guides you through uncomfortable questions...

I don't need to know everything. Neither do I want. Secret stuff stays secret if folks don't say anything about it. So the minute you start running your mouth about riding ____ ______, is exactly the minute I regret* ever having said boo. What's the first rule of any club?




Hanging out with 9 year olds has certain advantages. They are generally down for a Good Time, and I respect that. We did some "stealth" camping last week which I am sure blew up our spot- the close one- for good. The poor old gal walking her fancy dog was surprised to see hobos invading her neck of the woods, is all I'm saying. Lesson (finally?) learned- time for a new and more tucked away spot.

That picture above is the neighborhood peloton rolling deep down HWY1 to Point Lobos (where they disallow bikes on the trails, sadly...though the roads are pretty mellow it being a state park and all. And where we need to really suss out the legitimate camping opportunities really and for real) like a gaggle of tentative baby ducks. We had a nice time.



The ride is about 1/3 dirt, too. And of course, right next to the Pacific if you are into that.



I have collected some odd bits and fashioned them into a 24" rough stuff roadish bike for J. Super jerry rigged Schwinn Sprint (c.1980?), so a tank fo sho, but and hecka sweet, He rallied it down the loose seaside singletrack. 24"x1.75...it is stable as hell. He's feeling the drops out. So far so good.



Bikes. Bike rides.

Also, I finally got J____ S____, long time shop supporter, to come out and see what his AWOL can do...he got his eyes opened, and so did I as to the magicality of getting around by bike. You forget, being immersed in it, that biking for transportation and adventure are the same. He was so blown away that he's lived on the Monterey Peninsula (a real scenic place) for 20someodd years and had no idea about the routes we took, nor the ease with which we took them (no cars on trails and fireroads...).



And I keep listening to this:




because it's good.













*Regrets? I've had a few. I wished I'd a stuck to the old ways and never said anything out loud. All communication about the off-piste is handled with waggled eyebrows and jerks of the head. Then nobody is the wiser that there even is a secret much less, wonders what it might be...

Anyhow, my motto has become: I might show you, but I'll never tell you.

skull dump

1/2 a day flies by before we get serious and down to the business of piling up our camping gear. Much of it is in a dirty shambles from being used for the Grand Canyon trip, so we use more time trying to find this or that. Eventually, it is all gathered in the front of the garage and we sort things into the proper places for me to haul all the stuff for an overnight except the boys' packs. I'm taking it easy on them because, again, we are riding a fair bit to reach this week's secret camp spot.



J is a mouthy little half-wheeler, and I have to stay on him about riding within himself so as to be able to maintain. He will burn right through his energy and then get fussy if I don't. D, on the other hand, will drag this out as slowly as he is able, so he must be hustled.




I just got that bike built for him, and it's too small. Dang. I reckon I'll swap in a taller and longer stem with some swept back bars. It isn't the aggressive trail bike, after all.





 We ride. We talk (quite a bit) about traffic awareness and safety- those drivers ain't looking out for us. We talk of inconsequential things and we talk of consequential things. We talk a lot of shit.

J shows off his one-handed riding and crashes right next to me. We get him out of the road- this is why we take the sidest streets- and hang out as he collects himself. He rung his bell, but isn't hurt.





We stop for burritos. There will be no cooking. We got more pressing matters at hand. The boys have to learn the game of world domination...



Risk! When I was a boy we spent days over that board. It is still engaging, and especially so in the woods at night.




We've been keeping up pretty well with the (attempted) weekly camp outs. They don't know I'm hardening them up so they are able to go farther and farther, but that is what is happening here.

worth more than your opinion

Lots of cowboy carryings on around here. The big red S has their "dealer event" going on locally. That means they* spend an assload of $ on flying shoppe owners/manager typpes out here to test ride all the 2015 stuff, and impress upon them the importance and relevance and etc. of the new new. Until the newer new supersedes it, which is usually right about the time these retailers take delivery of the old new. Cycles of life and all, but it is some force feeding type of situations. You know what I'm saying?

I have not been asked to participate. You are free to draw your own conclusions, but I will state for the record that I, for one, have NOT spray painted "what happened to Contador's bike?" along the parade routes. I just can't be chuffed.

In other words, I taught a wheel building clinic this evening. What that means in practical terms is that I just repeated all the things Get A Job Bob taught me waaaaay back when. He had the good technique fo sho. This was deeply satisfying. A young lad, new to the game, eager to learn some old school arcana...I mean, in this time of machine-built robot wheel "systems" most folks don't even know that hand built is an option. I alternated between sips of Coors, heckling, and getting nostalgic with an emphasis on small adjustments over and over and over with stressing the wheel in between. Your momma's got brass nipples.

