you can fool some people sometimes

Have you heard the Good News? No news is Good News. No news is Good News.

So you and I are among those left behind. This is really getting awkward! The Number of the Beast is revealed to be mistakenly translated; it should read 616 (nobody tell the gays, lest they start ruining marriage for the rest of us). The tsunamis in Japan, et al, may just be natural disasters (though helped very much by our energy-use-caused and escalating climate change). Peak Oil is reached (? Learning to bowhunt is fast becoming a real inneresting idea). Lance's spoonful of sugar is going down (in the most painful way-Tyler is a slow tic trainwreck).


I try to keep it light. Try to keep everbody focused on what we have here in common. Is that right?



We went to Tulsa, OK, to party at my brother's wedding instead of waiting around for the hypocralypse...but Bible-thumping relatives dragged ol' JC into it anyways. I just kept quiet, because it's not worth disturbing the party-in spite of those folks themselves oughtening to know better. In their very own writings straight from God but delivered via human hands (so you know it's True, to say nothing of accurate) it says nobody knows the day or hour...so I say let's party instead of pray. I mostly keep quiet on the doping-in-cycling issues because it's a downer that has been the elephant in the peloton since the 1930's (at minimum) and, frankly, what good does fixating on PRO sports do any of us out here in the gutters and on the trails? About as much as forecasting the End of The Party. I say: let's party Smarter in order to Party Longer.

Rode a swell loop up there in Santa Cruz today...all shady dirt with swooping singletrack and tight Redwoods.

Who's up for a Ride tomorrow? No sky cake, but I hear there's Free Beer.

DANGER un________ _________s

Jingle, jingle.

According to those in the know, the clouds will be parting by 1pm in CSide! This means the Full Flower Moon will take place as scheduled.

You know the place...wherever you go, there you are.

sacrificial bonfires

Burn up the old. Ring in the new.


Velocache is a true Tournament of Champions. You- yes, you- can have your Giro, your Tour day France, and your Vuelta. Fancy stage racing puts type-A dopers on their saddles, but what puts your butt on your saddle?

Velocache could be that motivation.

It gave me a reason to ride the stiffness out of my tired legs today. Instead of sitting around inside, I braved the gathering rain clouds and sat around outside.


My sweet ride was the Black Cat cyclocross, with it's fancy new fork (for which I still owe $78.33 to Rick...), and it's fancy new brass fenders, and it's fancy new mudflaps.



I realize this is sub-prime fender season...but all these ducks have just aligned, so I'm making hay while the rain threatens.


This is the 2nd ride with these. The flaps are well proportioned and have a simple/clever stiffener in the horizontal strip which forms a curve, allowing thin flaps (and so, light flaps) to be as stiff as much thicker (and so, heavier) flaps.

I lik them. They appeal to my low brow, yet snooty, bicycle aesthetic.


I have a single nit to pick. They performed flawlessly on pave, but immediately upon hitting the singletrack downhill, the rear flap sucked up into the fender. After the 3rd suck up, I strapped the flap:


When I returned to the relative sanity of riding my drop barred skinny bike on pavement, I unstrapped the flap and it was smooooooth music. Fenders and off-road riding are a poor mix; this has been proven. Sticks, twigs, pebbles, matter- these are things that can stick between the fender and tyre and cause a axeident. So I am happy to ride these flaps with my shiny brass fenders on road rides.

Check out Tom's work. It's Good Stuff: This colored text is a link, which- if clicked upon- will take you to the Tauro site.

I TOLD you cha cha heels!

Lay off me! I hate you! ____ you, ____ you both, you awful people! You're not my parents! I hate you I hate this house I hate the interweb!






My favorite part is the mother lying under the tree crying. John Waters is a genius and he's captured just how I feel about you people.

In unrelated developments, you know that one thing I was talking about? Well I went out there, under cover of darkness, and climbed up on my bike and used a wrench and my height to my advantage. It was at least 30 solid minutes of standing on my saddle on one leg and then the other, switching hands and grunting...but I got it. Problem was, I had no means of carrying it so I did how we do and hid it in the bushes.

This was Friday evening, you understand, the day none of y'all could be bothered to ride under some moonlight. Yeah, I heard what you said. Whatever. 75% full is 100% full enough for FUN. Full stop.

Anyhow, and so, I had a go back up there today to fetch it. This is because a) the bushes are only so secure, and 2) I had a big pack into which I could stuff it. I had a big pack because it was necessary to carry all my junk for a s240 (that's computer/bike dork code for Sub24hourOvernight, where you ride out and camp real quick).



Why, yes, it did rain like hell for what seemed like all night.



Mr.S and Mr.Y went along. Because Mr. Y is a giant weenie, and hasn't ridden in a month, his "hematoma" was giving him the business to the tune of get off our bikes right in the middle of the climb and camp right then and there. This turned out to be such a disguised blessing on account of how the rain began in earnest just as we were finishing putting up tents. Really, for real, it was frantic attaching of guy lines to bikes and Manzanita in the wet. This proved to be such an undisguised bitch for me, as I dragged my tent right into a slight dip in order to anchor it.



You can guess how that went.





So, yes, I did get soaked but the bright side is that it was only on the bottom of my bag and so just that and the seat of my pants/underwear were truly sopping. And, plus, I had managed to leave my sleeping pad right on the floor at home so I saved weight and effort and got to use my jacket and empty pack for "padding"!



Literally. Right in the trail.


Orange.



Mr Y. Mr Highanddry. Mr 7lbthickashellsleepingpad. Mr. We'recampinghere.

We had been gonna ride out here:

and camp. So after parting ways with Mr. Allthosethingswhohadtogettowork, Mr S and I completed that portion of the schedule.


8:30 AM.




