Le Tour de PANTS

Seven pair of pants/skirts/shorts/etc. A digital camera. A bike. And seven public locations.

I'm stoked for this Sunday. Races = fun. Taking off pants = fun. Bike race + taking off pants = super-fun. Am I gay if the thing I'm most concerned with is having an awesome pair of underpants on?

Kurtz, Jay, and Thomas dropped by Sunday and told me to grab my bike. I rushed out of the house, onto the ferry, and had a blast running around Norfolk picking out the locations we'd use as checkpoints. I haven't really ridden in like over a month. My legs remembered what to do while my mind was watching it like it was new.

Pics and stuff to come, fer sure. Come on out!

- David

These Kids Is Harder Than I'll Ever Be *EDIT*

*EDIT* All these pics are broken for some reason right now. It's dumb. You can still click them to see the pic though. Sorry!

From Shorpy.com:
Raymond Bykes, Western Union No. 23, Norfolk Va. Said he was fourteen. Works until after one a.m. every night. He is precocious and not a little "tough." Has been here at this office for only three months, but he already knows the Red Light District thoroughly and goes there constantly. He told me he often sleeps down at the Bay Line boat docks all night. Several times I saw his mother hanging around the office, but she seemed more concerned about getting his pay envelope than anything else.

It's so crazy for me to live in a place that has history. Out in the West we had only a little. I know it's only been two years but I feel thoroughly transplanted here. You can only be a native of one place, but my little portion of Virginia has permeated me so much that it feels like I'm from here.

From Shorpy.com:
Waco, Texas. September 1913. "Messenger boy working for Mackay Telegraph Company. Said fifteen years old. Exposed to Red Light dangers."

From Shorpy.com:
Dallas, October 1913. "Messenger boy in the heart of the Reservation (Red Light). Prostitutes run back and forth. Business beginning at mid-day. I saw messenger boys and delivery boys for drug stores from 15 years upward. Some still younger told me that they go there. This was in spite of a strong agitation being waged to close up the resorts."

From Shorpy.com:
November 1913. Shreveport, Louisiana. "Fourteen-year-old Messenger #2 for Western Union. Says he goes to the Red Light district all the time."

From Shorpy.com:
Nashville, November 1910. "George Christopher, Postal Telegraph messenger #7, fourteen years old. Been at it over three years. Does not work nights."

From Shorpy.com:
Houston, October 1913. Marion Davis, Messenger #21 for Bellevue Messenger Service. Fourteen years old. "Been messenger, off and on, for two years. Not supposed to go to the Reservation [Red Light] under sixteen years, but I do just the same. The boss don't care and the cops don't stop me."

Fuck yeah, kid. Fuck yeah.

From Shorpy.com:
Houston, October 1913. "Eleven-year-old Western Union messenger #51. J.T. Marshall. Been day boy here for five months. Goes to Red Light district some and knows some of the girls."

From Shorpy.com:
Houston, Texas. October 1913. "Fourteen-year-old Western Union Messenger #43. Works until 10:30 p.m. Goes to Reservation [red light district] some."

From Shorpy.com:
October 1913. Houston, Texas. "Jeff Miller. A young delivery boy for Magnolia Pharmacy. This is especially bad for him as he has recently returned from the Seabrook Reform School where he had spent a year. He would not tell me why he was sent there."

From Shorpy.com:
October 1913. Houston, Texas. Curtin Hines. Western Union messenger #36. Fourteen years old. Goes to school. Works from 4 to 8 p.m. Been with Western Union for six months, one month delivering for a drug store. "I learned a lot about the 'Reservation' [Red Light] while I was at the drug store and I go there sometimes now."

Goes to school and works a job at fourteen years old. I'm officially a pansy.

From Shorpy.com:
November 1913. Shreveport, Louisiana. "Percy Neville, 11 years old. Messenger boy #6 for Mackay Telegraph Company. He has been messenger for different companies for four years. Goes to the Reservation [red light district] every day."

From Shorpy.com:
November 1913. Shreveport, Louisiana. Howard Williams, 13-year-old delivery boy for Shreveport Drug Company. He works from 9:30 a.m. to 10:30 p.m.; has been here three months. Goes to the Red Light every day and night. Says that the company could not keep other messenger boys, they work them so hard.

From Shorpy.com:
Waco, Texas. November 1913. Isaac Boyett: "I'm de whole show." The twelve-year-old proprietor, manager and messenger of the Club Messenger Service, 402 Austin Street. The photo shows him in the heart of the Red Light district where he was delivering messages as he does several times a day. Said he knows the houses and some of the inmates. Has been doing this for one year, working until 9:30 P.M. Saturdays. Not so late on other nights. Makes from six to ten dollars a week.
(Shorpynote: Isaac was born March 20, 1901, and died in May 1966 in Waco.)

This kid is one of my favorites.

From Shorpy.com:
Preston DeCosta, 15 years old. Messenger #3 for Bellevue Messenger Service in San Antonio, Texas. October 1913. I ran across him while he was carrying notes back and forth between a prostitute in jail and a pimp in the Red Light. He had read all the notes and knew all about them. He was a fine grained adolescent boy. Has been delivering messages and drugs in the Red Light for 6 months and knows the ropes thoroughly. "A lot of these girls are my regular customers. I carry 'em messages and get 'em drinks, drugs, etc. Also go to the bank with money for 'em. If a fellow treats 'em right, they'll call him by number and give him all their work. I got a box full of photos I took of these girls - some of 'em I took in their room." Works until 11 P.M.

That's why this kid is smiling so big. Another one of my faves.

Tough kids man. And what is with all the red light disctrict mentions?! Is that something the photographer was obsessed with or just how it was back then?

I should be one of these kids for Halloween. Get sepia makeup and everything. Then I'd get, like, possessed by one and it'd turn into some Buffy episode that ends with a guy in glasses and tweed kicking the crap out this other flamboyant guy and returning everything to normal.

- David

Don't walk away from me you bitch!

P.S. This kid looks so much like my brother Thadius it's creeping me out. He made that same face and everything. Different pants though.

*Shwing!*

Same bike, two different pics taken a few seconds apart. One with flash, one without. Very luckily my friend Kurtz forwarded me what turned out to be my first Craig's List purchase. For my first foray into online classifieds it's was very smooth and pleasant. A nice guy named Neil had the wheels all ready and even provided a long bungie chord to help me cart the wheels home. If I ever run into him whilst wheeling aroung town I'll be sure to say hey and try to return it to him.

Been riding these for a couple of weeks now and I'm very happy. I did change out the tires though, as two flats in two days (one for whatever reason, the second because of some sharp straw) was too much. I put my trusty tires with their liners on and haven't had any issues since. The one drawback is the lack of a machined surface on the front wheel, so I've been pretending to be brakeless. On a couple of emergency occasions I have used the brake for a few seconds and it squeels like crazy, plus isn't good for the reflective material. If it becomes too much of a problem I may have to run/rock a different front rim. I do have some in mind already, you betcha.

Now I just need to find a friend with a car who can let me dork out and have them take pictures from a driver's perspective as I go by in front of their headlights.

- David

Commutes Are Fun

Which I think a lot of people forget when they have cycling to work in mind. Sure there are days when people are trying to kill you, or the wind is trying to kill you, or stop lights are trying to kill you, but all that stuff is still fun when viewed from the right angle.

Saving the environment/money/getting exercise/political statements/etc are all well and good, but having fun is even better. People will go to great lengths if the goal is enjoyment (look at drug users!) but if they're doing something out of obligation or some complex long-term benefit it's a lot harder to stick with. Fun is fun and it's here now, and that's a great motivator. I don't think enough bicycle commuting evangelists make this the focus of their arguments. It's like going up to someone and saying, "If you give me $5 I'll donate it for you and later on you'll get a tax refund." versus "If you give me $5 I'll give you this box of insert-favorite-tasty-treat-here." The second guy is gonna get a lot more Lincolns, or whoever is on a five-dollar bill. Do people still use cash?

Anywho, today was a particularly fun commute. I gots a new chainring from Down Undah (yer mom) last night and even though my gal was pouting on the couch pretty hard I still plopped down and installed that biotch poste-haste. After taking some pictures first, of course. So I was excited right off the bat to see how another tooth felt. I won't get into it here, but it was nice.

The fun part today was traffic. After Colley Ave tried to wear me out with the clever use of every red light possible, I hit a good grove on Hampton Blvd and the bridge (which I was definitely wondering about with a bigger chainring) went by well. Then, being a good boy and stopping at a red light, I out-sprinted a semi and some kind of dump truck when it turned green. Which made me happy. Out-sprinting anything makes me happy, even if it is the vehicular equivalent of an old walrus on the beach.

As I neared the next intersection I smiled big and cuddled up behind a backhoe. If you're not familiar with construction equipment you may think I'm being rude to some woman, but I'm not. A big ol' wind blockin' slow movin' vehicle is an awesome thing on a bicycle. You don't even have to touch it, but it will pull you along for as long as you want. I sat pretty going only slightly slower than normal but putting forth almost zero effort. But sadly the jerk wasn't going to my exact location, so I was out on my own again.

Then came the semi with the flashing hazard lights. He was already through the intersection when I came up on him, so I snuggled up to his big ass too (while always keeping an extra sharp eye out for shit in the road and brake lights). But sadly he was going too slow for even a lecherous scumbag like myself, and soon I had to to pass him. Checking, checking, checking for traffic and then I was up in the pedals, passing a semi truck on a busy road. I even put one hand out and ran it along it's white belly for a moment as I passed. Looking back after half a block I had left it far behind, which I admit isn't saying much (remember, walrus) but to a slow kid who's used to being the slowest thing on the road it was very satisfying.

The ride home was just as fun, with the many incarnations of Jenny Lewis singing to me as she peaked out from the corner of my bag. Night riding is always semi-magical, and the only good thing about this weird daylight savings crap that goes on here. I didn't puss out on any of the bridges or the underpass and nobody really tried to run me over. Five-point-five inches of extra distance per pedal rotation seems to agree with me just enough so that I don't feel out of place, but enough that I still feel the burn.

Well, I gots tomorrow off and hopefully I get some fun shit in before I have to sit for twelve hours straight and fix e-mail, printers, and people's professional lives from within the curve of my headset. Peace.

- David

What the Fuck?

People are CUNTS.

I've seen this article (http://tinyurl.com/9wks5a) on a couple of different blogs about a concept design that would basically create a laser light bike lane for cyclists that surrounded them when they rode at night.  Maybe not very practical, but a pretty cool idea right?  No need to tear up the street or block it off for God knows how long while new lanes are painted, no spending of tax dollars, but cyclists still get their own little buffer zone to be safe in and cars can see them more easily.  Win-win, yeah? 

No.  People are freaking the fuck out over this.  I'm not making any of these comments up, I wish I were:

First comment:
By Kelevra at 1:44 AM ON 01/16/09
"I swear to God, if I ever see you on the road with this shit, I will run you down and back up just to make sure I got you."

By Auntie Hosebag at 1:50 AM ON 01/16/09
"Yeah, or just STAY THE HELL OUT OF THE DAMN STREET!!"

By Yogurt at 3:41 AM ON 01/16/09
"I agree 100% with Kelevra and the fact that there are two of us already means there would be a whole lot of us more out there in the world. Being that self involved to give yourself your own bike lane makes people want to run you over."

By retired524 at 7:24 PM ON 01/19/09
"WHAT I DONT UNDERSTAND IS WHY BICYCLES HAVE THEIR OWN LANE WITHOUT PAYING FOR IT, LIKE= NO LICENSE PLATES, NO TABS, TAXES JUST ILLEGAL MOVES AND WHEN THEY WANT TO USE A BICYCLE LANE. A CAR CANT GO IN THERE LANE, BUT THEY CAN COME IN OURS AND GO ON THE SIDEWALK, ETC. LICENSE PLATES= 6 INCHES LONG, 3 INCHES WIDE. ???????"

Also, despite many people stating it's illegal and more dangerous, people still ask why cyclists can't just use the sidewalk.  I really have to hand it to the cycle-friendly commentors for keeping their cool.

It's the law that cyclists have a right to the road, and it's the law that cyclists get at least four feet of room when being passed.  And since when do cyclists not have to pay any taxes?  How did I miss that boat?

These people are basically saying they want to main and kill other people because they obey the law and ride a bike on the road, and would use a device that could make doing so more safe.  What the fuck?

As a human being who fears for his life from inattentive, impatient, asshole drivers every time he goes to work, to the store, to see friends, to enjoy himself, this is extremely upsetting and offensive to read.  Meat eaters?  I don't care, whatever.  Hardcore Christians?  Do what thou wilt.  Republicans, racists, Neo-Nazis, Pro-lifers, etc?  We're different, I don't agree with you, but it doesn't bother me.  People wanting to run other people over for nothing?  I can't even find the words.  I can't understand the animosity in this situation, I really can't.

When it's car vs. bike, car always wins and the douche bag kept safe inside by re-enforced steel, airbags, and safety glass only has to change the angle of their ankle and the hydraulic-assisted steering wheel to change or take a life away forever.  Purposefully or not.