*WHO spends an assload of $ on flying their dealers wherever? You do. It's right there in the retail price, built in.  I just can't swallow the bitterness of considering this in-house promotional hoopla. Hype-la? Whatever, at minimum it's preaching to the cheerleaders just before you ram it right up their poop chutes. I'm sure Ned Overend wants to have me thrown out like that one time.

forced to reevaluate your goals

I figured I had this bike, the $15 complete, 1989 StumpJhumper (the J is silent I understand), just cluttering up the joint with it's horribly good looking but dissatisfyingly small and spinny 26"edness. A bike around with which it would be possible to tinker. There is a lot of talk about the new new- when is there not in the bike industry?- and it is true I do not love the 26" for myself and my style of riding.

[aside: I feel that wheel size should be chosen to best match rider size/style and that 27.5"/650b-if-you're-nasty has a valid place if you are looking to retrofit a 700c bike with a larger volume tyre for some hott action ungettable on 25mm, or maybe if you are between 5'6'' to 5'11" and are real damn particular, otherwise it is a straight punch to the hard sell and some buy-it-because-you-lack type of snake oil.]

Anyhoo, I had nothing to lose and possibly something to learn, so I ordered some rims (25mm wide Velo Orange Diagonale 32h) and some tyres (2.2' wide Maxxis Ardent front and Crossmark rear- that Crossmark hooks up like a champ, too) and away I went.

27.5" and 26" respectively, in a science shoot-off.

There used to be a stop in the drop...

which I chopped. And later cleaned up with a file.

That derailler was crapped out and got replaced.

Clearance looks good.

I thought perhaps I might retain the Paul's cantis, but nope. For kicks, I put a v-brake arm on the boss. However the tyre is so tall the cable canoe rests atop it. It is times like these that allow me to bask in the warm glow of my bike-part hoard, though....WTB Speedmaster cantis c.1995. That is OG, son. The leverage is unfortunately reduced by moving the pads so far up the arm,but it runs and don't cost nuthin.

 Booty bin almost matching King hubs?!? Yep.

I been sitting on these for a while. This seemed like the time. It's been years since I rode a King rear, and I forgot how instantaneous pawl engagement is. It is a fucking delight.





Swapped out the dirt drops.

New parts are rims, tyres, cables/housing and purple lock-on grips because obviously. It's so nice at this point, I'll trade out the poopy chainrings and BB.



 Yes, I have been riding it. It's fun. The thing I notice most is the King's snappy get-up. The less than optimal cantis feature, too. As for the real point, the wheel size; the 27.5" climbs punchy or steep well. It is a slog on the longer stuff. I notice it's zzzzzzzzzzsmallness, just like a 26", and pine for a bigger momentum. Same on the flats. It handles nicely in the tight singletrack- speaking of which, the new 49?

 Holy shit. I have to say- whoever routed that, you did a real nice job. Thank you! Seems like you were constrained (by BLM distance regs?), and there were a couple too-tight serpentine folds that I think are going to wash out, but you clearly had to dump elevation and your mandate was clearly Good Times. That's a man date I like to go on. Well routed, player. Fun up, fun down.

In the end so far, I remounted the rear baskets and threw on the porteur rack and it will be a fun townie and spare camping bike. It's fun, but not a dedicated trail bike for me. Also, I could potentially use those wheels on that old Salsa La Raza, whenever I actually get that running again.

If, for whatever reason, you got an old 26" bike you wanna swap over, it is likely doable. Even easier if using a disc specific wheelset.

That is all.

there was a man who knew how to hit bottom!

Of interest: where there's smoke there's fire, and the valley is full up from this ride cancelling Big Sur Fire. What a kick in the teeth. Ride? Modified/maybe cancelled.

And as far as lots of smoke and mirrors- here is the Sinyard "apology" if you are into such things. I will comment this far: bullshit. If this were a sincere mistake, then it were required for the big red S to retroactively unfuck the other little people they've legalistically ramrodded. Closest to my heart being Revelate Designs, nee Epic Bags, one dude in Alaska making bags in his garage who (as far as I can tell) started the frame-bag phenomenon. And it is a phenomenon. And if Sinyard actually cared, he'd cease and desist the corporate Grinchyness. Stink, Stank, Stunk.


And, if you have the issues with the hip:

He's using a lacrosse ball, and I'd recommend (starting, anyways) using a tennis ball as it is softer and easier on your tender beginner self. You can roll over onto the affected side and weight the ball further around to the front into your Tensor Fasciae Latae muscle also. Play with it, noticing the tender spots and focus on them. It gets easier and less painful with repetition. Get a foam roller and roll that IT band and Vastus Lateralis. Or else.

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.