to hawk one. I try to hawk one, in the meantime. Taking a break in the middle of your day to go and ride the sweet singletrack is well advised; particularly when staring down the barrel of a big rain. I will say that it is getting pret-ty mucky under the redwoods. I hadda do the right thing and get off that one trail and head back to the dryish fireroad for the up. I also had to give in to the Dark Side and ride down that serpentine and most perfectly pitched singletrack on the down.

Perhaps it is time to consider Fort Ord, and it's excellent drainage characteristics. Home trails are coming into season right now. And on that note, the Full Wolf Moon is coming at you on a fast lope. Saturday (hear the sound of obligation dogs calling, you have to go if it's a weekend night) the 30th. Lift your leg and mark your calendar.




And, plus apropos of the type of riding one will do under the Full Moon (i.e. super tanked) I have had a little wake up call of my very own. I was riding that one local loop last week when I stopped at the stopping place and took off my helmet and had a beer and made a few calls and such. I then picked up my helmet from it's hanging spot on the log and put it on. It was very cold and wet, like your helmet gets when it's all sweated up and you foolishly take it off and allow the sweat-filled pads to lose body heat. Yuck. I turned to get on my bike. And there on the handlebars was the helmet I had been wearing on that ride. I had left the log helmet on the log days before, and had enough to drink on my mind that I didn't notice I rode off helmetless. Not as crazy as it might be, as I ride helmetless often enough (suck on that, safety advocates) that the sensation is not unfamiliar, but not as copacetic as it might be either. Time to reign meself in some.

Words to live by, bicthes. I hope you are well.