These people should be lashed onto a bike and chased by an SUV until they drop from exhaustion before having their legs crushed under the slowly turning tires.

 - David

Rollers!

After over a year of wanting, I finally found me some rollers. Warning: Boring video ahead. The only consolation is the song is fun.


Rollahs from David Buchta on Vimeo.
The first night I got them I was all excited to hop on and do some rollin'. I was in for a surprise.

Most rollers don't offer any resistance, but instead help with balance and efficient pedaling. Riding on them sorta feels like riding on ice. The bike is all over the place and steering adjustments have to be tiny or else you're going off one side or the other. I won't lie, it was scary. I couldn't let go of the table for more than a few seconds before I started to go wonky and had to steady myself again.

I gave it another try today and did much better. After I got used to how it felt and just relaxed I was even able to watch House while spinning away. I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Hope the downstairs neighbors can't hear anything.

- David

Can This Count As My Yearly Wreck?

Due to skill, luck, cowardice or a combination of all three I'm pretty much a wreck-free cyclist. Which is probabilistically surprising since my last wreck was hitting that Hummer in August of 2007 and I bike pretty much every where I go. According to The Art of Urban Cycling (which is a good book for any cyclist to read) "major" accidents statistically happen once a year. So I've been waiting and watching, wary for a wreck to wreak... havoc. I couldn't think of another "w" word.

As a point of reference I'm not counting falling over in my living room after I got clipless pedals for the first time or tipping over at four miles an our when a raised sidewalk edge stopped my wheel from going where the rest of the bike was. Those aren't wrecks, those are just embarrassing.

Having commutes on Virginia Beach Blvd (three lanes, almost a highway) and then Hampton Blvd (three lanes, sinkholes, potholes, and assholes all over the place) you'd think I'd have a lot more horror stories besides "Wind was crazy!" and "Startled by a squirrel!" But I don't. Besides having to yell at the occasional person so they don't force me body-kiss the side of their car, everything goes pretty smoothly.

This cold January morning though, I had what I would consider to be a wreck, but only just barely.

It's been rainy lately, and then it got pretty cold. This morning it was a little below freezing when I headed out on the 8.5 mile commute up to the base. As I rode down the street I noted inert water in the gutters, still shaded from the sun by the lip of the sidewalk. I thought, "Oh, ice. Nice." and pedaled along.

Making the transition from Downtown to Ghent usually happens crossing Brambleton Blvd, where I have a short amount of time to make it to the next major intersection before the light changes. It's a daily race I run, and usually I do okay. Today however I was behind three or four cars, so my start was a little delayed. I sprinted anyway, remembering that quitters never win and was about two car-lengths away from the crosswalk when the light turned yellow. I pedaled harder, deciding to go for it, and as I neared the intersection slower than I would have liked I chose instead to turn right and do a little u-turn into the parking lot of 7-11 and back onto the road instead of possibly getting run over by an impatient person late for work.

All went smoothly until I went to leave said parking lot. I popped a little wheely over a rend in the road that had a tiny bit of water in it and aimed Jenny up the street, when suddenly my bike was sliding away and from under my body at an alarming rate. No time to get my shoes out of the clips, no time to make any noise, just bam! On the ground. Helmet glancing off the cold pavement and everything. I was cursing and saying "What the fuck was that?!" to no one. Nobody was around, the cars were all still waiting for their lights to go green. Which was lucky, cuz I could have gotten run over or something.


I rolled over onto my side, got my legs from under the bike and got on the sidewalk. What I thought was a little splash of water was actually a thin sheen of ice. I had taken a turn on ice with road tires too hard and went down like a heavy-headed hooker on Jupiter. I bent my knees, moved my arms, rotated my head, and everything was fine. My iPod had skipped but it was okay. Purveying the damage as I changed at work, my ankle, knee, thigh and fleshy hand part are banged up, but that's it.

I know that was a lot of buildup for something so small (ask my girlfriend, she knows all about that! Zing!) but I wanted to do a proper blog post for once, with links and pictures and the whole deal. I been e-mailing them in too much lately.

It's Friday bitches, and I got one day to wind down and live it up all at the same time. Be safe out there, and watch for douches falling over on the roads.

- David

I Didn't Like Bad Weather...

Until the wind blew me so hard yesterday! Hyuck yuck!

Local news this morning:
"More than 2,500 power customers in Hampton Roads remained without power shortly before 7 a.m. today after storms ripped through the area, toppling trees and knocking down power lines Wednesday night.

Norfolk police reported a tree down on a house in the 500 block of Draper Drive. No was injured, police said.

About 14,500 Dominion customers in southeast Virginia were without power at 11:30 p.m., according to the Dominion Web site. This morning, a little more than 1,200 Dominion customers were without power in northeast North Carolina.

At about 6:30 p.m. Wednesday the National Weather Service warned of high winds associated with a line of thunderstorms moving through Hampton Roads and northeast North Carolina.

The storms brought wind gusts of up to 50 miles per hour as well as small hail and heavy rainfall, according to the weather service.

A small craft advisory and gale warning were issued this morning by the National Weather Service."

I rode home in that! It was probably the scariest and shittiest weather I have ever biked in. My feet felt like frozen clay by the time I got home and those huge gusts were pushing me towards all kinds of places I didn't want to go. I had to put on my face mask cuz the pelting rain was hurting my face and ears.

Still, it was an adventure. I thought about waiting for the bus but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to ride in some heinous conditions. I kept laughing each time a huge gust threatened to knock me over and I'm glad I didn't take the bus.

On the other hand, having dry shoes this morning would have been nice... I need one of them drying racks or something.

- David

The Rider

"The rider is ready. Every fiber of his body is tensed. The interests at stake here are enormous. He knows the opposition is strong and varied, but he is not afraid. In his mind, all is absolute silence, tension, certainty.

Then the traffic light turns green. Two, three strokes and the rider is spurting full out; there he goes, the first to shoot across the tramline, earning him the usual hundred-thousand-guilder premium. Of all his rivals, a Volkswagen poses the greatest threat, but the rider squeezes out every last drop and succeeds in throwing himself over the front of the crosswalk first, then over the back of the crosswalk, as first past a traffic post and as first past a garbage can: four more fat prizes of one hundred thousand guilders each. Then the Volkswagen passes him.

But he's still first among two-wheelers! He passes the back and then the front bumpers of two parked cars, the two curbs of a side street and an advertising kiosk before a scooter catches up with him; by then, however, that's earned him another seven times one thousand guilders.

The rider is about to cut in and coast when he sees up ahead a woman on a bike, with a child on the back. Two hundred thousand guilders if he passes her before she gets to that pole. Two hundred thousand! Even though he's nowhere near having recovered from his sprint, the rider jumps again with all his might. No way he can ever beat this woman. But this rider has surprised the sporting world before, and this time he gives it ever milli-billimeter he's got: in a desperate attempt, he pitches forward.

The woman sticks out her hand and turns down a side street.

The rider rolls out, slowly catches his breath, cruises up to the next traffic light. He stands and eyes his opponents. The BMW motorcycle seems fairly invincible.

A million if he beats it to the crosswalk anyway!"

I think I've talked about this book before, called The Rider by Tim Krabbé. It's a thin little read, $13 at Barnes & Noble. I lent a copy to my amigo Jeff and then he moved, taking the book with him! It's cool though, cuz Kasey got me another one as part of my b-day spoiling.

The book takes place in a rider's head during a 137 kilometer bicycle road race. The excerpt above is one my favorite parts, as I think all cyclists have gone through some variation of this game with regularity. It's a fun read and easy to get caught up in; it captures a lot of the varied emotions I go through when riding hard, from hopelessness to confusion and elation to self-chastisement. Throughout the book you can tell the author (and the rider) loves cycling for it's own sake and even the torturous aspects of the race are worth it.

If you're in the market for a good, quick read that will make you feel like you've expended yourself, pick it up.

- David

Red Means Stop!

Insert Hellboy picture here.  Sadly I'm at work today and cannot login to do a proper post, so use your imagination.  We apologize for the inconvenience.

Yesterday I headed Downtown to do a bit of grocery shopping with Jenny (my bike), The Mansion (my big bag), and the newest member of the team, Nathan Explosion (the super loud iPod-playing bike speaker thingy).  Whilst perusing the ladies deodorant section my friend Kurtz appeared, having seen my bike locked up outside.  After purchasing forty-five pounds or so of groceries I accompanied him to the mall where he was headed to pay his phone bill.  After answering questions about our cycling shoes ("Hey, are those soccer shoes?") and looking at graphic novels at B&N we took off, and I had a fun time blasting Dethklok from my new bike accessory and bombing the three levels of the parking garage down to street level.  I don't often get to do it, but cycling with a friend is a lot of fun.  Especially with a soundtrack!

Now, to the soccer moms and angry commuters of the world it may seem that I'm a careless and dangerous cyclist, but let me assure you that I'm more aware of my surroundings and careful than 95% of the drivers out there.  For one, I'm on the outside of my vehicle instead of the other way around, and that's something I never forget.  And two, I know just how retarded and absent-minded people get behind the wheel of a car and I'm constantly prepared to have someone try and run me over.  As a (sometimes) fast moving object in an urban environment that straddles the line between pedestrian and vehicle, I have some wiggle room that I would be remiss if I didn't take advantage of.  So when I'm in traffic and you see me execute any number of creative maneuvers I do as a cyclist in the city, just know that I've played it out in my mind multiple times and double-checked all parties involved as much as possible before I do anything, legal or not.

So imagine my not-quite-surprise when I have the green light and take a right-hand turn into the closest lane and suddenly a car is speeding through the intersection, against the light, luckily in the next lane over.  At first I thought, "Crap, did I not have the light?  No, I'm pretty sure it was green and other cars were stopped..."  I made sure the car in question wasn't going to pancake me and took a quick glance back.  Sure enough, his light was red.  I've seen innumerable cars roll through stop signs and the like, but this was my first blatant red light runner.  You may be calling me hypocritical at this point, but I was pissed.  If I run a red light and get hit, that's my fault and at most the other person will have to fill out an insurance claim and a police report.  If someone fails to stop and takes me out, the consequences are a lot greater on the shit end of the stick.

I started to chase down the villain to see where the fire was and possibly inform him of his mistake, but at the next intersection he pulled a quick U-turn.  More and more I think how handy and pleasing it would be to have a roll of big stickers readily available that say things like "I Drive Like a Douche", "I Have No Idea What I'm Doing", and "Warning: Asshole Behind the Wheel" to punish bad driving behavior and warn other people, drivers and cyclists alike, about what they can expect.  Kurtz had a good idea as well involving NAMBLA bumper stickers.  I'm sure it could be construed as property damage or some other BS if we got caught, but man, it would still be worth it.  Maybe we could pass it off as confrontational written-word performance art.  Freedom of speech, man!

Anyone know of a good sticker-printer and delivery system?  Just for uh, conversational purposes?

 - David

Good Quote

From Dustin Klein of Cadence, who makes some pretty cool cycle-centric clothing and junk:

"Since 1999 I have made the conscious decision
to live car-free and relish the political and
individual effects of this. Once the motor
vehicle is out of the equation, you start to
base your life around the bicycle. To me this is
beautiful and I love how it affects everything
from where you choose to live, to the types of
food you eat. To me, bicycles are a physical
representation of freedom, and I live my life
by it."

It's quite true; once a bike becomes your only mode of transportation your whole life starts to change around it.  I eat both worse and better because I ride 98% of the time.  Better because things like pop are crap to have in your belly while you ride, worse because I figure I bike a ton and I can eat whatever the fug I want.

Also, I've actually started doing yoga instead of just talking about it.  Granted it's just cuz my legs get tight enough to make harp strings jealous and I gotta loosen them up somehow, but still.  It's something.  My household has also slowly moved towards the European style of grocery shopping, which I guess means numerous small trips to a local store instead of one huge trip to stock up for a month.  Which was always annoying to me but the short trips are actually enjoyable.

Anywho, ride a bike.

It's my Friday, I'm going home now.

 - David

Bicycling Buffet Burglar Busted!

A month or so ago I posted about a Chinese food place in my area that had been robbed repeatedly by a guy who made his escapes via bicycle.  Apparently he (or a copy cat at least) has been caught!

"Police have charged a 19-year-old in connection with a robbery at Empire Buffet at 1106 London Blvd.

Patrick Louther, of the 1100 block f Blair St., has been charged with the Dec. 1 robbery and using a gun during a felony, according to a police news release. An investigation is continuing, police said.

Investigators said earlier this month that the restaurant had been robbed several times since Aug. 26.

No injuries were reported during the robberies."

What happens to his bike though?  Maybe the bike made him do it, like that Stephen King story about the possessed car.  It drove him to steal, but it's powers were only strong enough on roads with bike lanes.  Oo, oo!  And then the police give the bike to the owners of the buffet as part of their compensation and it drives their young son to a life of crime and it starts all over again!  If I added a retard to this story Stephen King would be showing up at my door with a big bag with a dollar sign on it fer sure.

