AAAAGH!!! I almost forgot.....HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

This month has been so steamrollingly hectic, that I truly forgot until a few moments ago that it was freaking Halloween! For the sake of the ambulatory kiddies out there, everyone should refrain from driving (we're all getting reaccustomed to the early darkness, now), and be careful during Satan's Prime Time. I'm hoping I'll be invited to my neighbors' house and we'll all watch cheesy horror flicks and quaff cheap beer.

BTW, the Brit has taken the plunge into clipless pedals! He called me last night to ask my advice, but I had crashed really early in order to erase my sleep deficit. So far, he loves them and has yet to eat shit. I ate it the first day I had them (riding next to a horse & carriage in the French Quarter), so he has me beat on day one! However, I pegged him for someone who would NEVER make this plunge. He's pretty much the consummate utilitarian rider. Now if I could just convince him to wear a Goddamned helmet...!!!

Back! ...and so very tired

I hate driving. I despise being in cars. Traffic makes me damned queasy. This may be a result of not getting a driver's license until I was 25, relying pre-license on cycling, walking, public transportation, and bumming rides from angry friends. For this reason, I feel so unnatural riding/driving in cars, being subject to unholy traffic conditions (a fucking sickass travesty here in Chicago), let alone being cooped up in a steel coffin for FOURTEEN HOURS!!!!

Our ride to Oklahoma was pretty uneventful, save for the fact we were in a Jeep for FOURTEEN HOURS!!!! Over the course of the weekend, I may have managed to get 6 hours of sleep total, and had to be back at work on Monday. After the return voyage of 13.5 hours, we dropped off the equipment, I loaded my drums in my car, and I limped my and the bassist's sorry, exhausted asses back to Edgewater.

I rode to work Monday morning, and was met with a typically mean wind on the Lakefront Trail. But it was actually somewhat WARM both during and after my ride! AND...the southerly wind held up and I had a modicum of a tailwind on the way back home. Today, though, I am fending off a nascent head cold, and the sinusitis that results from riding in windy/cool conditions reared its gooey head during the course of both branches of the ride. I was swearing like a sailor as I got to Ardmore, but the angst was mitigated once I realized I WAS NO LONGER DRIVING!!! The Oklahoma Automotive Experience had tagged me with a wicked hangover, but the nine miles home definitely helped erase its mark. :)

Yet I had to hurry up and move my CAR so I could be in compliance with Chicago's street cleaning division. I was uberlucky to find a spot right around the corner from my house. Jesus H Christ. I really wanna sell this car (a 2000 Honda Civic 4 door), but having a reliable, totally paid for car just might come in handy at some point....right??? Or am I just foolin' myself?? But when the Hell DO I drive? I schlep my bassist to practice 2X a week (and have been telling him to score a bike), and that's truly the extent of the madness. I happily remember when I was pre-25 and didn't have the Green Badge of Bullshit (my Civic) looming over my head, demanding gas, repairs and insurance. Just my feet and my bike, almost always happy to hit the road grinnin'!

High-atus...

So, my goddamn band has a goddamn gig in goddamn Oklahoma City on Saturday. We shall depart in less than 8 hours for this ill-fated nonsense. I'm just bummed that so much of my time has to be compromised sitting in a CAR. Grr!!! I might feel better if I could pack my bike along and take advantage of OC's mid-60-70 degree weather, but no dice. Needless to say, I probably won't be writing any more o'er heah until Monday....when I once again pedal my sorry ass to the toilbox.

BTW, I have been wondering who the OTHER XO-1 owner is in Chicago! My buddies across the street said they saw a white (Read: '92) XO-1 splayed across the street in an accident (close to the Fire Station) and FREAKED because they thought it was me (it wasn't). Then a couple of months ago, I saw this guy go by me the opposite way on the Lakefront Trail. My instinct was to turn around immediately, catch up with him and share with him a geeky bike diatribe. I didn't.

Anyway, if you're reading this, or if someone out there knows who this is, let me know. I need to recruit this SOB so we can start a new gang. But someone has to lend me the ducats for the requisite "Crips-Style" doo-rags.

What the...?

My last post was much longer, but somehow managed to get truncated after that copyright symbol. Oh well. The long and short of it was that the morning's ride was windy and brutal; the afternoon's was rife with mad tailwindiness, although coupled with much harder rain and colder temperatures. I was wet, cold and miserable when I got home. Now I am kind of sore, and I don't remember the last time I was sore after a ride. I am in worse shape than I thought!

TEST:
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I...hurt....

