And the games begin

Today was poised to become a reprise of the worst ride ever, but the rain was ultimately just a minor annoyance, with pedestrians providing the majority of my woes! How can a city of this size have so many people who are so painfully oblivious to their surroundings?? Anyway, I switched back before leaving Downtown to run by Kozy's before heading back North in order to score a new rear fender, but due to the nature of my skinned bank account, I have to hold off on "frivolous" purchases until my next paycheck (which will hopefully come tomorrow). My backside is still spackled with funky grit.

So, with about three miles left of my post-work ride, the wind did a brutal 180 degree fuckaround (the dreaded tailwind to headwind smackdown), the temperature dropped substantially, and I just had to limp sorely home. Part of me was saying "Welcome to the Midwest" and another was chiming in with some pretty amazingly inappropriate comments.

I checked the weather to substantiate my bitching when I got home, and it appeared I was correct. And the new wrench got thrown into the works: the threat of a "Wintery Mix" come tomorrow. Now, I don't fear the cold, but the idea of making my way through a potentially icy slush on 26"x 1.25 tires freaks me the hell out. But here's the map that's causing me so much consternation:


Sigh. My 'morrow's commuting plans are in Limbo at the moment. I may brave it, just to gimme a welcome introduction to cold-weather riding. But I think my inherited balaclava has cat hair and funk all over it. Can WooLite pull off a miracle?

The most wonderful ass-kicking!

I got an unexpected day off and and was hell-bent on doing way more than my commuter miles on an oddly sunny, mid-50's November Chicago day. Yet once again, the lake wind--Jim eloquently elucidated the principles--handed me a painful smackdown on the way down south. So I screwed up my courage and became determined to keep riding 'gainst the wind until my nose and surrounding face became too chafed from noseblowin'. I also wanted to have a lot of room to stretch out and enjoy the tailwind home!

However, due to the circuitous, winding nature of the Chicago Lakefront Trail, one often gets a stunning, slowing wind regardless of what direction the rider is going. But the tailwind was MASSIVE at the point of the trail that starts at Ohio Beach(?) and I was able to slip into a rarely-used tiny rear cog. I felt good zipping along at a mad pace, and then I heard someone tailing me. The next thing I knew, I was being passed by a friendly rider; I extended a "How ya doin'" and he responded more than cordially! Awesome. But then I also noticed he was (probably) a commuter, heading home on a FOLDING BIKE!!! How kickass is that? This uber-affable power station just zoomed by me and extended the gap in no time. Wow.

I'm not really that competitive a person, and think I fit into a nice niche of "brisk tourist." When someone zooms by me like that and is so friendly, it actually makes my freaking day. I look forward to seeing a lot of these same friendly faces as I entrench myself in Chicago commuterdom.

(But I also like seeing the amazed faces of neon-clad, plastic-mounted road warriors as I keep pace with them with my fat ass and "slow antiquated hybrid.")

Calling all amateur climatologists

For the last 2 weeks the winds, both favorable and the pain-in-the-ass variety, have been profoundly strong. It seems that any time we are in between seasons (Chicago is on that cusp of winter and WINTER) the winds really strike up and deliver the brutal goods. Is this because different weather systems are vying for control? Are the globe's weather patterns kicking up a stir (warm below he equator, colder up here?)? I noticed this pattern in New Orleans, but to a much lesser degree.

In any event, the wind after work was actually favorable and from a direction that didn't cause any undue brutal crosswindage. I ended up catching up with a roadie and allowed him to be my "Pace Car." I don't have a computer or anything, and I assumed he was keeping a pretty good clip up. I stayed 2-3 bike lengths behind and just kept my eye on him. The amazing tailwind kept us racing along the Lake, and even after a stop at a neighborhood bodega, I made it home faster than I ever have. I generally eschew mad pace-age after work, but the brisk gale made it impossible to resist!

P.S. Having a southern constitution, Winter in Chicago is WINTER. Or, taking a cue from badass '80's metal bands, W.I.N.T.E.R. (many bands, a la W.A.S.P., were prone to abbreviation syndrome) Or, especially W.I.N.T.E.R.y days can be made more chillingly descriptive with the addition of umlauts (Motorhead or Motley Crue). In my perfect world, winter in Chicago would be abbreviated like above, with an umlaut over EVERY LETTER, and spelled in a nearly unrecognizable speed metal font.*



*The above ramble made a lot more sense and struck me as infinitely more humorous when I was riding home ;)

Sun. AT LAST.

After having been under the thrall of oppressive grey skies for about a week now, that old rascal The Sun decided to make a grand appearance today, and was it ever nice! When I woke up I happened to see a peek of sunshine coming through the shades and that alone ripped me from a nice slumber. Fueled on high hopes and too much caffeine, I hit the road a little after noon.