 - David

Conversations Concerning Cycle Commuting - Volume 1

People give funny reactions sometimes when they find out a person rides to work every day.  I'm sure in places that have harsher climates like Alaska and such it's even worse, but even for lil' ol' me in the relatively moderate climes of Virginia people are sometimes shocked that I hazard to ride in such things as the rain, the cold, and Hampton Blvd traffic.

Today my friend Nancy was at my desk, messing with the World's Largest Styrofoam Ball tourist attraction that is my helmet when a lady from QA walked by and asked what she had a helmet for.  Nancy replied that it was my helmet and that I rode into work every day.  What follows is a loose approximation (just like yer mom) of their conversation:

QA Lady - It's raining outside!
Nancy - He loves riding in the rain, he says it's a lot of fun.
QA Lady - Does he know Virginia drivers have no respect for human life?  They go, "Oo!  Shiny bicycle!" *mimes turning steering wheel into path of bicycle*

They then went on to talk about how dangerous it is for motorcycles too, but how it was even worse for cyclists because I'm little and my bike is little and together we are a fragile little thing blowing in the turbulence of the big scary cars.

Also, it was more sprinkling than raining today and with the 65 degree weather it was quite nice.  Toweling myself off in the bathroom with paper towels wasn't as good, but you gotta take a little crap for what you love.

Common commute conversations include asking how many tires I go through, how long it takes me to get into work, where I ride from, why I wear "short pants", and stories about how awesome the bike they had fifteen years ago was.  Nobody asks the fun questions like if I've ever been run over or what's the best thing a driver has ever yelled at me.  Those are the kinds of things I would immediately think to ask.

Today is my Friday, and it wouldn't have come sooner.  Gonna try to hang out tonight with my amigo and then it's three days of Me Time.

Piece out home slices.

 - David

News

From my current hometown of Portsmouth, VA:

"Robbery suspect escapes on bicycle

PORTSMOUTH, Va. - The Empire Buffet restaurant in Portsmouth has been robbed four times in the past three months and police believe the same suspect is behind them all.

The latest robbery happened on December 1, 2008 at 9:10 p.m..

Police say the suspect, described as a young black man, walked into the restaurant on London Boulevard and demanded money while pointing a handgun at the employees.

He made the employees lie on the floor, then went behind the counter and removed the money from the cash register drawer.

Witnesses say they saw the suspect leave on a bicycle.

This is the fourth armed robbery at the business since August 26, 2008. During that robbery, the suspect had two handguns, one in each hand. The other robberies were on November 13 and November 22.

Detectives believe the same suspect participated in all four robberies and he tried to conceal his identity each time. Police say a second suspect was involved in two of the crimes.

Anyone with information that could help lead police to the suspects is asked to call the Crime Line at 1-888-LOCK-U-UP."

Man, I feel bad for the people who are getting held up so much but the image of a rober escaping by bicycle is hilarious. It's probably one of those ridiculous beach cruiser type bikes too, with the handlbears pointing straight up in the air and the seat set way too low. I'd pay to see that getaway.

- David

Brrrrr-ing It! *EDIT*

I dunno 'bout th' rest y'all, but it's winter time out here in Virginia. What does that mean to Y.T. as a year-round cyclist? Rosy cheeks, shrinkgage, and winter cycling gear. I'm applying the term "year-round cyclist" to myself mostly on credit, as lately I've been one lazy turd. It's not the weather, it's that I just cannot get up at 5:00am. Unless there's something exciting going on, like free food or ye Olde Towne Orgy, I just can't motivate myself. Here in a few weeks I'm going to try and switch schedules, see if I can't sleep in a bit and still catch the bus.

But anywho, that's not what I want to talk about. Apparently there is a class of rider out there who has a "season" of cycling, where "bad" weather and the winter months have them leaving their bicycles in the garage until the weather is "nice" again. That kind of baffles my mind. I can think of nothing more irritating than not riding a bike at least every other day and then having to build my legs, my stamina, and my minivan tolerance back up from square-effin'-one. How much of a pain must it be to just stop cycling at your physical peak and then, months and months later, try to match the same performance level the mind and body must remember from before. Or trading the freedom of the outdoors for basically a glorified exercise bike, if you use indoor trainers. No spanks.

"Bad" weather can be exciting on a bike. And the more time you spend in "bad" weather, the more and more it actually takes for you to classify it as such, until you find yourself one day happily remarking that as long as you're riding with the arm of the hurricane it's really quite fun. I like riding in the rain. I like it when it's cold. I'm faster the chillier it is outside. Hot weather... welllll, sometimes when it's super hot and humid I feel like I'm gonna die, but that has a certain enjoyment to it too. Afterward. The wind can be a bitch, but it can be your bitch if the situation is right. I always enjoy the special treat of having a nice tailwind and it's completely silent around me as I zip along at eighteen-plus miles an hour with minimal effort.

As any outdoorsy person will (annoyingly) tell you, there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. This is completely true, unless it's raining meteors. Then that's bad, and no amount of clothing can help you. The right configuration of clothing will be the difference between having a fun story and a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, and being in a crap mood and having a tiny, chilly willy. Or sore nipples. Or both.

You may not even have to buy anything, if you don't want to. Do you have any skiing/snowboarding gear gathering dust in the closet? Do you have enough clothing items that if you put them on at the same time they'd make layers? Do you possess duct tape and plastic baggies? Then you probably have everything you need. The biggest difference between my "good" weather gear and my cold weather gear is the layers.

With the windchill lately it's been below freezing nearly every time I get on a bike, yet I find myself getting sweaty and rolling back sleeves after only a few minutes into the ride. This is not due to expensive, bike-centric, cold weather gear. True, some of my items are geared towards cyclists (ha!), but the majority are not. For instance, up top I wear a Merino wool t-shirt, a cotton zip-up hoodie, and a polyester vest from Forever 21 or my Solo gilet to keep out some of the wind. When it gets really cold (twenty and below or so) I just add wool arm warmers. On bottom I wear some Merino wool undies, jeans or knickers, and wool socks with toe covers over my cycling shoes. Again, if it gets super cold I'll wear simple long underwear/longjohns or leg warmers. I have fingerless gloves that turn into mittens and a winter hat that will fit under my helmet. The combo of items mentioned above could get me through any non-Icicles and Bicycles type of winter condition. The pic above was taken at the time of this writing when it was chilly and windy enough to produce a huge snow flurry, and is my default cold gear configuration.

I do have some bike-specific clothing items I've accumulated over the year-plus which aren't cheap but are totally worth it. Number one with a bullet are my Swobo Bruno wool knickers. The are without a doubt the spendiest clothing item I own, but they are also the favorite and most useful when the mercury begins to dip. I got them with my hefty tax return and I don't regret it one bit. My only regret is that I have but one ass for them to cover, and that I can't wear them year round. I also have a gilet (which seems to be a fancy way of saying "vest") from Solo, as well as some arm and leg warmers on their way now. I know this is sorta against the whole You Don't Gots to Spend Money to Bike All Year theme of this post, but if you're gonna do it (like I do it) it can be handy to see what other peeps are using.

You may notice a re-occurring theme in my clothing items. No, not the cross-dressing. Wool. Say it with me: WOOL. Merino wool to be exact. Merino wool is what you'd get if you crossed an angora bunny with a sheep. Soft, awesome, insulatey goodness. It doesn't itch, it isn't scratchy, you can sweat in it over and over and it doesn't get smelly, and it keeps you toasty without keeping the moisture in. Wool retains heat when it's soaking wet, and even when it's frozen. It's magical. If you are looking to get some new stuff for riding in the cold, I'd recommend you go in for wool. My knickers, socks, underwear, t-shirt and tanktop (in the summer), gloves, arm and leg warmers, a hat or two, and my balaclava (for those really cold, windy days) are all wool. I'm in the market for a wool jersey now, and if I could produce wool instead of body hair, I would.

One thing I have not mentioned that is always available, always free, and does nearly all the work of keeping a body warm in cold conditions, is the heat your body produces naturally. Just sitting there, like you are now, your body is producing heat. And when you exercise it only produces more. The harder your ride, the more your body works, and the more internal heat you will produce for your clothing to keep in. The faster you go, the warmer you'll be, as opposed to something like riding a motorcycle in the cold, where more speed only equals more wind. Ride hard and you will be comfortable, maybe even hot, as your breath steams along behind you in little puffs like the world's cutest locomotive. Drivers give you more space and respect (as my own experience has shown) and you'll be pleased with yourself. Plus, winter is a beautiful time of year, too beautiful to spend scurrying between one climate controlled bubble to the next.

So remove that bike from your garage, throw on some layers, and get your ass out there. Cuz Santa doesn't like quitters.

- David

Holy Shiat

Have you ever seen something that is just so crazy and awesome that your eyes mist up a little bit?


The amount of planning, dorkiness, creativity, and friend-participation that went into this makes this the best thing I have seen in a long while. Stolen from Dublin Messengers.

- David

*Shrug*

After getting picked up after the Halloween race, stumbling and sauced, my night was about over. But my buddy Kurtz's night was just beginning apparently.


I don't know no details, but apparently my silent but deadly amigo spent the night in a real locked box, no imagination necessary. He is the Tyler Durden to my Edward Norton. I'm sure potential employers are happy about it, but right now I'm wishing my criminal record was a little less white cotton panties and a little more crotchless leather.

It rained balls today. I got misted on during my mile and a half ride to work, but it was real purdy and refreshing. Then it poured and poured and poured, and as I changed into my rain clothes I knew I wasn't taking the bus today. I'm a fowl weather rider; the shittier the weather, the more I want to cycle in it. Unless it's something like 23 mph right in my face. And even then I'd consider it. As it was, the wind felt like 23 mph right against my back. I rode the entire 8.5 miles home, rain, wind, and people nosing their fat asses out of parking lots and all. It was awesome. I love the rain. My junk is drying as it hangs on my drying bike right now.

I'm sneaking in about four hours of overtime this week. See me stroke my mustache maniacally. I need the money.

Obama is President. I'm happy, I just wish I could have been in a bar or someplace public when it was announced. I heard that shit was loud. In related news, I don't have to move to Canada yet. Thanks, America.

I've been eating a lot, but not biking a lot. That needs to change.

Family life is good. I love my cat, and she loves me. I love my dog, she's so smart and pretty. I love Bunny, the old hermit of our clan. I love Kasey, she gets lovelier every day. And the guy in the mirror is passable, dome days.

Nighty.

- David

Any pictures you see in this blog that don't suck are not taken by me, and I am not taking credit for them. I always link the image to the photographer's web page.

Don't Come A Knockin'

If my dollar-store knee-high tights are rockin'.


This outfit worked surprisingly well for Halloween's Critical Mass and the race. Plus, I knew how fast I was going by how high my thin skirt was riding up. I'm sure the bright whites of my upper thighs kept me night safe as well; I swear they were almost reflective.

At the after-party I attended one participant (a lovely girl covered in red makeup with devil horns and big red wings) commented that for the entire night she thought I was actually a lady, and was all heartbroken for "that poor girl" when she saw my flat tire trouble. These hips have fooled more than one person, let me tell ya. And I bet my shaved legs helped a little. I gotta say ladies, I just shaved up to right above the knee and it took forever. Luckily I had an audio book going.

A lot of people actually dressed up and I was glad. My favorite costumers were Kurtz's French mime (awesome job on the face paint), Wonderwoman, this guy who showed up as a green dinosaur, and Team Zissou, complete with pregnant reporter.

The race winner went home with a severed leg poking out of his backpack, and I'm certain everyone went home with a smile on their face.

- David

Adven-tar!

This is a post I wrote but didn't finish writing until today; I found it while I was adding tags to all my entries.

I've said many times that everything on a bicycle becomes a little adventure. Whether it's jaunting to the (recently non-depressing) Dollar General or out further to 7-11 for a few items, or across the river to meet a friend for lunch or read at the Barnes and Noble "library", or meeting your girl at the mall to try on sweaters, it's all a lot more fun on a bike. If I had to hop in a car and drive out to any of those places everytime I wanted/needed to it wouldn't be fun, it'd be a royal pain in the ass.

For example, by cycling and taking the bus to work I get the benefit of enjoyable excercise and being delivered promptly to my destination while I read and eat a breakfast bar or take a nap. And instead of, say, swinging by my apartment on the way home and picking the gal up, then driving back Downtown, then paying for/finding a parking spot, she takes a ferry ride and a walk while I bike and we meet up in the middle. Fantabulous.

Even just getting onto the base on a bike is an adventure. Unless I'm carpooling with a fellow employee the closest I can get dropped off to my actual building is exactly a mile away. One day I had fun not getting run over by a dumptruck (and scarily recalling all of the lorry/HGV tragedies I've read at Messenger of Doom or Moving Target) and then racing not one but two dumptrucks across a flat street and winning. I'm getting a plaque made now, "David: Faster Than a Dumptruck Going the Speed Limit".