Yesterday's commute was sweet and uneventful. There was a typical wind off the lake that made the morning's ride somewhat challenging, but a slight tailwind for the afterwork ride was pretty sweet. Someone at work asked me if it was I who dared brave the "cold" outside and ride a bicycle; even to my wimpy Southern constitution was the weather hardly "cold." Luckily I have a handful of decent warmbringer©

Tomorrow better rock

I decided, after taking CTA for a few days--Red Line to Fullerton, transfer to Brown Line to Chicago and Franklin--that tomorrow I must ride to work. Everyone at the job is wonderfully amenable and cool re: the idea, so I have no excuses!

I rode to work over the last couple of months in New Orleans pre-Chicago move. Initially, it was to save money for the move. But having done it somewhat frequently in the past, I knew how much fun it could be, and I was uberstoked to commit to it full time. And after a nightmare shit day at my ex-gig, I could turn my ride home into a much longer journey by taking a couple of extra laps through Audubon Park. These rides were definitely the highlights of my day.

In fact, it kinda pissed off my friend/co-worker (he never full-on said he was PISSED, but I could tell it affected him), who was a "lapsed cyclist": one who had a nice bike (beautiful old Raleigh Super Course), bought a new one to reinvigorate his love of cycling (a Fuji somethingsomething...105 gear and MAYBE a Reynolds frame...I fergit), yet was more than happy to drive to work even though he lived muuuuuuch closer to work than I did. However, he and I shared quite a few brisk rides on the Mississippi River levee after work and had crazy fun! I haven't spoken with him in some time and I sincerely hope he's still riding (even though I frequent an online forum that he moderates and I see that he and is are all well).

I just called my Chicago sometime cycling buddy, now henceforth referred to as THE BRIT, and he and I may ride togther downtown tomorrow morning. I'm just waiting for the call. In any event, I can't freaking wait for tomorrow. Nothing makes me feel finer than knowing my faithful steed is a mere few paces away from me while at work. Happy. :)

Just a little more for tonight...

As I mentioned before, I feel my adult(ish) cycling renaissance began when I got my Bridgestone MB-3. When it got stolen through sheer drunken idiocy on my part, I was in shock. ESPECIALLY when I learned there were no more Bridgestones to be had! I rode my roommate's Cannondale from time to time (sterile, bland), test rode some Giants (uninspiring), tried a Bontrager that was being sold for a kickass price (GREAT ride, but not enough "flash"--man was I stupid!!), and ultimately settled for a GT. Jesus. I had an OK amount of money at that time, and the bike was outfitted with some pretty nice stuff.

But after a couple of years, I realized that this was NOT the bike. For one, the LBS had fitted me all wrong--I am 6'1" and was riding a 16" frame--I looked like a fucking circus bear on one of those little bikes. At the same time, I was riding 100+ miles a week, losing mad weight, and realizing that this lifestyle was going to stick. I bought an IF frame from Speedgoat in 199something (thank you, good old student-issued credit cards!) and put as many of the GT's parts on it as I could. After a brief breaking in period, I LOVED that bike. My friends called it my "Robot Bike." I moved to Austin, wrecked this poor bike by colliding with a trailer PARKED IN THE BIKE LANE! I hit my head tube on the trailer, and the momentum apparently accordion-ized the top tube. It was toast. But all praises due IF. I called them, explained my lot, and they offered to give me a new frame AT COST. Sweet. But it was going to take a couple of weeks....

Which was a real buzzkill to me. I HAD to ride. It was my heroin (or dilaudid, if ye prefer). Luckily, I found a classified ad that detailed a BRIDGESTONE MB-3 in my size for a freaking SONG!!! YAAAAAAY!!!!! Goddamn. I test rode it, forgot how amazing these wonderfully simple bikes felt, and bought it right then and there. I threw some semi-slicks on it and was promptly tearing up the Streets of Austin. But when I'd take it in the the local shops (with one exception--a place comprised of totally cool old-school types), people would ask, "Jeeez. Can you even FIND headsets anymore for 1" head tubes?" I felt like I ws riding an anachronism, and decided to sell it to a buddy in New Orleans. I still feel that transaction was one of the worst I've been involved with. :(

Many many miles later, coupled with a knowledge gleaned from hanging around bike shops way past closing time and passing out reading Sheldon Brown's site, I came to the realization that I DON'T NEED THE CYBERBIKE. I have an appreciation for what some of these new gizmos do, but in the grand scheme of things, I don't see them improving my cycling lot. I have bar end shifters, and can't imagine that employing the SIS whackadoodles makes that much more of a difference in the sheer enjoyment of cycling. But if you have 'em and love 'em, then God bless. But the vast majority of my life has been spent with friction shifting/downtube shifters/thumbshifters; as novel as I see the "improvements" are, I just can't afford/justify chasing technology. I see folks on their Litespeeds (not a diss) with a fully indexed SIS Dura Ace (not a diss) out riding and it sure as shit doesn't look like technology is helping their rides! ;) In fact, they look like they are in abject agony and can't wait to get back home and recieve their creatine enemas. Maybe that last part was just a wee diss.

