hero worship is not a productive pastime

What? You scared? Slouchy, hungover and aching is no way to go through life, son.

There are certain protocols, specificities of etiquette. Niceties, if you will, which it were better to observe. Consider: say you are riding with nameless "friends", in the woods, in the dark, and you get separated. Established behavioral norms cemented in place to a diamond hardness and sheen by millenia of Fine Upstanding Tradition and reasoned discourse and a consensus of mutual benefaction plus Goodwill to All and to All a Good Night has it that you stop. You assess. You maybe hoot the International Distress Call* (whatever your local and- hopefully- recognized variant may be). You listen. You maybe hoot again. Bearing in mind that you might be in a er situation that could be construed by the narrow minded as technically "off limits" or somesuch. ____ing, etc.

If your party fails (and I use the word lightly. Gently. Tough lovingly.) to show then Logic, Reason and Experience dictate that you retrace your pedal strokes back to the last intersection at which all were present. Simple as that.

But. In the real world, folks get tugged along by circumstance and shit goes wrong. That has been my experience, anyways. Last night I dropped that short, steep doubletrack to the 3 way and hooked a left. The left is the direction we'd discussed taking twice, and it is the flowier option. Straight up the middle there is singletrack, yes, but it climbs and is no joke right away and goes another way and stuff. The right is not worth considering. The drop, the way we'd come- well, it is a reverse and all.

So. Like I say, I railed that sweet assed descent and flowed like water along the further and delicious descent around several corners to the correct singletrack and pulled up to wait for my faceless associates. It being a dark night, and us being in flagrante delicto, (best Latin phrase of all time?)  I shut my lights down and stood around wondering what might be the case as I was all of a sudden alone. I waited. I hooted. I reckoned La__y and Cu_ly had to be back at the 3 way doing something, and rode back up to see.

That 3 way was black and empty. I repeated the lights-off and the hooting and the listening. Nothing. 3 possible routes, with 1 of them being unlikely. Eventually (minutes), I walked up the middle trail because it was most likely to my mind, and sure enough- there was a tire mark. So I walked back down and got on the bike to pursue. Up and up steeply. Hooting. Listening. Across, around, under, over and up again steeply. At that one meadow I stopped and hooted. Shut my lights down- batteries wear down quick!

I heard a voice. "Take the wrong trail?" Man, did that tear it for me.

"No. I took the right trail." Then I made some remark about them not hearing me or hooting themselves or seeing my lights, etc. This was rebuffed. I asked, hotly- it's true- why they didn't head back to the 3 way, as is to be expected. This was rebuffed.

I really popped a wheelie. There was a yelly confrontational lecture. I was told to drink a beer and to lighten up and eventually to shut the fuck up- all of which were good advice. I stated that I would be willing to part ways on a semi-permanent basis. I was less than polite. I may have actually sputtered like a wet hen.

So not one of my finer moments. It was brought to my attention that "it's not Antarctica" and that there really were no serious consequences that had arisen, which are true. I acknowledged that I had gotten overbearing, and they are not my kids... after a while. What got me and kept getting me was that Subject M would not acknowledge any responsibility nor proper procedures. I felt that I am entitled (oops! that can't be good...) to a certain amount of Respect and that that amount of Respect was not being given. I think that's probably the real issue. REspect due.Yes I.

It is easy to seem reasonable and in the right here on screen. Who doesn't want to seem the good guy? Do any of us see ourselfs clearly, without the fog of our self-perceptive beer goggles? I have the moral high ground ( for fucking SURE!) but is it worth holding like a grudge? Do 12 minutes alone in the dark woods warrant a total freak out? No. My reaction is disappointing to me. In the big picture, it is some small hot potatoes.

Anyhow. The whole affair is a bummer- including being introspective about it. I am happy to drop the subject now.








*Remind me to tell you the story of the international distress call in person. The hoot is very distinctive and funny.

I don't care what's new

A guy comes into the shop and says, "My bottom bracket is creaking. I'd like it fixed." Mechanic replies, "We can do that. I'll just pull it, clean it, grease it, and reinstall it." Customer says, "That won't fix it. This is the 3rd or 4th time it's had this problem."  "Well, carbon fiber is like a resonance chamber. Any small noises will be amplified." Punchline: there is no fix. That creeping creak will return and return and return.

Folks get excited by Kawasaki Green color schemes, or lightness of weight, or going to 11, etc. That's their 1st mistake. There will be others. Perhaps among them will be mistaking the equipment for the experience. That's their worst mistake.

I don't care what you ride, I care that you ride.

this is me being patient

People come in to the bike shop and they ask questions. I encourage this practice. We've all been to the shop that's too nice to talk to and, frankly, it sucks. Lots of PRO egos running around in amateur bodies. I try to be welcoming without seeming (or being) insincere. It really gets under my skin when people ask me questions and then interrupt before I can get through my answer. It's not that they see the end of the sentence coming, either- it's that they don't give a shit what I'm saying. Which is fine, but then why ask the question at all in that case?

This happened several times today, multiply and with different customers.

Also, if you are a team rider sponsored by a shop, you should come in respectfully and politely. !!You are NOT a retail customer!! You should be aware of this, and behave accordingly. Any interactions with you will be immediately dropped if a paying customer comes in. Your needs are secondary at best. You do not merit special attention, much less special treatment and I don't care even a little bit that you were "riding with Levi" the other day. Taking a bike off the sales floor for a 45minute "demo" is well past unacceptable, it is flabbergastingly beyond the pale.

Your part in the arrangement is representing the shop as a positive ambassador, hopefully contributing to the shop culture and ideally bringing more business. Your part is not to suck the staff's time and labor along with grubbing for every deal you can get while throwing around a PRO vibe that makes you look like a cunt and the shop like it supports cunts.