Well, the sun's presence was more than welcome, but it was coupled with my mortal enemy: the dreaded Chicago wind. However, it was a colossal tailwind on the Lakefront Trail heading South; in fact, it was so strong that I basically ran out of gears to achieve a cool speed/cadence/comfort level. A 50 tooth front chainring with a 12 tooth rear cog(I think) was still not enough to keep up with the brutal gusts! I managed to get from my house in Edgewater to Navy Pier in a little under 25 minutes!

I didn't want to head super far South, however; the notion of facing such a supreme headwind all the way home was a turn-off. I detoured through the city and did a Wells St./Lincoln Ave/Halsted boogaloo so I could avoid being slammed head on by the formidable gusts. Then I popped by Peformance. While I rode today I had a nice base layer on, but a longsleeved cotton shirt, and the wind and cold were cutting right through the top, so I decided I needed a windbreaker of some sort. I knew that Performance had some pretty affordable ones, so I picked one out--along with some wool socks--and went to check out. There was some kind of special running today, so the total on both was about 60 bucks. BUT...I somehow did not have my credit card and ended up leaving with nothing, leaving myself to be chilled to the Core by the tumultous atmosphere.

Now, allow me to say that I am an ardent supporter of small, local/neighborhood bike shops. But today, the necessity of a windbreaker (along with meager funds in the bank) outweighed my modicum of principle. I occasionally buy from Performance/Nashbar/etc., but I definitely do what I can to keep the "little guys" afloat. It's what I grew up with, and feel a lot more comfortable having that kickass one-on-one interaction.

A fallen friend!

I called the Brit when I was leaving work yesterday to see if he might want to ride back to the neighborhood with me. No answer. I tried again when I got home, and he answered, and let me know that he got hit on his bike on Wednesday night! He was coming back from a local bar (pub, in BritSpeak) and was smacked down by some hapless driver. His bike was okay, but, after a visit to the famed Chicago econoclinic, he was diagnosed with hairline fractures on his shin. He's unable to ride or even work (he's a waiter) for a week, and we just got back with arming him with tawdry bargain-books from the Brown Elephant.

Here's to a speedy recovery, my friend!!

Groovy gear

It appears that when it rains it pours, and when I sit in front o' the Mac to detail all things bloggery/bloggish/blogesque, I can't seem to stop. I find myself reigning the longer posts in before I inadvertently compose my own "War and Peace." With fewer Russians.

Anway, I was trying to think about all the nifty bikes I've owned throughout the years, and all the ones I currently have--although a couple are 1000 miles away from me. My first multispeed ride was a C.Itoh (precursor to my Japanese bike fixation, methinks), until I got slammed by a car and was able to buy a Fuji with the insurance money. I doubt the Fuji was anything terribly impressive, but the cache the Fuji NAME alone carried impressed me. I finally outgrew that one and bought a Nishiki Olympic (I think) in 1986. It definitely served me well, got shipped to Indiana when I moved there, and finally made its way to New Orleans, where its skinny lil' rims got waffled and shredded all to Hell by crappy N.O. roads and my (much more so back then) absurdly ample frame (my fat ass).

When I finally tired of destroying rims, I figured that the mountain bike hype had some credence--I could tackle the lunar landscape that is the New Orleans streets with nigh-impunity. I scored a Bridgestone MB-4 at Xmas time, but it was too small, and I was able to bring it back and upgrade to a sweet, blue MB-3 at a negligible cost. This awesome beauty got stolen, however, and by that time Bridgestone had gone out of business so a replacement was not in the cards. A GT Karakoram just didn't cut it for me.

But I did manage to log close to 5000 miles on the GT. I knew that cycling was FINALLY back in my life to stay, and I stupidly (in that who-gives-a-shit, naive post-college way) bought an IF Deluxe frame on a credit card from Speedgoat in 1998. I built this guy up with parts from the GT and some other stuff I had laying about. Goddamn it was sweet. I wrecked it when I mpoved to Austin and IF was badass enough to deliver me a replacement frame at cost. I still have this bike and it sits in New Orleans, waiting to shipped to the tundra and be my winter bike.

Before I moved to Chicago, I saw on the Chi Craigslist that someone was selling a Colnago for a totally affordable price. I snatched it up! But after riding it for several months, I realized it was too small for me, especially with it's undersized top tube/cockpit, and sold it to a cool father/son team who were on the scope for nice bikes to buy.

I ended up finding a Bianchi on Craigslist, and it was completely in my price range (Well, the cost of the newly-sold Colnago), and my size, and the picture made it APPEAR celeste...so my heart was all a pitter-patter. It rode great, but the seller said the seat post was the improper diamter, so I'd have to buy a new one. Also, it was NOT celeste, but a aquamarine blue-ish pallor that was pretty common on mid '80's bikes. Not bad, however. It's a Brava model, Japanese made, and has all 105 "under the hood." The seat post I bought ended up screwing me, though, because now it's STUCK in the seat tube and my LBS says that the seat post diameter was TOO BIG!! AAARGH.....