I may just delete this post. I started with one concept, got sidetracked, and realized that I totally rambled my way through this.

Damn you, WIIIIND!!!!

Perhaps I should save this invective for a longer, more thought out post. But maybe I should just let some things go!! When I was doing a pre-work ride this morning, the wind was screaming from the west, making it an apparent omnidirectional headwind! AAARGH! The worst thing, though, is that when it's cool/cold I can't ride in any modicum of an aerodynamic position because when I lean over and the cold/wind assails my schnozz, I become a snot factory and the junk just leaks out wantonly.

Sometimes I think that a crosswind the entirety of a ride is infinitely worse than having a mean headwind just half the way. Is there any real bearing to my quasitheory? Does the wind slowing the wheels down from the side do more velocity damage than wind slamming you from the front? In any event, this morning I felt like I was on Quaaludes, biking through molasses, trying to overcome a thick, unyielding slab of atmosphere.

New day, new job/winter bike advice

I was offered a pretty cool gig last week; however, upon more consideration, I realized that I would be making even LESS money than I was making in New Orleans! ACK!!! Not that I'm totally mercenary, but having plugged away in this (Virtual) field for almost a decade now, I have a pretty good ballpark estimate of what my madd skillz be worth. In any event, my new employer and I were able to work out some pretty equitable terms (only having to eat shit for 30 days) and, if today's any indication, it's going to be a fun ride. In fact, I asked if I could bring my bike into the office (I'll be damned if I'm leaving the XO-1 locked outta my sight, even if it's in a sarcophagus!!!) and the response was copacetic. My man said "we'll FIND you the room." Pretty cool, eh?

So, I need to ask some advice. I have a really nice mountain bike (IF Deluxe built up with some nice, durable parts) in New Orleans. I have been scouting Craigslist and the like for an appropriate Winter beater. But considering I have a strong steel steed I could readily ship up here, I am leaning toward winterizing the IF. Now, how does steel and winter conditions get along? Unfortunately, the frame has a significant amount of rust (surface, mostly), so I am rather paranoid in subjecting to more corporeal abuse. But it IS a big, bad mountain bike, after all. Sigh. Also, I was given a '85 Trek 650 that has a bent top tube a couple of weeks ago. Ostensibly, I got it so I could replace my Bianchi's wacked rear wheel. But the Trek has nice ole Shimano 600 parts on it throughout, and all can be scavenged by me, except for its 165 cranks and weenie lil' stem, so I have been looking for a frame to throw these parts on. But at this point, I am unsure how to direct my energies.

The IF can be shipped pretty cheaply; it's missing a rear wheel--I appropriated its old one when the XO-1's stock Araya went kablooey (now I have an 8 speed [11-23] on the Bridgestone--run on friction--who wudda thunk it--I've always been content with a 6 speed freewheel!). So I could buy a decent rear wheel for a negligible cost. But if I build up a bike with 700c wheels and all that Jazz, would I be able to find a good, inexpensive frame that would have fender clearance? Ye gods, the mind rightly boggles. And hell, at the same time...I wanna do BOTH. And knowing me, I will have both the IF and some frightening frankenbike sitting in my hallway in a month or two. But what a sweet obsession, n'est-ce pas?

Ye olde colde

My band played a show last night, and, in lieu of getting paid, we drank for free. Woohoo. I managed to chat up some chick I had my eye on since she entered the bar and she was super-cool. A journalism major who was amazingly bright, informed, ATTRACTIVE, and didn't seem to be turned off by a drummer in a sweaty shirt. When I had to get up and go to the bathroom, I got accosted by well-wishers and other bandmates and was long in returning to my new friend. She was gone when I got back. :(

Anyway, I didn't wake up until 10:30 AM--well past normal--and was totally hellbent on riding (2 wheeled penance in this case). The temperature was 40 degrees with a 15 mph northwest wind. I eschewed the oh-so-normal route of the Lakefront trail due to the fact that wind on the lake is a total motherfucker. It's the path of most resistance. And I really don't dig having a wind in my face on the entire return voyage home (I live on the north side of Chicago). Well, since I had to head west to get to the North Branch trail, I was rocked a bit by the gusts. But I managed to stay mentally afloat by the mantra, "At least it's not the lake..."