If I was really pushing this whole thing to it's limits, I could even say I outran the law that day. Being late (like I was) and posessing... flexible cycling ethics (like I do) I took a few shortcuts to try and speed that mile along. As I came to a long line of cars waiting to turn left I deceided not to wait. I crossed the oncoming lane, hopped up on the sidewalk, made the corner, and hopped back onto the pavement between some traffic cones, and went along my merry way.

Not one second later I hear the frenzied whistle of the cop directing traffic in the intersection behind me. I was not stopping, clinging to the code, "It's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission." I didn't look back, and I'm sure he didn't chase me. But it was exciting for a moment. I laughed at/to myself as I pedaled along, sweating in my work clothes, wondering how late I'd have to stay to make my ten hours. I find myself laughing a lot on a bike.

When was the last time you had a fun story to tell about your car ride to work?

- David

Say No to DNF *EDIT*

This is going to a brief overview of last night's shenanigans. Once I get pictures off cameras, routes off GPS devices, and laziness out of my bones there will be a full multi-media account of Halloween goings on.

First off, it was a blast. Kurtz put together an awesome race and we had a good turnout. Checkpoints included finding a needle in an apple, getting a kiss-mark from a stranger, entering a few drinking establishments, receiving a baggie of real human hair, and arts & crafts. There was even a bonus item which cannot be detailed here, although it is definitely Halloweeny, certainly not destructive, and probably a misdemeanor.

Twenty minutes into the race I got a flat, and after getting cussed out by the man himself and having his repair kit tossed in my direction, I found I could not get my rear wheel off no matter how hard I tried. Usually crescent wrenches work fine, but I was just stripping one of my nuts (ha!) and decided to give it up. But then I figured, "You know what? Fuck it." I locked my bike up and jogged the rest of the checkpoints, passing fellow racers here and there and even beating a few of them to the finish. I re-discovered something very special that night: Running sucks so damn hard.


Fer some reason you can't embed custom maps, so click the pic too see it in Google Maps if yer interested. The red path is what I did on foot, and the red icon is where my tire went flat.

I returned to Kurtz's home/the finish line and was greeted by many a costumed racer already imbibing. I drank a quick one, traded shoes, and rode a strange bike to ghost ride my disabled beastie back. With proper tools I sat cross-legged in a short skirt on a kitchen floor and fixed the flat. More drinking was followed by a bit more drinking, and then some more. The final four patrons were standing/sitting/wobbling around preparing to head out into the night when Kasey showed up and enabled us (in more ways than one) to sit and chat longer.

Thus, thoroughly intoxicated and fulfilled, Y.T. was driven home by his lovely lady where he then sat on the couch and watched Gilmore Girls and had a veggie burger with mustard and cheese, and then went to bed. A fun, fun night for sure.

Now I just need to get this stiffness out of my legs.

- David

EEEK!

Halloween race!


And the scariest thing of all? Y.T. cross-dressing. I'm gonna slut it up, serious. Race is after Critical Mass today, which hopefully is full of cats dressed up for Halloweeny. It's gonna be a little crisp though and people tend to puss out easily. So come on out, it'll be fun times.

Pics fer sure, maybe even some video.

- David

I Like Videos

Especially with bikes and traffic.


Empire from Empire on Vimeo

- David

Effin' Aye Man

Effin' aye.





This comic is pretty cute as super-bike-centric things go, but these strips in particular are awesome. Same guy even painted his own illegal bike lanes, which I think would be a fun project for some crafty nocturnal people to do.

- David

Fackin' Buses

Today I hate buses.

This morning while doing my daily Sprint de Busstop I approached an intersection at the same time as an HRT bus coming from the opposite direction. I'm in the far-right lane going to turn right, and the bus is in the turning lane, set to enter the same street as me. I have the green light and I'm traveling faster than the bus. My bright-ass Knog light is blink-bliking, my vest is red and has reflective bits, there are working street lights all around. I can see the bus driver's face.

I'm looking at the driver, he's apparently looking at me. At this point I haven't indicated with hand gestures or smoke signals or body language that I'm turning. For all he knows I'm going straight on through the intersection. My light is still green, not yellow or red.

As I approach the crosswalk lines at speed, suddenly he accelerates and begins to turn right in front of me. I'm making a face at him (that he probably couldn't see, he was looking into the turn) like, "What the fuck, man? I thought we had an understanding." Had I been going straight and not looking right at the bus I would have run smack into it, or under it. I had to brake moderately hard and turn down my intended street, and still I ended up close alongside the bus about 3/4 down it's length.

Now, I did not signal my turn because I wasn't crossing any lanes and the bus was the only other vehicle on the road. Plus I believe legally I had the right of way and, silly me, I expected a city bus to respect that. It wouldn't have made any difference, the bus would have cut me off either way. In fact if I hadn't been turning it could have been wose as I may have been going faster and been in the middle of the intersection or unprepared to turn as Mr. Buspants decided to cut Y.T. off. 5:27am is way too early to be dodging buses and avoiding crushity death.

I've had an HRT bus push me into another lane before, and that was scarier, probably because I was still new to the commuting world and those rear-engine buses sneak up on you. But this was just angering. Probably because I always background-expect shit like this to happen. I need to start keeping my u-lock within reach and tapping on windows and shit, get me some respect. Or some missing teeth...

At any rate, bike rack was full today. I biked home, laid down for twenty minutes, then drove it in. I'm just going to start using a bus stop further down the route, or hitching it through the tunnel. I wish I could go around HRT all together. Except for the ferry. I love the ferry.

Today is my Friday, I'm ready for it. Take me.

- David

If You Wanna Be My Stalker

You gotta get with my blog.

Yesterday, much to my surprise, I found my lower-half pedaling right past the bus stop on my way home as my upper-half looked around like, "Wha- Ooooooh." Then upper- and lower-half pedaled right on down Hampton Blvd and all the way home without any prompting or prodding from your humble narrator.


View Larger Map
It was quite nice. The weather was cool, there wasn't any wind, and as far as I can tell no one tried to run me down.  Hell, no one even sped angrily past me. I tell people all the time how "adverse" weather conditions like the cold and the rain make drivers a little more respectful of cyclists, but it really is quite surprising to see.

After the bridge I had to stop and take my sweatshirt off though, and an old lady walked past eying me warily as she approached.  I smiled and huffed (it's a hilly bridge), "It's warmer than I thought!" She grinned, apparently convinced I wasn't a hoodlum intent on striping down entirely and/or stealing her purse. Clothed thus in wool undershirt and my new Flash t-shirt, I biked through Ghent and Downtown Norfolk with pink arms, face, and fingers from the chilly air. A woman pulling out a parking lot had to wait for me, stern-faced as most drivers are, and I was able to elicit a genuine smile from her as I went past and beamed a full-faced thankful grin in her direction. Waiting for the ferry a young father told me liked one of my new stickers. "Tootie fuckin' frutie man, I like that." I had just been listening to his wife tell their toddler she was going to have to put her in the river if she didn't say mamma, which apparently she can do but refuses to. All in all a most enjoyable commute.

Today though, I took too long in the shower (and I had to take one, it'd been days. Don't judge.) and missed the bus. When the weather is fine you can count on the bus being late, but when it's cold you have no room to play with. I pulled up four minutes after 5:30 and it was gone gone gone. So I biked slowly back home, defeated, not looking forward to getting Kasey out of bed to drive me. But we were both in luck as she didn't need the car today and I got to take a thirty minute nap before heading out again, although apparently I should have made it only fifteen or so. I was late today.

I think my remaining pug has realized Riley isn't coming back from wherever it was she's been this whole time. She seems forlorn, as forlorn as a half-retarded pug can look I suppose. It's so hard to filter out what is probably projection. The vet said she would get moody though, at least for a while. I think Tilly is feeling it too. Riley was a huge presence in that house, with her constant pug-noises, licking of inanimate and invisible objects, and constant following of Yours Truly. Every time a helicopter goes by my brain gets set to yell something at her. I'm sad she's gone.

The last few months have just been a mess. It feels like I'm just scraping by, barely surviving. It's so hard to clean, get out of bed, be constructive, do anything that isn't just trying recuperate from lord knows what by lying around and eating. I miss my family. I feel so guilty about not calling them that I continue to not call them, and then feel guilty again. I have this weird thing with calling my family, where if I don't have anything good to report I don't feel like I should be calling. Which is totally ridiculous, I know. They never put pressure on me to do anything. But I want them to think I'm happy, and doing good in life, and all that junk. And while in my opinion I am, not everyone shares my standards. I'll call soon though, I keep having dreams about them.

I just passed down my first u-lock to my good friend David BS. It feels a little like passing a torch. Maybe he'll get into cycling in a big way and I can say I gave him his first good bike lock. Or maybe I'll be called to the witness stand regarding the brutal maiming of someone with a blunt object that has my fingerprints on it. David BS is the kind of friend that would do that, and I'm the kind of friend that would try to cover for him.

Sweet, I just got approved to go home early. I could stay late but... I'm not gonna. I got forms to print out and send in and dogs to walk and free coffee to consume and girls to kiss. Adios.

- David

Edit: Apparently I should not try e-mail in posts that contain HTML, apologies for the ugly mess.

Stickin' It to The Man

With swear words, rebel skullz, facial hair, and stroke-faces:



I got some long-wanted stickers from Kenny & Emily when we visited them in NC this weekend, and as soon as I got home I stuck on my lil' Jenny to make her more bad ass. It's common knowledge that in yer face stickers add speed and handling to a bike like racing stripes do to a sports car. If I could get two more awesome longer black stickers for my forks I'd be set. Maybe something about NAMBLA...

I had a dream the other night of hanging out in a cyclist bar, where you could bring your bike inside and all the tables were high so you could sit on your seat and drink at the same time. My buddy Kurtz was there and we were doing shots and drinking beers and having spontaneous track stand competitions with modifiers like crossed arms or keeping the liquor on our tongues. It would work I tell ya, until the head injury lawsuits came in.

Now that the weather seams to have turned cold I may try riding a few more miles into work, see how that works out, even though Hampton Blvd is horrendous. The first time I almost get ran over from behind though, it's over. That's one atrocity I have not yet had to endure.

OT is back. Woo. Although I will need the money, but still. *Sigh*

I'm eating free "expired" pastries and laughing it up inside a closed Starbucks. Good times, good time.

Take care, y'all.

- David

Don't Let Anyone Blame You For Tryin'

But you cannot put a smoothie in your messenger bag and expect to make it without incident.  I didn't even make it onto the bike.

And the double-decker egg salad sammich didn't fare too well either.  I dunno if it was the twenty mile-per-hour wind or my apparent inability to transport food on a bike, but I returned from a hasty lunch run sticky and with some kind of egg salad sandwich/potato chip hybrid food in a bag.

Guess it's time to invest in some kind of collapsible rack or something.

 - David

Stuff & Yeah

A pretty cute commercial, whether you're a bike dork or not.

So stuff has been going okay. Work has picked up since my sups have "progressed" me, which basically means I'm cleared to take more types of calls than I was before. So instead of being able to read a couple pages between calls now I can take a couple breaths. This also means that instead of bright, shiny new users who are polite I'm taking calls from people who are upset that their shit is broken. It gives me lots of opportunities to practice patience, acceptance, and fake politeness.

I had a race last night after Critical Mass, put on by local biker and photo-grapher Wes. The $5 entry fee went to the SPCA and the racers went on a seven mile loop through Downtown Norfolk and Ghent in roughly the shape of Hello Kitty's head, which also adorns the spoke card. I was most excited for the pre-race track stand competition, which I did pretty well in. Top three got to start three minutes early, and after we could only use one hand the number dropped quickly and myself and two other guys got to take off ahead of the pack. Not that it did me any good, I still came in fifth place. I feel that I'm a decent enough rider, but I tend to get turned around or take circuitous routes when I'm on my own. As soon as I know the streets as well as my fellow racers I'll do a lot better.

My one self-consolation is that I beat out another rider in a dead sprint to the finish. It's one thing to finish an entire race before someone, but to be neck and neck at the end and pull ahead is a pretty cool feeling. He had a good burst of speed but couldn't keep the sprint up, which is really the hardest part. Another fun part was wrecking into Kurtz on the way to the bar and somehow unclipping from both pedals, hopping off the bike as it somersaulted under and away from me, and landing perfectly on one foot, hitting the ground running as it were.

Racing up Church Street was especially fun, cutting through traffic and running red lights (always with care) like I was a seventeen-inch wide ambulance. During races one finds oneself doing things one would curse at other cyclists for if it was any other day of the week, such as riding between lanes of traffic or between traffic and the curb and ignoring signs, lights, and one-way streets. But hey, it's a race. It's not any other day of the week. I'm a respectable enough rider the rest of the time, and even when I'm not I don't get in anyone's way. And I always make sure to at least have the outlines of an escape plan if shit goes south. Even if that plan involves possibly rolling across the hood of a parked car or taking my chances in oncoming traffic.