Furthermo- oh. Yes, please continue with what you were saying.

it's like an exercise machine, only a lot more fun

I lik to drink and smoke when I feel I should.



I lik to ride bikes when the riding looks good.



Act like you know.


Given the auto assist by Mr. S_____, it was rigid fixed dirt all day. Given the givens, it was beers at the stops.

Q: How many bushes hold easter eggs in the Ord?
A: Many.


That one's been in there a while.





Whoa. For so many reasons.






The bees have moved on. Pigeons are moving in?


Riding home in the dark.

Again. Who could ask for more?

they're not ready to accept that dream situation yet

You lik bike rides?



Here's the current situation at the end of Mudhen Express. Folks are using the trail I laid in. It's going to be allright.



You lik spy novels? Alan Furst writes the best spy novels I've ever read. Set in various corners of the WWII European theatre, but nearly always including Paris, his books are hard-boiled and romantic and well researched and fundamentally (for me anways) speak to the importance of living. Characters who are alive, not asleep, even in the face of these overwhelming doom type situations. During the Cheney/Bush administration I felt a real craziness in this country, a feverish push towards fear. Here's hoping we're done, even and particularly in light of this tragic shooting in Tucson, but Furst's novels capture that sense of imminent danger very well.
Recommendo.



Life encompasses...uh, everything. From dangerous battles between a wolverine and a couple hungry wolves to shootings on capitol steps. I'm trying to stuff mine with kickassness til the seams won't hold. They pack up pretty full, if you toss out the fear and the fever and the sleepwalking.







You could try shoving some velocache in your personal life sack. I bet it would fit.

In/Out

I told my older son, D, that he isn't a real boy after all. He is actually a rock we found at the beach. He appreciates my honesty, and is marveling at all the ways we have fooled him into thinking he is more than a simple rock. There are several seemingly illogical threads in the fabric of his story, but he is a rock so he can't expect everything to make sense.



I felt the time had come for him to face the Truth today, on an after-school bike ride. It's a nice opportunity for parents to teach their children valuable lessons.

avoiding tradition

Rode around. Checked on Velocache #32. Yep, it's still there.

it's a _______ freak out!

The more things change with the seasons...

what clothes?
It is now officially a Good Idea to carry an extra layer for staying warm during your stops to stand around in the cold with a beer in hand. Down vests are good for this. When it's off the beaten street, I'm currently riding/commuting in Filson wool bibs (and the reason for the 2 buttons at the waist on your overhauls? It is so's you can button the upper button in the lower hole and give the seat a natural pooch- so's it fits just right as you assume the riding position. No small thing, and you're welcome.) but I hope to be riding in this Tin Cloth version soon. I think it'll be a good wet weather/bushwacking option. If I had all my waxed cotton ducks lined up, I'd have sneaky ankle zippers installed so as to make them narrow/more pedal friendly. I also find that I am that much less willing to wear cycling shorts since they require shedding all layers to remove them (and to put them back on again, and plus they are damp and cold- ugh.) so I wear cut-off wool long johns. In thinking about wool, Ibex makes a fantastic liner glove which is super warm while being very light, but does wear out really quickly since it is so thin. Finally- any wool shirt is better than that smelly plasticky garbage promoted as "cycling specific" clothing. Go get yourself a nice Swobo jersey; couple it with some Dead Man's Plaid from the local thrift shop, and you're all set.


The fenders are back on. I also like the fender flaps, which for best clearance with the fat ass tyres should be mounted outside the fender. Reminder: Watch yourself in the woodsy trails with fenders- errant twigs can ruin your day quick. On the recently moustachioed LongHaulTrucker, I reversed the nominal rightness and leftness of the Tektro brake levers and angled them down slightly to allow easier access (swinging the fingers over the top).

All this helped a lot with the finding of the velocache.

Panache!

This Gustav Klimt image has been lifted from Golden Age Comic Book Stories, and is one of several stunning Klimt works he has on display today. The winter light is well captured.




The problem with the Big Dummy? Well, a problem was the cones were hella loose on the rear hub, which is why the tracking felt off. Another problem was the rear brake cable was binding. Binding. Notchy binding. Perhaps from the best camping trip ever? So there was alot of lubing today. Feets and feets of cable on that bike. And, plus the caliper (as I said) has always been in danger of getting impinged upon by a load. Sometimes it happened, and then I'd have to grumpily shift the load. Grumpily shift.


You lik how I said "happened"? Hopefully it won't ever be a issue again. This required my most honed mechanical skills: bending and forcing. I got to use the hammer and the vice.

Since this fine cargo bike was all newish and tuned, I took it out again to pick up the boy. He was enthusiastic.

Which I love. We headed straight for the mid-valley Safeway a.k.a. "the lollipop store" for a bag of Tootsie Pops to take to the woods. Secret Boys back at it. The steep hike up that hill pushing the Big Dummy whilst slip-sliding on the pine duff was exhausting. J took it in stride. I asked him to walk in front of me so I didn't crush him when I slipped and fell over backwards. He graciously obliged.

We hit the spot with the good sitting log for a sucker break and there were 2 Tecates and a Hansen's soda stashed there! Which was great, because I'd forgotten about them so they were an unlooked for bonus.


We continued our bike pushing walk.

Fancy winter light.


I was glad to reach the ridge.



We rolled up and down (a fair amount of up it felt, too) until we reached the snaky singletracks. We rallied them but good. I say it lots, but only cuz it's true: the Big Dummy handles much better with a load.

jimmy legs

Fort Ord is hella tacky right now...