My Louisiana constitution has been fortified by living in the tundra for a year and a half. I used to ride in New Orleans when it was (rarely) in the forties with a simple helping of Blackbottom tights and a kickass wicking longsleeve undershirt. However, even so amply armed, I had a threshold of about an hour. My hands and feet would become antagonistically numb and ultimately force me to return home. So, I expected today's ride would be no different. Well, over an hour into the ride I was feeling freakin' STELLAR and decided to stay out for a while. I ended up doing about 32 comfortable miles and ended up at my friends'(and feloow New Orleanians) place where we supped on Old Style Light and homemade Salibury Steak with Bobak's appetizers. These sumbitches know how to live!!! ;) Oh yeah, when we went to Jewel to get gusto supplies, I was still wearing my bikey costume and I felt riiiight conspicuous. Ahh, the hell with it.

Forgive me, but I have been right girl-crazy these days. Hell, not that this is abnormal! When I was approaching the end of the North Branch Trail, I saw 2 profoundly gorgeous women on nice bikes stopped on the opposite side from me, clad in da togs of those "in the know," and who gave me nice, enthusiastic responses to my "Hello! Howarya?" query I offer to people I pass while riding. It made me feel pretty good. Thank you, my unknown female compatriots. I hope y'all had a badass day of riding.

I am full and tired, filled with sick tumult due to my imminent first day on a job tomorrow. Soon, I wanna detail my ride with the "Columbus steel lovers" ride that happened yesterday morning. And BTW, my healthy bike is made o' Ishiwata....!

Draft not lest ye be drafted

I went for a long, meditative ride today, thinking about a job offer (cool gig, waay less money) while doing so. There was one of these weirdo Chicago winds that never appear to be a headwind or tailwind--just one of those freakish omnidirectional blasts that grind yer ass down after a while. Well, while forging through the gusts, not once, but TWICE did someone come from behind and draft me. If folks reciprocate, I can hardly mind, but more often than not when this happens, when the opportunity arises, these chumps blow by without even any words of thanks. The second guy who was behind me gave me a funny look when he passed me by the aquarium; I had stopped to blow my nose (Goddamn cool weather and constant wind give me brutal sinusitis) and this neon avenger rode by me--maybe the site of a big dude in a Husker Du shirt atop an old steel bike struck him as funny. So he DID kinda smile, in a goofy, "WTF?" kind of manner! Well, I really don't have enough venom to maintain this quasi-rant, but just let me assert:

If you roll up on someone and draft him/her for any significant amount of time:
RETURN THE DAMN FAVOR.
If even for just a little bit.
Seriously. The Time Trial Gods won't condemn you to Cat 5 for all eternity or someshit.

Soon: my rant on cyclists who don't smile or ever acknowledge you.

Christ, I'm lazy....

I decided to set up a blog to document my random blathering about all things bikes a couple of months ago. In the meantime, I lost my sweet freelance gig and have been inordinately preoccupied with finding a new job....therefore forgetting my "obligation" to blog, brag and blablablah about cycling. In any event, I feel that I can laugh again. ;)

I was born and raised in Baton Rouge, LA for 15 years; unceremoniously dragged into the badlands of Indianapolis (more accurately: its cracker-ass Northern 'burb of Carmel) from 15-20; retreated to what I KNEW at 20 to New Orleans; gathered some sweet skills (including, but not limited to the nunchuks, web design and grooming a sweeeet moustache) and relocated to Austin, TX; got bored, moved back to NO and got employed with a quasi-bigwig Internet Co.; realized the cocksucking douche who ran the place would never stoop to improve my lot financially, so I moved Goddamn BACK to the Midwest---so here I is--CHICAGO. But I'm pretty much digging the Hell outta it so far...except for the shitty weather.