Kasey has been working two jobs, one at Panera and the other training at Starbucks. A new one is opening right outside of our tiny neighborhood and Kasey got hired there, which is fantastic. She loves working for Starbucks and she won't have to drive out to Virginia Beach and back every day, which is like a raise in itself. You could walk there in ten minutes or so. Monday is her last day as a double-jobber and I'm proud of her for staying at Panera so long, even after she got hired at Starbucks. Let's just say her soon-to-be previous employer wasn't exactly up to her standards.

Also, although 98% of you won't know what I'm talking about and the other 1.9% won't care, I now have a perfect town in Animal Crossing on my Nintendo DS. What is Animal Crossing? It's a game that's hard to explain and even harder to justify to your friends. You basically live in a little town with other non-player characters and do things like fish, catch bugs, plant trees and flowers, write letters, decorate your house (which you pay off your mortgage on to upgrade), etc. This game for me is epitome of Japanese game making: Simple, weird, adorable, and somehow addicting. Anyway, if you get the perfect balance of trees and flowers in half or more of your acres then your town is "perfect". I needed to pass some time, so I mapped out my entire town on a grid and got every acre to be prefect. If I can keep it so for two weeks I get a golden watering can. Why? To grow golden roses of course! Yeah, I know. But it took time and effort and I feel I've accomplished something.

With that confession of nerdiness, I'm outtie. Have a safe Labour Day (as they'd say across the water) and for those of you who follow my Twitters and such: I'm alive, I'm well and moving around, I just can't text for a bit. I'll check in when I can.

Bonzai!

- David

God Damn Cyclists

And I mean that sincerely.

You know how certain people get about certain movies/music/books they really, really like? How if other people hate them, then they're just retarded retards anyway. And if other people like them, then they're poser douchebag dickheads? Yeah, that's how I am with cycling lately.

Before, my love of cycling was a lot more accepting in nature: "You ride bikes too?! Then you are my brother and can do no wrong." Now it's much more, "Fucking cyclists! Get the fuck off the sidewalk/road/face of the Earth!" This thought goes through my head even if I'm currently on a bike. Why this sudden change? I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I can't get my sorry ass to work without leaving my bike locked to a fence at some bus stop because rusty, mis/disused, hobo-ghetto bicycles are always filling up the racks. And the recent proliferation of inexperienced cyclists out on the road doing shit like riding down the wrong side of the road and nearly killing me, themselves, and my faith in man in the process.

Give me the cold days, the rainy days, the shitty weather days over a nice sunny day. At least then I don't have to worry about some pasty office worker in spandex on a beach cruiser fucking with my chi. Good weather brings out the Good Weather Riders, which have about as much experience on a bike in traffic as I do on a donkey under water. It's not that they're intrinsically stupid (actually, there's a good chance they are) it's mostly that they have no idea what the hell they are doing. Imagine me, David the blogger, deciding to try being a rodeo clown. I go out into the pit or whatever the hell it's called, and then wrap a blanket over my head and proceed to stumble about. I may get lucky and keep all my plasma inside my body, but more likely than not I'm going to get myself and somebody else hurt. That's what I see when a person who only bikes on "nice days" goes by: A rodeo clown with a blanket over their head, who doesn't even have the decency to wear those huge clown pants so I can be spared the intimate details of their saggy anatomy.

Now all Asshole Elitism aside, I do like people riding bikes. It makes me happy to see people happy as they pedal along, enjoying the breeze and the smooth exercise. But if you're going to do it, do it right. Know the rules of the road, right-of-way, and traffic laws, so that when you ignore them it can at least be a conscious decision and maybe done correctly enough to not cause any misfortune. As for my own part, I read and I read and I read until I figured I couldn't read anymore. Then I rode to work for two days and read a whole bunch more I discovered I didn't know. I'm still doing that to this day.

But don't be fooled, you can't learn how to navigate the dangerous and sexy Metal Stream of Traffic from blogs and books. It has to be done before you can know how to do it. Just like porkin'. You are going to fuck up and you are going to piss off motorists and other cyclists alike along the way. Hell, I'm sure I do it every time I saddle up. But as experience grows you fuck up less, and the fuck ups become more slight, and then before you know it you're only pissing motorists off on purpose. (Actually that's a lie, there's no way to not piss off motorists, on a bike or not.)

When it gets cold again I'm sure my tune will change. People find ways to get where they're going inside shiny happy vehicles when the temperature drops and forget all thought of biking. Even motorists are a bit more tolerant when it's twelve degrees outside or raining gallon-droplets on your head. Then I'll be all excited to see a fellow cyclist out on the road and my brotherly love will come flooding back until the seasons change yet again and a new flood of n00bs arrives.

But then again, I'm sure there's someone out there who views Y.T. in exactly the same light.

- David

I'm Not Being Sarcastic When I Say...

...that people can be pretty awesome.

I know I bitch a lot on this blog. I bet if I categorized my posts they would fall into either "Bitching", "Bicycles", "Bitching with Bicycles", or "Random". I don't know what it is but the last two days I've been waking up on the bluebird side of the bed and this morning I feel like giving a big mushy e-hug to the people I think are awesome folk.

Firstly (and most recently) my friend Sam. Today he woke up early and drove me into work just because he's a good guy. After we were on the road he told me he'd gone to bed after 3:30 this morning, and he was at my house at 6:15, exactly when I'd asked him to. Also last night he bought us pizza and let Kasey and I relax on his couch while we watched a movie and I had a few beers. Sam is barely twenty-one and he just finished his first week as Store Manager of a Starbucks out in Suffolk. He's the man. Besides always offering to help and being a ton of fun to hang out with, Sam is just awesome. And so cute! Cheers to Sam.

Kasey's dad is also awesome. He's put more time and resources into Kasey's car this year than some people would put into their own children. He works more than any rational person should but still makes time for us no matter how tired he must feel. He always has pop and some kind of sweets for us to eat when we go over to his house and watch sports or Nascar. He's one of the genuinely nicest guys I know. He loves his daughter and takes care of her, which I'm really rather partial too. Cheers Kenny!

Speaking of great Heights (ha!) Kasey is pretty wonderful. I imagine that it's not always pixie sticks and slip-n-slides living with Y.T. What with the math retardation and constant leg humping and all. I do talk a lot of crap about things she is only mildly interested in simply because it's me doing the talking, which actually is very sweet when you know how Kasey is. She worries about me consuming meat and meat by-products whenever we go somewhere new to eat, and worries I'm eating enough in general. (Although between you, me, and the firewall (oh I'm so witty) I probably could cut back on the munching a bit.) We may be opposites in a lot of ways, but the parts of us that come together are pretty fantastic (and wet!) and we get each other. Plus, she has a great caboose. Cheers Kasey!

My friend Kurtz is a cool guy. I gave a shout out to him in my recent Commuting Anniversary post but I'll say a bit more here. Besides being a dedicated spandex-free cyclist he's intelligent, darkly funny, and honest almost to a fault. Last night Kasey described him to a friend as being anti-establishment. I'd never thought about it before but in a way that's totally true. The man is well-learned in the art of sarcasm and conversations with him are never dull or short on laughs. He likes the same movies I like, and in my way of thinking that's almost like being in the same cult or something. Despite his rough and tumble exterior he cares a lot about his friends. He's also the only man I've ever seen steal a cross and get up in the middle of a movie to pop next door for a drink (it was the Rocky Horror Picture Show but still, it was sweet.) Kurtz, cheers!

I'm going to combine two peeps here cuz in my mind they're always penetrating each other anyway. My brothers from anothers mothers Aero and Nano are my oldest friends and comrades. While I've met Aero only once in real life I'm set to be one of his groomsmen in his upcoming wedding, which is pretty damn cool. I put both of these guys down in the one-thousand page application for my security clearance under the section of "People Who Have Known You The Longest That Are Not Your Family And Still Like You, Somewhat". Aero and I have our own kind of language when we talk online, which is a mix of Spanish, 13 year-old girl AOL speak, l33t, and other shit we made up. While our opinions on movies does differ wildly at times, I feel we respect each other's film savvy enough to bow heads and shake hands and agree to leave the dueling pistols in the box. Now this may sound weird, but if either Nano or myself had been lucky enough to be born a lady we would totally be that couple people hate but secretly envy. Nano and I have one of those strange friendships that somehow bloomed almost instantly into something deep and lasting even though while I lived in Phoenix we hardly saw each other and don't talk much now. Cheers Nano and Aero!

Even though he's a punk and moved away I'm still going to mention Jeff. Jeff, I know I owe you an e-mail! It's coming, I just have to steal some Internets first. Jeff was the bridge between my solo cycling and the poor sods I currently bug on the Portsmouth side of the river. Without him I wouldn't have joined up with the Saturday riders (which I haven't done in months, but I will again soon) or gotten my clipless pedals as soon or as cheap. Which may not sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. Those two things helped cement cycling as a Big Thing in my life. Always upbeat and mindful of doing right, Jeff makes Jesus proud. And I'm not being patronizing or sarcastic in the least. If all Christians were like Jeff the world would be much better off. Always entertaining and fun to be around, P-Town misses him! Cheers Jeff!

I'd also like to say cheers to my bike Jenny for helping me get so totally buff that if I squat to tie my shoe my pants and underwears rip like I was Lou Farrigno from the waste down. Also for getting me around on the cheap and allowing my body to partake of it's natural biological processes. She's never broken down on me and even though she gets left out in the rain, locked to fences in questionable areas, and manhandled by a clumsy, sweaty guy she still looks good. Cheers Jenny!

If I left you out, you're still probably awesome. Unless you're a dick. And if so, eat it.

- David

Ketchup

Macaframa from MACAFRAMA on Vimeo

I love Macaframa. At the beginning of the above video I figured some kind of bunny hop action would happen, but I should have known it wouldn't be that simple. I'm totally gonna try this now (and eat shit in the process.)

Speaking of surprises on bicycles, I had a few good ones this week. I dunno if it's the weather or what, but people are being assholes again. For a while there I wasn't getting honked at, yelled at, gestured at, nothing. When I first started cycling I got yelled at weekly for about a month or two. This could very well be due to the fact that I was just starting out and I wasn't doing shit correctly or smoothly. But also, it was this time last year that I started, so maybe it is the weather.

At any rate, yesterday I was slowly partaking of the sidewalk to get around a mess on Granby (which is a narrow two-way street in downtown Norfolk) caused by a power company truck blocking one lane and a city bus trying to get around it while on-comming traffic tried to decide if it was going to stop and let it or not. I was rolling along at about jogging speed or slower and I came upon your typical teen/twenties guy: Backwards fitted baseball cap, long shorts, and t-shirt by some bad that probably sucks. I was preparing a line to go around him when he turned his head, saw me, and moved over well before I was near him. I appreciated it and said "Thanks!" as I rolled by, but before the word was even out of my mouth he says something like, "...the fuck where you're going." Ooookay. I'm already gone by the time I register what people have said to me so I just ride on. Maybe I startled him and he was trying to compensate.

On Wednesday when I decided to take on the hill I've been avoiding lately, I had the pleasure of getting gassed by a pickup truck spraying mosquito poison. It had a sign on the back that warned people to stay back 100 feet and here I am, out in the world, not surrounded by my own little bubble of AC and filtered air, getting sprayed. The scariest thing somehow was that the cloud of whatever it was coming out of the back of that thing tasted slightly minty. Luckily after a few blocks the truck turned down a side street. Then the hill came. I was all jazzed to stand up and get some good burn going and had just started to do so when I noticed a cyclist in the bike lane ahead of me. A second or two later I realize he's coming down the hill.

One of the things I hate more than anything are cyclists who don't know what the fuck they're doing riding on the wrong side of the road. I'm not even going to wait and play that game where we hesitate and then both move into each other's path again. I start looking over my shoulder to see when the SUVs and rice rockets in the lane directly next to me will be gone so I can get over. Finally an SUV from Idaho gets over for me and I'm able to get out of the path of the angry black man barreling down on me.

Now, in my mind I'm going, "Fucker, you're on the wrong side of the road!" but we're going too fast and I don't like to be a dick unless it's part of some role playing me and my girl are currently enjoying, so I don't say anything. However as we get close he raises his fist and yells in my face "Get the fuck over!" Right. This doesn't even bother me like the kid on the sidewalk sorta does because obviously I did get over and I'm 100% in the right here. Which is really what people care about above all else. In a world run by rules I dictate, he would have said "Thanks for getting over!" because he had no where to go but into direct traffic or somehow hop up over the tall curb and onto the sidewalk.

Not all surprises were bad however, as I randomly ran into someone I knew while we were both on bikes. This may happen to a lot of you cyclists out there, but for me, it never does. I guess I'm always going a specific somewhere instead of "hanging out" and that lowers the probability of a chance encounter. As I waited for traffic I saw a guy named Wes go by, who's pretty much responsible for Critical Mass here, and decided to chase him. I caught up with him after a few lights and had to yell to get his attention as he was listening to music. We chatted a bit navigating through Downtown and then parted ways as he was on his way to work. It was weird to see him on a bike that wasn't his tandem or attached to a trailer with his kid in it.