These are the trips that make everything worthwhile. I use them to refine gear selection, to really drive home what it is important to not forget, and to study (at length and in depth) how a solid 6 hours of torrential rain will affect my drive train. On this last, I can definitively say: it's not a good idea to rinse your chain overnight in driving rain and then to further ride it around sandy trails. Who knew? Also, a bottle of lube is a fine and potentially very necessary addition to your kit when going out for the team. Finally, a chain tool is a tool which cannot be improvised. Pack it. Every time. Dummy.


Nice girls don't wear cha cha heels. I noticed the clicking and chalked it up to a bone dry chain. At the bottom of that sweet singletrack I looked closely and saw a link coming apart. I decided to post up at the intersection and make some more coffee and see if anyone showed who was not a fool and who did have a chain tool. While waiting, I used the pocket knife/wrench combo to punch the pin back in place. This worked, but was never going to hold.

The 1st guy who blew through the turn without even glancing my way (yep. Standing there waving, next to a bike minus it's rear wheel and all.) was a road guy I recognized. This behavior seems in keeping with what I have seen from him in the past. He had headphones on, and did not hear me hollering until I upped the volume significantly. No chain tool. Then his buddy rolled up, also wearing headphones, and also without a chain tool. The guy in third was devoid as well.

The next crew to come by was some guys in Yellow Jackets of Authority; one of whom had a bar bag full of empty candy wrappers, one guy had his helmet at a jaunty angle, but the 3rd had a chain tool! He swung off his mighty hybrid, lowered the kickstand with a firm snap, and came to my rescue. Sweet, sweet chain tool.

Done. More riding up and up and then back and across. I thought about taking the road back in and babying the chain, but the trails were just too inviting. Ran into Old T___, and rolled around with him, back through CSide(!), got some lube from Joselyn's (what a difference) and then back to part ways at Huckleberry. What a glorious day.

Little trips like this are The Way. To be prepared for larger adventures when they come calling. To get some little adventures in your day to day.


Not on Christmas. Not on Christmas.

all ____s indicate

To whom it may concern,

Sir or Madam, I think it fair to say that indicating a "link" through the use of differently colored text than the main body of a "post" is common practice in this time of interwebs. Is this not true?

In keeping with the commonality of such practices, is it unreasonable to- if not expect, then certainly at minimum- anticipate a modicum of interaction vis a vis the usage of such links?
Occasionally?
When they are germane?
And, further, is it truly too much to anticipate a real and unfaltering Love of the Bicycle (and, almost necessarily, also the trappings/rituals/history of the Bicycle) would engender the passive reader to scour, to digest, and to respond?

I think not.

I will now entertain your responses to the Question. To wit: how does this affect you?

Thank you,
The Management.


To make a point of declaring friendship is to cheapen it. For men’s emotions are very rarely put into words successfully.

— Hunter S. Thompson

dark shadows of Evil trapped in a web of witchcraft

Nobody?!

Not one of y'all can be bothered to click on/examine the link and come back here with sumfing to say? Nobody.

You knuckleheads need to quit phoning it in. Rep your sets, yo.






Whatevah. I do what I want. I rode my SS again today; someplace you were not. And it was some kind of long assed pave climb followed by hello tight fire road cruising and capped off with the benchest of singletracks overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Side hill for days. Large feeling in scope. Though the vividly purple irises seemed incongruously domestic, it is some big country.

I need to remember that it is possible to swap out my cog and not only to run what I brung lowland roller gearing. And I need a new rear tyre. Anyhow, Feelings are set to GOOD.

Permit me to expound. Climbing on the SS is a matter of making as much peace with the hill as you may. Spin and spin and spin and be nice.
"Until it's time to not be nice."
When it is that time, you must stand and giver. There is nothing but momentum. When there is no momentum, there is the walking. Back country singlespeeds is where it's at.


Come Summer Solstice, you better pack a lunch...

I'll always regret the day I joined

(skip to 1:25 in to skip the talky talk)


As I was looking at this flock of bicycles this morning, trying to settle on one, the singlespeed revealed itself to be that One. It's been awhile since I took it out. Cycles, cycles. Some bike or other has been calling me recently.





1stly- it's so light! And responsive! And punishing! And automatic. No thought, just pedal. I like that.

Climbing was well handled. Legs are feeling Good. Ribs are feeling good (little bit of pull; minor not major). With a drop in tyre pressure, downhills were in the bag. Up the hill to dirt (you know that one power line easement I been squawking about? It's a no go- straight down to a Poison Oak filled drainage...oh well, time to try that other one), across, down, up another side, and an extra woods loop for kicks.



This is why oaks are Mighty. Every limb on it has dropped, but here it is Spring and damned if it's not giving it another GO.





At home, this package had arrived:


Good on you, H___.




In addition to some oddball taffy on which my kids are now hooked, and aside from the mummified jumping spider, it contained the repair parts for the shelved B17. The Standard Titanium Tension Shackle and the 60mmTension Pin & Nut Assembly.


Sucks to your carbon fibre rails, kids.




That this saddle is repairable sits well with me. The nut did not sit well in the shackle at first.





So I took the flat file to it...






though it took the rat tail file to really do the necessary.






All flush and moving into position.






The notches sit up under the (riveted on Titanium!) nose. Also, note the mummified jumping spider in the mysterious box which we shall examine another day. Yes, that is the photo.





Threading the Tension Bolt.







Flush. Ready to insert into the (Titanium!) nose cone...








I put another nut on the bolt end, and levered it into position in the nose in order to back out the bolt and begin tensioning the leather.







Done.







Yep. That there is a perfectly repaired (and repairable!) saddle. Put that in your weight weenie and smoke it. Please also note the large, hammered rivets. If you are thinking about a Brooks, I recommend these on whatever version suits your posterior. The small rivets tear through the leather much more readily. True fact.






What else?