So, what, pray tell, does that blistering preamble have to do with bikes and the like? Fuck all, je pense. But actually, the vast majority of my life has bent spent as a non-driver. I didn't get a license
(driver, that is) until I was 25 and was fortunate enough to inherit a car from MY LITTLE SISTER WHO IS 8 YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME. Hee hee hee. Biking was ALWAYS a part of my life, and in Baton Rouge in particular, it opened my eyes up to interconnectivity of cities and let me knew that even the most "remote" of locations are ultimately and easily accessible without being at the helm of 2 ton killing machines.
My first bike was a single speed Raleigh that I reluctantly clambered aboard at/about age 7. Most of my friends had been riding waay before me. In fact, I was so scared of falling I told myself, "who needs this shit?".... but I may have not used the expletive. Anyway, I had cousins who were a formidable cycling posse: 4 guys who all rode bikes under the badass aegis of their parents who took the family on cycling tours around the state. These suckas had 10 SPEEDS....OmiGODDD!!!! Damn, I got jealous. My stepfather ultimately modded my Raleigh with a kickass old-school beercan shim and some old parts into a sweet 3 speed bad boy. Unfortunately, this bike got stolen in a fit of teenage poor judgement. Krap.

But I just had to imitate my next-older cousin and get a C. Itoh like he had; had I known this was an early output of Bridgestone it may have made my nascent BOBish bones quiver. But in any event, it was my first, legit multi-speed ride, and I rode the living fuck outta it. In fact, I convinced my mom to let me ride it when I was 9 during a nasty-ass Southern Lousiana downpour so I could by the X-Men graphic novel "God Loves, Man Kills." (I have a weirdo recall memory) However, I sidetepped her sage advice and rode on the busy street (Highland Rd. between W. Washington and Chimes St.) where I got slammed into by a legally blind man behind the wheel of a 4 door deathbox. I was fine, my bike was finished. I ultimately got an insurance check for my poor mangled steel wreck, and was able to purchase....

A FUJI.

Fuji. FU-ji. FOO-GEE. The damn name fit in my mouth like a retainer in a pimpled teenager. The Fuji name and its provenance got thrown around lovingly by my biking family (cousins and Baton Rouge Bike Club), so, GoddDAMN, I KNEW I had a class ride. Even after my mother allowed me to ride in the aforementioned minor rain, I was able to talk her into riding my sweet Fuji to school. You have to understand, this was through a pretty rough (read: poor undt black) part of Baton Rouge. Understand: I'm no racist; but when I used to jog through my neighborhood (this fat kid was FORCED to jog), I got mugged and attacked several times. So I knew hard times lurked out there. But I had a new fast bike. ;) While all the kids boarded the school bus for the hour-plus forced march back home, I'd proudly hop on my steel steed and make it back home in 20 minutes or under...just in time to catch Voltron.

See: back then, bikes just represented FREEDOM, and the ability to circumvent what the rest of the throng HAD to subscribe to, to just make their way. And having and loving my bike made me wonder why the Hell so many of my friends had to live so far away from the city in these sterile cookie cutter huts that looked like they were pressed from Play-Dough molds! These guys had to ride simply AROUND their 'hoods instead of traversing the entirety of Baton Rouge (or, at least, what I knew of it). That empowering sense of two-wheeled freedom got ultimately reinforced when I rode over 60 miles to Baton Rouge from a "Biking Camp" at Camp Ruth Lee when I was...younger.

Jesus. Enough of the Sentimental Journey. Fast-forward to 1994 when I get my first new bike since Godknowswhen. Getting consumed by the mountain bike craze of the era, coupled with wanging out my skinny alloy rims on my Nishiki Olympic on the Mean Streets (SHIT! Van Halen/Fair Warning is on right now!) of New Orleans made me decide that it was time to get FAT. Fat tire FAT. Treads, yo. I headed to the late, lamented Bikesmith on Freret in New Orleans, and after a sweet test ride, fell in love with the Bridgestone bikes. The MB-4 I rode was quick, relatively light, and amazingly responsive...not unlike the Nishiki I was currently riding. (A quick aside...I had the opportunity to grab a '92 X0-1 at a fucked up bargain price but declined due to my newfound "zeal" for MBs...grrr!!!) So, with my family's unorthodox method o' gifting (a "try before you buy" kinda manuever), my shiny new MB-4 greeted me that grey Christmas day; however, the size was TOO SMALL and I found I hadda run the seatpost above the max insertion line in order for me to be comfortable. Crap!!!!! Luckily I was able to return the bike and upgrade to a previous years' MB-3 that was my faithful lil' buddy for years before I stupidly left it unlocked in front of a good old New Orleans convenience store/crack epicenter. When I found out Bridgestone pulled out of the American market in 1994, I wanted to die....especially after riding "replacements" made by Cannondale, GT and Giant.

Jesus. Who do I think I am? Tolstoy? Enuff of the backstory. Soon I will tickle ass with feather through more in depth cycling tales from the bayou, desert, and the ventis urbis. And if you're not careful, you might learn something before we're done. ;)

--Jason