On my way home a guy on the sidewalk asked me how much my bike weighed while I waited for a light. He asked if I was a messenger (I did not have my bag, so there) and I of course said no. But man, that would be pretty awesome, if for no other reason than I love riding bikes, it's fun to be outside, and sitting on my ass all day in front of a computer is getting old. Maybe one day. I wouldn't turn it down.

- David

A Year of Bike Commuting

Sunday, dear friends, marked my one year bike commuting anniversary. Woo! Apparently I set a calendar reminder and totally forgot about it until a text showed up proclaiming the event.

It's not a big thing, but I am proud. The only things I'm really able to continue doing for an entire year is your moms, so this feels like a real, albeit subtle, achievement. Kinda like, "Oh, I've been coming to this same bar for a year." If you've know me personally for any decent length of time you're aware I'm not a big goal setter. This just happened, and I'm glad.

Let's do math! This is going to be so horribly generalized that it's nowhere near accurate, but so what. It's my party. Before I got let go I was commuting 6.5 miles each way. I worked there for about nine months, if I remember correctly. So that's 2,340 miles right there. Then for months and months I was doing 24 to 35 miles every Saturday with the Portsmouth gang. Let's say I did that for... six months at an average of 29.5 miles. There's another 708 miles. All together, 3,048 miles in less than a year strictly going to work and riding on Saturdays. That doesn't count the few races, numerous store runs, and general daily dicking around I do on two wheels. Hells yeah, that's a lot of miles.

Even though it's vaguely unrelated, the recent truck-ectomy I've undergone makes my transition to the dark side feel complete. I do still drive Kasey's car on occasion but if she ever found my collection of questionably-legal "reading material" I'd be four-wheeled vehicle free. Concerning the aforementioned removal of my truck, I would like to say I paint it cleaner and prettier than it actually was. I do like being bicycle-only, but I don't like the way it went down, and I apologize to those that had to deal with it.

As other peeps online (see the Stalk Others section, stage right) have already said, it's not really about saving money or the environment (which are both good) although I admit to resorting to charts & graphs regularly when attempting to convert non-riders. Cycling is a huge complex of simple pleasures, beauty, and logistics all working smoothly together to produce a phenomenon that's just good. I feel dumb trying to name it so I'm done. Just try it. Twice. Even if it hurts the first time. ;)

In celebration I rode My Girl Friday, recently retrofitted with a front brake, into work yesterday. I want to take her out more, but she's like the hot teen-aged daughter I hope to never have: I think everyone wants to take her away from me and do horrible, horrible things. I see them eying her as we go by, leering like construction workers. Jenny is the tomboy, I don't worry about her much. We'll see how it turns out.

In closing, I'd like to thank Kasey for putting up with my ever-increasing bike dorkiness, and my friend Kurtz for being the first car-free guy I know and showing me it could be done with style and a hefty drinking schedule. Also Google Maps for only steering me wrong once out of a million routes, and all the guys at Cycle Classics for fixing my shit and giving me a place to hang. And God. Because I feel Him in this blog tonight. But not Jesus. Jesus can suck it.

- David

Vain Davey

I get off the bus.  I'm already wearing cheap rainpaints rolled up to the knees over my jeans, similarly rolled.  Two thin neoprene toe-covers are stretched over the first half of my scuffed black and white sneakers.  My helmet, huge and red and hated, is already damp from being left outside all day.  A tight black cycling cap under that.  Sleeveless wool undershirt, white cotton t-shirt.

Waiting for a break in three lanes of commuter traffic.  LEDs blink brightly (one hopes) in the heavy raincloud light.  One foot shoved into a shiny metal toe-clip with a cheap strap.  Looking over my shoulder at the white lights of oncoming cars it begins to drizzle.

Cutting diagonally across the moistened black road thunder cracks so close and loud I duck over the handlebars.  Behind me a smattering of cars approach as they float down the bridge.  The wind can't decide which direction to blow.  The air is cool.  I'm behind a line of cars, waiting to turn onto a more quiet street.

The light changes and we're off.  I consciously tell myself "Drop, drop, drop" as I drop the weight of my body down on each falling pedal, trying to let gravity boost my acceleration and save my knees.  I try to rotate my ankles just so, spreading the point of pressure over the axis of the pedal.  There are as many different ways to pedal as there are variations of people's walks.

Cars pass me, hissing rain under their glossy tires.  I eye every parked car's door suspiciously as I skirt the line between giving the cars that pass enough room and keeping some for myself.  The rain has picked up a little.  A fucking SUV pulls out of the curved intersection in front of me, accelerating faster than average, scurrying out of my way.

Rainfall ramps up smoothly but dramatically in a few minutes.  I pull over to the empty parking spaces along the two-way street.  No decent trees.  I lean my bike against some sign I can't read.  Sliding my bag off, I remove my hat and helmet and pull the now transparent cotton t-shirt over my head.  My shoes are already soaked through.  Unrolling the red rain jacket from my bag and replacing it with the wet shirt I smile ruefully, making for my eyes an overhang of my brow against the rain.  A different SUV pulls into the side street in front of me, stops, reverses, and heads back the way it came.  Jacket donned, I replace my headgear and squish my shoe into the toe-clip.  It's raining so hard it feels like hundreds of heavy fingers drumming on the flat of my shoulders.

No traffic.  Kicking off the sidewalk and onto the pavement, alive and fuzzy with the downpour.  The rain is hurting my face, tiny disintegrating stones that threaten to split my lip.  I bare my teeth in a maniac's grin and the reduced surface area of my lips catch fewer blows.  My mouth tastes like I've lost a tooth.  Warm salt water, pain, and metallics.  I pass a ponchoed figure getting into his Jeep Liberty and he yells "Woo!", grinning and holding his hood as I go by.  Woo indeed.

I grudgingly talk myself into pulling in to a cantina parking lot, crossing the rivered gutter.  My mouth tastes so salty I'm sure something is broken.  Spitting into my palm I see nothing.  Again, nothing.  It hits me:  The collection of salt in my hat is being rinsed out into my face and mouth.  Back on the road I spit to my right for a few blocks before it stops.  I half wish it was blood.  There's no angle that allows me to shield my face and see at the same time.

Ridiculously, "This Is How We Do It" plays over and over in my head as I fight the wind and what must surely be torrential downpour.  There's no voice telling me to pull over, wait it out.  That voice died in infancy a year ago.

I love this.  This is the heart.  I'm a red blur of… I can't name it.  But it's in your face, jeering with a confidence and a finality that you've never known.  Racing down one side and up the other of an underpass at over thirty miles an hour, you wish you were me.  Peering out of your minivan window with envy at my freedom.  I don't even see you.  To me you are a metal cube that may be out to get me, and you blink out of existence as anonymously as you entered it the moment you're out of my personal bubble.

My wheels glide like salmon through puddles so deep the water swamps my feet with every revolution.  I'm laughing.  Part of me is already speaking these lines.  The largest part is effortlessly rotating the sphere of my multi-layered perception in al directions, taking in detail and danger.  Exiting an empty parking lot I lock up my rear wheel with my legs and slide across the matte blacktop, barely even slowing down.

Downtown.  I run a stop sign that's there for no reason.  No one honks.  Moving through traffic and construction the natural grace of my movement overtakes me and I become the smoothest motherfucker you know.  I'm God, I'm Jesus, I'm your misspent youth well spent.  I'm everything you want to be.  I'm a bright and burning reminder of all the things you've done wrong in your life, looking down from your office window.  Look at me.  Now look at yourself.  At this moment, I am magic.

A tree branch has fallen over my path.  I tilt my head back and to the side like I was peering around cigarette smoke as I speed towards it.  Everyone is huddled under the overhangs of buildings; my way is clear of pedestrians.  I'm panting so hard nerves in my shoulders are being pinched.  After a time I learned to welcome this as a good sign.

Alone save an impatient office worker atop the river ferry I look out at the five tall cranes that service a dry-dock shipyard.  If I were any wetter I'd be twins.  If I were any more calmly content I'd be enlightened.  I'm spent.  The beauty that only comes with this physical exertion overtakes me and I turn to sit on a bench.  Removing my glasses and pressing a hand towel to my face I sob hard four or five times, my torso jumping each time.

Thus finished, I replace my rain-dropped glasses and watch the water roll away beneath me.

Chacha cha cha cha

Don't you know I love you baby?

I survived the weekend, mostly unscathed. Only got rained on once or twice, only almost fell out of my chair once or twice (lack of sleep), only had to sneak my way onto the ferry once or twice.

My training is nearly complete at work. I just wrapped up a ton of classroom time and now I'm fairly confident in my abilities to answer a phone and document it. From what I can gather, I have another week of shadowing or something, and then it's full on worky jerky. I'm only resisting the inevitable a smidgen.

I've grown comfortable enough with the public transit system to have devised my own route. Every day this week my regular bus has had a full bike rack before even getting to my stop. Luckily I can wait thirty minutes and take the next bus and only be a few minutes late, but that won't fly after training is over. So I did a little research and discovered an alternative route through a different tunnel that yields on-timeyness. True, it involves two and a half more miles of cycling in the morning, but the bus was mostly empty and the rack certainly was.

I might have a fun video to upload later today. The front desk is empty, the gym is open, and I have a video camera. Stay tuned.

- David

GOOOAAAAAL!

This guy is awesome, and he has balls. Of both kind! I love the victory run he does. Maybe every time I successfully make the ferry on time or eat shit on my bike I'll do that run.

Today is Friday. My sleep schedule is fuuuucked. I've been so physically sleep-deprived lately that my body is sore. For some reason my brain, which usually gets tired first, is up and active but my body is the one protesting. Yesterday I accidentally took a nap on the couch for an hour and a half. That's bad when you get home around Six, sleep until almost Eight, and have to go to bed at Eleven. I think I fell asleep around One and had to get up at Five-thirty. Ugh.

I got up late but somehow made it to the bus on time showered, dressed, and packed up with My Girl Friday underneath me. Nothing wakes you up like a quick bike sprint twenty minutes after coming awake. It's probably an evolution thing. Anyways, I made it on time but the bus rack was already full. I'm glad the public buses have them, but two muh-fuckin' spots is not enough. And as gas prices rise it's only going to get harder to get a spot. Yesterday there was three people with bikes waiting for the same bus, and I had to do some serious covert hovering to make sure I got my spot.

So I waited for the next bus. If I'd been riding Jenny, I may have left her. Maybe. But My Girl Friday is too purdy and I would cry a little inside if something happened to her. I walked up and down the line of idling buses, asking each driver if they were going into Norfolk. No luck. Thirty minutes later the next bus came, and after sitting across from a girl obviously bound for an office job (that I swear was staring at me) I caught the next bus and settled in for a relaxing ride with Rilo Kiley. "Salute My Shorts" (the song, not the show) made me feel a lot better this morning.

I got stopped again at the gate this morning, and after pulling my bike up onto curb and producing some paperwork I was allowed into the base. The police officer advised I had to keep my helmet on at all times in the base and added amicably, "You're saving gas money... going green." I pulled a sweet one-handed wheelie off the curb and manualed all the way to the stop light. Actually, I battled with getting my pedal flipped over and my foot in the toe-clip. Damn things.

Training is back on, have a good weekend if we don't speak again.

Piece.

- David

Pussin' Out

Macaframa from MACAFRAMA on Vimeo
Seriously. Today I was pitiful on a bicycle. Unlike any of the fine peeps you see in Macaframa videos.

Perhaps my suckiness was due to getting up ass-balls early, or the lack of any water for the entire day. Bad diet? Poor constitution? The heat? It doesn't really matter. In the end, it was just plain horrible.

Hampton Blvd suuucks for bike traffic. But unfortunately I have to take it for a few miles on the way home for work. It's an unsafe road, especially during traffic. And I'm used to traveling along Virginia Beach Blvd! But in the week I've been taking Hampton I've had more angry buzz-bys than in months of my old commute.

So I've opted for a kind of shortcut. I catch the bus for a few miles until I can get on the calmer, gentler Colley Ave and then bike from there. I could argue that I'm being safer, but a small part of me feels like I'm copping out. Whatever. It makes my commute more enjoyable.

Anyways, today I missed the bus by forty seconds. As far as this little piggy can tell they come every thirty minutes. I couldn't decide if I wanted to wait until 5:15-ish (traffic was looking really backed up, which is also why I was late) or just suck it up and bike it. I reluctantly decided just to pedal home, not wanting to get home super late. Also, I was antsy and didn't want to stand around in the heat.

Head wind + three lanes + full traffic + angry commuters = So Not Fun. I can taste the exhaust most days. A few miles in I pulled into a parking lot and decided to just wait for the bus. I was cranky and didn't feel like dealing with people's roadrage bullshit.

While I was waiting and staring disdainfully at the constant stream of traffic, what did I spy coming down the lane but a thick woman on a bicycle. "Motherfuck," I thought. There I was admitting defeat when this lady on a commuter with panniers, biker shorts, and a bright green jersey is sticking it out like a pro. Sigh.

So I manned up and got behind her. I think she was probably a little put off by this kid on a fixed gear following her for about six miles. And not only that! After a few miles I tried to get in front of her to take my turn blocking the wind (in the industry we refer to this as "pulling") but she either didn't want to keep up or misunderstood my intentions.

I get a good distance between us as I (attempt) to sprint up the bridge and then the fabulous traffic on Hampton decided not to let me get into the left lane so I can get into calmer seas. Fack. I take the next right off of Hampton so that I can catch a light or something and navigate a break in the traffic to get to my road. But wait! There's a god damned grass median in the way! Lordy.

After sprinting through a short hole in the line of motor vehicles barreling across my path I hop onto the median and wait for another hole in which to complete my maneuvers. And here comes my friend again! In the correct lane! Hitting the green light perfectly! Smooth as butter. Siiiiigh. Now I'm in behind her again, trying to keep a respectable distance but still use the power of numbers to keep traffic at bay. One cyclist: Angry, disrespectful drivers. Two or more: At least a safe distance.

Finally our paths separated and I yelled a friendly goodbye to try and show her I wasn't a freak. She seemed to understand, at least enough to smile and say goodbye back. Then I navigated my inefficient path through Ghent and finally home. Hot, sweaty, and annoyed. Probably one of the worst commutes I have in memory.

But still, I wouldn't give it up for anything. Tomorrow will be better. Oh yes. Tomorrow will be better.

Rant over.

- David

Car-ectomy

This morning a guy named Loren who works for my dad took off for Idaho in Misti, the truck I've had for about three years.

She's a good truck; I just haven't been able to afford her for some time. She's going off to my dad's farm where she'll probably work harder but get better care. I'm slightly terrible at taking care of vehicles.

It's kind of like I had this pet elephant. Or perhaps a donkey. Yeah, pet donkey is better. She was handy, and a good worker. I'll miss her a little, but I'm not sad she's gone. I just wish it would have happened under different (less damaging) circumstances.

Anywho. Kasey's dad was able to come through in a pinch and get her car all fixed up and street legal for us (thanks Kenny!) so as a couple we possess internal combustion, but as an individual the only transportation I possess comes from chains, gears, thighs and calves. Vroom vroom.

Speaking of trans-poor-tation, I've been taking the bus in the morning to my new job at the naval base. Getting up at 5:30 in the morning? Shitty. The bus ride itself into work? Pretty nice, actually. I listen to music, I sit in a clean, air-conditioned bus and relax for an hour before a short mile or so bike ride into the base and to the building I work in. Then after work I change and bike the 8.5 miles back home so I can still keep my girlish figure. If I can get access to a shower on the base, I'll bike in as well.

For the next three weeks I'm in training from 8:00am to 4:30pm, then I get my real shift. I'm hoping for something good. It's always a worry when your department works 24/7. A night shift can jumble up your whole life, and being on the opposite schedule as 99% of the world is very strange. Although it can be fun. For a while. I think four ten-hour shifts would be pretty sweet. Here's hoping.

Welp, it's gym time. And then shower. And then errands, and then, who knows? Have a good Sunday.

- David

Jim Gym Dgim

I'm not one to go to the gym. We've lived in this building for over a year now and this is only about the third time we've used it's workout facilities. I just find it hard to motivate myself to go down to a (fanless, might I add) room and exert myself in place. I'd hop on the bike for a trip from the living room to the kitchen (and I have, actually) but something about running/biking/elliptical-ing in place just seems silly to me.

That being said, the gal and I are making an effort to get down there once or twice a day for at least twenty minutes of exercise and so far we're two for two. Kasey wants to get in shape (even though I think she looks more than fine) and I'm quietly horrified that I'm losing all my hard-won returns from biking to work every day for about nine months. If I can be frank, my legs are a major point of pride for me, and even though I'm not that fast or powerful, I'm pretty happy with my current performance on the bicycle. Losing that would suuuuuck.

My gym needs a fan though. Or four. Fer real. The sweat just sits on me and does not transfer heat away like it's supposed to. So then I'm sitting on a recumbent-style machine (ugh) clawing at my clothing like it was strangulating me. I'm sure the other gym patrons are grateful for the chemical-harsh Clorox wipes provided by the management, cuz today I would have left that machine covered in David Evidence. Twenty minutes of "Performance" and I had some shaky legs. Six miles. Two-hundred and seventy calories burned. Clothes drenched.

Personally, I think a lot more people would get healthy if they started riding bikes. It is hundreds of times more enjoyable to be outside, actually moving through the air and the world, with changing scenery, than to be indoors reading a magazine or watching TV while you move in place. I don't know how people can do it on a regular basis. Conversely, I make up errands and excuses for myself to get out on a bicycle whenever I can and keep fit while eating absolute crap while doing it.

It's bed time for me. My lovely and lively assistant is lying next to me and her purdy back needs a'cuddlin'.

Take care.

- David

Heysoos Cristo

I have no energy. I'm like a fresh zombie, only doing things out of blind habit. I keep stuffing candy and fruit into my slack maw to no effect.

Hence this post. I'm just sitting in this chair, head falling back, mouth open, numb fingers flailing across the keyboard like a those spin brushes in a car wash.

The wind was shitty this morning. Twenty-plus miles per hour assaulting Y.T., only helping for about two-percent of the route. The upside of all this crazy ass wind though is people ask, "Did you ride yesterday/today?" and when you say yes they go, "Unbelievable." You can tell they're jealous. "Man, I wish I could get my ass blown all over hell and back like David." Oh you can my friend. You definitely can. The key is to only think about the temperature, not the other meteorological phenomenon.

I have $.80. It's awesome. But not really. I get paid Friday. Kasey has $20. The way our household works, this means she is now the Man of the House and gets to sit on the couch with her hand in her pants while I clean the kitchen, demand oral satisfaction, and come home smelling like cigars and cheap beer after hanging out at the bowling alley. It's a fair system, I feel. Even though when I'm in the top spot none of that stuff ever happens for me. One day though, one day!

[REC] is scary as balls. Hopefully the remake (Quarantine) is good. I had my hands up to my face and Kasey made fun of me, then not five minutes later she was doing the same thing. It's very well done, it's worth finding and watching. Plus, you get a hear a lot of SPAINish swearing, which is cool. And I can guarantee you'll never look at baggy underpants and hammers the same way. A la meirda!

I rode My Girl Friday into work today (which is the newest and hopefully lastest name for the mixte) and every time I get up a good cadence I always marvel at how smooth she is for being around fourty. This is the first big commute she's been on since St. Gordon overhauled the bottom bracket, and it's perfect. And with my recent adjustments to the seat position my knee isn't bitching anymore.

Be Your Own Pet is pretty rad. I was listening to The Slip exclusively for days on end, but now they're duking it out for play time. I'm the kinda guy who finds a new band and just plays the album over and over until someone better comes along or those around me threaten physical violence. Which, is kinda how I am with the ladies too. Hmm. Interesting. Plus, any band with a song about cycling around and being a dick is pretty cool.

Lordy. I still have an hour left.

I'm gonna go and pretend to do other stuff. Take care. Be safe. Eat it.

- David

How you like my l33t special effects?

Cheap Ain't Always A Bad Thing

Cuz if people never went for the cheap option, I'd never get taken out on any dates.

Seeing as how it's Spring and we're midway into National Bike Month, I figure a lot of people are maybe possibly thinking about considering getting a bicycle and actually trying to ride it with regularity.

To these people, I salute you whole-handedly. Way back in the day (I think some of you may have been born then) when I decided to start riding into work I was full of excitement; I was gonna save the planet, get tan, lose weight, save money, and be awesome all at the same time. And I'm here to tell you, it's even better than all that. It's not something you can tell another person, you can just try to persuade them to find out for themselves.

That being said, possible pedal pioneers, you have a lot of choices to make. Gear being the foremost among them.

Buying a new bike can be a big pain in the ass. An exciting pain in the ass, but a pain in the ass none the less. What king of bicycle should you get? From whom? Are you getting the right price? What secondary equipment do you need? I'm not here to answer any of these questions beyond advising you keep a few tenets in mind: "The right tool for the job." and "Cheap ain't a four letter word." Maybe also, "If he loves you, he'll wait."

Tell the sales associate (if you're visiting an actual shop, which I also advise) what your primary use for the bicycle is going to be. Are you going to commute to work on level, paved street surfaces? Then the knobbly tires and geometry of a mountain bike probably isn't what you need, and may very well fuck with your chi. There are a million people who commute in the the wind, rain, and snow without mountain bikes. But then again, if you live in the forested badlands of deepest Idaho you may need a mountain bike. Everyone has different needs.

Talk to lots and lots of people to find out what could fit your needs best. Go to different bike shops, look around online, talk to someone who has commuted by bike before. They will all be more than happy to talk to you about it. In fact, you may have a hard time getting some the commuters to shut up. Their experience is handy and should be considered, but taken with a grain of salt.

Now, some people (sales reps and people with a ton of disposable income) may push bicycles and products that seem way overpriced. Chances are, they are. You do not need to spend large amounts of money to start riding to work/the store/wherever. You are probably not going to be road racing alongside any Frenchmen or Italians, so you probably don't need the same bikes that they have. Carbon is cool and all, but so is eating something besides Ramen Noodles.

Bicycling is the cheap alternative to other modes of transportation. Don't forget that. Yes, you have to spend money on it, but it shouldn't be breaking your wallet.

As an example, eight months ago I wrecked the beach cruiser I'd been using to commute and had to buy another bike. With a little luck and a lot of web surfing I found the bike I've been using ever since, with no problems or detriment, for $350 delivered. This may sound like a lot of money, but comparatively it's not. Compared against the $600+ Trek bikes I see around a lot and the multi-thousand-dollar bikes successful yuppies and Disposable Incomers ride around, it's nothing. I bet if you looked around even more you could find something just as good as Jenny for even less.

As you get more settled into the cycling environment you'll invariably find upgrades and niftier, spendier bicycles and bicycle parts. When I first started I couldn't see the merit of buying clipless shoes and pedals. I just didn't see how I'd benefit from spending the money. As time went on I found they'd probably do me some good, and one Nashbar sale later I was pedalin' pretty with a new pair of Eggbeater pedals and Cannondale shoes for about the price of the shoes themselves.

Right off the bat I'd exercise a little prudence. Which is rare advice coming from me, as I'm usually an all or nothing kinda guy. Wait until you know you're able and willing to commit to cycling before you commit a lot of your dough to it. Start small and slow, and then grow as you go along. You're less likely to waste your cash and time that way. You're also more apt to enjoy and appreciate the new stuff you get.

Find a cheap bike that won't fall apart on you. If you're really on the cheap (as we've all been and probably will be again) look at eBay or Craig's List for a used bike you can cut your teeth on. Local bike shops usually have something that will do the job, and the advice and knowledge the have can be indispensable. Once you have a general idea of what you want, look around. Search online. Take your time. The more patient you are the more likely you are to find a good deal.

In closing, I really do hope a lot of people take to the streets via leg-power this year. It's cheap, it's healthy, and most of all, it's fun.

- David

Three Free Day Weekend

View Larger Map

(I realize it's now Thursday. I been a lazy poster.)

This weekend the bossman let Y.T. out of his cage a whole day early, which he spent driving to Washington D.C. to see the amazing, the adorable, the British, Eddie Izzard with the assistance and special company of his lovely lady and navigator.

He was fantabulous. It was so awesome to see this person I'd been listening to and laughing at for years and years in real life. He's currently touring for his new show "Stripped" and DC is only the second city in the tour. Check TicketMaster.com or something and see if he's coming near you. It's well worth it.

I was paying attention to an older, substitute-teacher type lady in the row in front of us who had apparently gotten there because her daughter/granddaughter was a fan. At first she wasn't really into all this weirdness, with transvestite talk and the like, but two minutes in she was busting up and enjoyed herself all the way through.

Before the show we walked around a bit of DC, enjoying the early summer weather and the monuments and memorials the area had to offer. Took some pics, saw some baby geese, sat on some benches, damned tourists and the general public, all that stuff. Then we chilled out in the truck a bit with the windows down, resting our weary feets. You can go to the coolest places on Earth, but if you don't have an adorable redhead who at least tolerates your physical presence, then it's just not as good.

We got home at about 2:30 in the A.M. Saturday morning and fell asleep around 2:31. I spent some time at the bike shop later that day getting a front brake re-installed on Jenny (added to my running tab, of course) and then Kasey and I went Downtown to have some pizza with Kurtz.

He'd recently been in an accident on his bicycle, causing his front rim to become untrueable (a word I will be copy writing shortly), his ribs to bruise, and the sheath on his big ass chain to become ripped. Luckily that was the only damage sustained. Some good news on his part though, he recently had a set of his photography and writeography (I'm on a roll today) published in a magazine. Peep it here. You can also see the fun and skill has with a camera in this set in which patrons of a Roaring 20's party on Saturday posed for mugshots. He's the guy with the awesome mustache.

Speaking of Kurtz, Kasey, and I, we had little (mis)adventure on Sunday.

I had just set out for some reconnaissance concerning mermaids and Downtown Norfolk for an upcoming race when my phone began bleeping at me. It was the woman, and she was in distress. According to her, the truck had suffered a flat tire and now there was "no space between the main part and the ground" which I took to mean it was entirely flat. The tire wasn't flat, just low. Which $.50 seems to have fixed.

After recruiting Kurtz for the adventure of biking from Ghent to Virginia Beach we headed to my office first so that I could attempt to map the second half of the journey out. Which didn't work out that well. I wrote down two separate sets of directions, and somehow we got off track on both as you can see. And it really was an adventure. Between getting "lost" and watching Kurtz expertly chuck his bike over an twelve foot fence where it landed softly on a nearby bush, I had a good time.

This post is long enough. This ending may be abrupt, but I could always cop-out and say I'm leaving it open for a sequel. Which I'm not.

- David

Construct0r

There's a fair bit of construction going on around my commutin' parts lately. I blame the nice weather.

However today I discovered for that the entire area seen above, they are resurfacing that shit all at once. Right now the road from curb to curb is raw, jagged scraped off lines that vibrate my bicycle so badly my hands begin to itch through my tape and padded gloves.

It is just me, or is that a huge stretch for a single construction crew of not more than a ten men to be handling at once?

- David

Fuckin' Hell

If you imagine what's beneath the black bar you see to your left, you'll know exactly what I feel like. The horizontal bar, not the vertical one.

So I made it to Conte's in good time and bought two brand new tubes to try and get Jamie back on the road. I had resolved to be extra careful, having decided that I was pinching the tubes between the tire and the rim and that was the cause of my problems.

I plopped myself on the couch and watched some Courage while I did my handy work.

I checked the inside and the outside of both tires extensively for shrapnel. Nothing. I checked the rims. Nothing. I chalked this up as further proof that I was a tube-pincher. I carefully re-installed the new tubes, taking my time and extra care. Everything seemed shiny.

Both tires had been fixed up and pumped up with a minimum of air. I put the wheels back on and proceeded to pump up the front tire to 110psi; which is right near the middle of the minimum/maximum recommended pressure. As the red needle on my floor pump twitched above 100, I heard a pop and all the air rushed out. My head fell towards my chest and I felt like crying and/or swearing.

I took it all apart again to inspect the crime scene, and like a brick falling falling from Macaulay Culkin's little hands it hit me: The tubes were poking through the flimsy-ass rubber strip covering the spoke holes and puncturing themselves when they got above 100psi. Which is below the recommended tire pressure.

And it only took four trial-and-errors (emphasis on the error part) to figure it out. I, am an ass.

Now I just need some proper rim tape and a couple patch kits and I'll be right as rain.

In other news, I am a cheap date. After biking my tush off against the wind, up hill and over dale, two beers of unknown kind and brand is all it takes to get me on the fence separating Tipsy and Drunk. I met Kurtz and his co-workers at Hell's Kitchen and he treated Y.T. to the brew and some interesting conversations about cyclists and weapons, cheap shirts, and cops on bikes, among other things.

At one point through my second beer I kinda sorta started to snoop in one of the lady's purses as she hunted for her wallet. All I wanted to see was what the pharmacy bottle sticking out the side had in it. As someone who doesn't even take headache medicine I'm curious about that kind of thing. I regained control after Kurtz called me out on it and apologized multiple times. The gal in question didn't seem to mind.

Then it was off home, and I was extra careful to check for large moving objects since I'd reached that stage of inebriation where everything is in 3-D Plus.

I made it to the ferry and apparently the exercise rushed more alcohol to my brain as my intoxication peaked and I sat on a bench, marveling at the beauty of the passing clouds that had seemed to sneak up on me.

You know you've found a good place to live when, even a year later, you find yourself looking around and asking yourself how you could live anywhere else after this. How could I give up the ferry, the busy river, the humongous ships that go by my window?

I'd like to move deeper into Olde Towne or perhaps Ghent, but they're pretty close to where I am now and both have their benefits. Like probably being easier on my money clip.

Whelp, I better get down to brass tacks. This week is moving quickly, it's Hump Day already! And ever since grade school, I've known what that means...

Get on it, see ya later.

- David

Let's Try This Again

View Larger Map
Last time I attempted biking to Ghent from here I got lost like crazy due to Google Maps telling me a road went through a factory/swamp/badlands when really it didn't. Google tried to lie to me again today (why you gotta lie baby? After all we been through?) but I was ready for it.

Above is the new route to Ghent, just in case something bad happens to me and no one knows where I is.

I need some tubes, so I'm stopping at Conte's to get some because they stay open late enough for me to make it. I'm doing something wrong, obviously, because I've had three flats on Jamie. Three. In the span of a weekend. One while she was flipped upside down getting the other tire changed!

I'll be quick baby, I know we gots to get you in bed.

- David

My girl is like a macchiato: Bitter at first but really quite sweet.

Cell Phone Explosion

Just cleaning out my cellular phone.

Keep it together.

- David

Who's got the crack?

Tales From the LBS

Welcome to yet another installment of how my Local Bike Shoppe is awesome.

On the way to work I noticed Jamie making a distinctive creaking sound that wasn't there before, preceeded by a definite un-smoothness when going from pedaling to braking.

Upon further inspection I noticed that the chainring could be wiggled with my fingers; the axle (or whatever that bolt is that goes through the bottom bracket. I'm no bike mechanic, obviously) was definitely loose in there.

"Shit", I thought. "I bet that means it's ruined. My massively massive legs have gutted the French bottom bracket Gordon found for me." I played around with it a bit more until I was semi-confident it wasn't going to fall out on me and continued into work.

I then made Kasey rush me to P-Towne where I found James just closing up for the night. Being the awesome human being he is, he turned the lights back on and got down to business. I do this to him more times lately than I'd like to say. Compensation is coming my friend, yes it is.

Not only did he properly... mess... with... the cone thingies in the bottom bracket, he even had to manually create a tool to do so. We couldn't find the correct sized wrench, so he took one that was just a mite too small and ran the grinder on it until it fit, as seen above. How's that for service?

Heading home, I had virtually no creaking and no axle-moving-ness. I put some torque on it once and did feel a weird slip once I got to my apartment. I got down on the floor and attempted to lift myself up using the pedal and saw that the crank arm was moving independent of the chainring. That explained the left-over creaking and the movement I still felt.

I busted out my Alan wrenches and tightened all the bolts (apparently someone had snugged them, but not tightened them down) and now Jamie is back to her silent goodness. I rode her into work again today, and everything was perfect.

Let's see Performance Bicycles stay open late and hand-tool a tool to fix your problem. Little local shops fer the win.

- David

What To Do, What To Do

Firstly, a lil' video of Y.T. doing some silly skids Sunday afternoon. Keep an eye out for the wipeout and the leg-over skid I first attempted whilst drunk. And just in case you forgot or don't know, if my legs aren't moving the rear tire is locked up:


Nextly, a map with a jagged, ugly red line showing the circuitous route I took during Global Guts yesterday. You can see a few places on the left there where I got lost:


View Larger Map
And lastly, Tempura Cheesecake, the best fried thing I've ever eaten and the sweetest brick a cyclist could ever wish to be carting around in their belly:


Now just the question remains: Which steed?


I been itching to ride Jamie (which I have recently re-dubbed the mixte) but it's rainy and ugly as balls out there. I don't know if I'm ready (or even should) subject her to grit and rain. She's just so clean and shiny! But what is a bike for, if not for riding? It wouldn't ruin Jamie, right? Nothing would be damaged, I'd just have to clean her up. Sigh. I dunno.

Guess we'll see in the morning.

Sleep good, see you tomorrow.

- David

Full Weekend

I go a lot of vitamin B this weekend: Biking, beer, bad-ass kung fu, burgers, and bruises. I feel thoroughly spent today.

Yesterday I raced my ass off as I took part in Global Gutz. Perhaps it was the eighteen pieces of sushi in my stomach, or the accompanying tempura cheesecake, or maybe the twenty-two mile an hour wind. Whatever the cause, I got my ass kicked.

For around fifty-five minutes I panted, I sweated, I pedaled, and I prayed for someone to come up along side me and offer to give me a tow. I got lost a few times. I blanked out and forgot where I was heading once. I came in second-to-last place. But it was a big assed load of fun.

Then it was alcohol, popcorn, and Pringles as Kurtz, Jay, the Lady, and myself watched The Protector. If you haven't, you need to see it. It's hardcore to the max. Tony Jaa is an amazing martial artist, and the scenes he puts together are very imaginative. Once or twice I noticed Kurtz and I were laughing so hard and long at the pure awesomeness of the action our eyes were watering. Plus, have you seen a baby elephant chucked through a window? I have.

On Saturday Kasey left for North Carolina to meet up with some friends and do some geeking out in Wilmington where a crap-ton of movies have been filmed such as Blue Velvet and Empire Records. She took some nice pics of various buildings I recognize from movies she's introduced me too. Having her gone was weird; I fell asleep on the couch and woke up cranky and confused because I couldn't find her.

While she was off doing her thing I hung out at Daily Grind and actually read a newspaper, probably for the first time in my life. Nothing good came of it, besides a kind of sick entertainment. News is so crap. Jeff and Lyle from my Saturday group joined up with me after a bit and we sat outside in the gorgeous weather with our beverages. It was fantastic. I wanted to sit there all day and partake of pastries, drinks, and sunshine.

Then Kurtz and I rode around and figured the route out, got spoke cards and maps printed, and headed to my bike shoppe so I could put a bit of money down on my recent bike build and he could look for a new cycling cap. By this time we'd be out in the sun cycling for a while, so we decided to get some food. Having the Bier Garden right across the street from the bike shoppe is awesome. After a couple beers and a burger we got a bad case of the Lazies and went back to my place to watch Ong Bak.

Hope y'alls weekend was good too. Monday is here again, but if you think about it just right, it's almost over already.

- David

Steel is for Real

Vindication will come. Just you wait.

This morning marked the maiden voyage of (tentatively named) Jacqueline, and I can only liken the experience to being, like, totally crushing on a cute girl you just met, then getting to sleep with her the next day and it was even better than you expected.

I dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt today which is a big departure from the knickers, cycling shoes, and wool layers I normally sport (although I did wear my trusty wool undies and t-shirt underneath; fifty degrees isn't balmy or anything) and the weather was gorgeous. A little bit of wind, and a lot of sun. Tomorrow is supposed to be even nicer.

As I rode, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Gordon & Crew did an amazing job. It's probably the smoothest and most quiet bike I have ever ridden. No creaks, no scrapes, no rattles. Just rubber on the road. And with the longer stem I'm slightly more upright so it feels like I'm sitting pretty on a leisurely jaunt instead of leaning forward aggressively. The seat is a comfy Fizik, and after a small amount of seat/saddle tweaking the night before it fits just right.

After months of clipless pedals, toe clips and straps are a little strange. The first time I went to take off down the street my foot slipped right out the back as I attempted to pull the pedal backwards, and I'm having to re-learn the art of flipping the pedal over as I begin pedaling. But other than that, we go together like beer and fries.

Also, I kept hearing Charlton Heston's voice in my head going, "Thou Hast No Brakes" as I approached corners, intersections, and stop lights. It's the same method I've been using to train myself off my front brake, but this time he means it. I kind of forgot for a moment as I barreled down the largest of my two hills until I picked up some good speed about halfway down and automatically glanced up to check the light. Right as I did, it turned yellow.

I giggled, stood up, and started my back tire skidding. With a weird little grunt my legs unlocked after only a moment and I giggled again while trying a second time. This time it held as I whipped the back of the bike side to side (cuz it's fun and I think it adds more friction) and stopped in plenty of time. At the second hill I was able to slow myself down by just standing up and resisting the pedals.

And even though I wasn't on my track bike in my cycling gear with clipless pedals, I still hit my eighteen mile-per-hour goal. Booyah!

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

- David

Herald! Frankenstein

Yeller and Green, originally uploaded by BodhiDave.

Oooooh yeah suckah. Behold, my first bike build.

True, I only picked things out and St. Gordon & Crew at Cycle Classics did the rest. But, I did hacksaw off part of the seat tube in an effort to get it as low as it'd go. But damn, am I proud.

The frame is late sixties/early seventies, as is the bottom bracket. The handlebars are early seventies. The rest is new stuff. I think I'm going to leave those fantastic handlebars unwrapped.

It rides so. damn. smooth. It's smoother and more silent than Jenny even. And it's comfortable as hell.

It's alive, and it's gorgeous.

- David

Global Gutz - 04/20/08 *Edit*

Click the title for more info. I'm still working out the route (and the flier), but it will be done.

As a hero of mine says, "Tell you friends, tell your enemies."

- David

Spreadin' the word, guerrilla style. The other two I put up required duct tape and timing.