Feh. Throughout it all I have had my Bridgestone X0-1. I bought it almost 3 years ago from some guy in Portland and it's been my favorite ride of all. It's technically too small for me, but with some clever diddling, I have made it comfortable. When I moved to Chicago I had it on my car's bike rack, and it FELL off the rack several times, with the handlebars slamming into my trunk with a mean, heart-rending THUD. I went for a ride early into my Chicago tenure and I felt the handlebars bend and finally tear from the stem! The metal fatigue from repeatedly slamming into my trunk obviously ruined the bars. I got the XO-1 up and running a few months ago (end of summer) and wondered why the Hell I had been riding anything else!

And through alla that, I bought another MB-3 a few years back, but it's regrettably too small for me (18"). It sits back in the Crescent City, waiting for me to make up my mind as to what should become of it. I'm really thinking about getting shorter so I can have some cool bike to ride when I go home. ;)

Wind...My arch-enemy

I have been pretty much wussing out from riding to work all week, for one reason or another. But I have been reading Steve's blog about commuting in Chicago, and he has inspired me to quit being such a wimp. Thanks Steve!

But the first thing I do in the morning, and this is out of total habit--is to check weather conditions before a pre-work ride. However, now these same conditions are a ON THE WAY TO WORK ride, and certain conditons can be daunting. 90% chance of rain with rainfall expecting to accumulate over an inch freaks me out. I was caught in that jive last Friday. This morning's forecast called for mean, 30 mph+ gusts from the North in the afternoon, but I really felt up to the task.

30 mph winds piss me off, especially if they are in my face on the trek back home. That was what I had to look forward this afternoon. I usually ride on the lake, but winds are at their most brutal out there, so I opted to ride down Franklin-Chicago-Wells-Clark-Home. Wow! What a difference that made! It was still profoundly blustery, but I could imagine what being along the lake must've been like. Plus I was bale to draft big, unwieldy vehicles quite a bit. Now, if any of you other Chicago-based riders would care to comment on today's gales.....

Well, I have never lived somewhere where wind plays such a dramatic role in the quality of my rides. Austin could get pretty gusty, and the Mississippi River's levee route could fuck me up now and again. But I think since I rely so heavily on clinging to Lake Michigan's swanky bike route, I am basically inviting the soulblasting gusts into my 2-wheeled reverie.



I'd still rather get "blown" than drive, though!!!!

Postscript to below entry

I received a call after soon I got home and dried off. My neighborly New Orleans gang was wondering if I had actually made the ride in that nonsense! And this included the Brit, who sagely opted to commute by train on Friday. Needless to say they thought I was nuts and I also may have been called an asshole. Been called worse, though. We ended up drinking cheap beer and rum 'til a somewhat reasonable hour....making my decision not to ride yesterday a little easier. ;)

Though P(New Orleans neighbor) and I ended up walking all over the Diversey/Clark/Halsted area for several hours yesterday. He was heading that direction to buy some hi-tech apparatus and I was hell-bent on buying a rear fender for the bikes. So we combined forces. I waited on the fender, though, because I am between paychecks and figure I can make do with a muddy ass (BAD IMAGERY!!!) and silt-spackled legs until Friday. I am also finding it interesting that my bike-strong legs are actually a little sore today from just walking a few leisurely miles.

Worst. Ride. EVER.

By and large I have been enjoying my commute to and from work. Despite stiff winds and semi-chilly weather, I feel that, when I am on my bike--not in a steel coffin or packed into the train--there is no place I'd rather be. However, my obstinate nature won out over good sense on Friday.

The weather forecast called for a 90% chance of rain. It seemed fine in the AM, so I risked it. And I also figured that if it really came pissing down in the afternoon, then I could throw my bike on a bus or the train for the way home. Well, it didn't seem like it was raining all that hard after work; but I failed to take into consideration I was among really tall buildings and the elevated train tracks--these diffused the rain quite a bit! After just going a bit north, I realized that the rain was a helluva lot stronger than I had figured, and the light was so dim that visibility was really sucking.

Well, it took no time at all until I was totally soaked and freezing. And the winds were howling (30+ mph), throwing sheets of precipitation against me and the bike. And this coupled with my less-than-adequate visibility meant it was sloooow going getting back home. I stopped at Jewel for a wee respite (and to buy some beer) and was told that I could bring my bike inside. That was cool as hell! However, when I went back to grab the bike, it was gone!!! I didn't know my heart could beat that hard. But the kindly security guard who let me put it in the entrance in the first place had moved it to the bread/pastry area, and waved at me to let me know all was well. WHEW!! I was ranting like a madman when I finally returned home, and I am convinced my cats thought I was insane.

And the funny part is that I was carrying a Mac keyboard that was given to me at work to replace the one I fried when I GOT IT ALL WET (coffee debacle) earlier in the week. The simple sack I carry my clothes (and the keyboard) in is pretty slight. I figured the new keyboard was ruined. Luckily, it only got a little damp and is now working fine! Thus explaining my abililty to write this all out...

Tale of 2 bike shops

I had meant to go out for a nice, long weekend jaunt this morning, but got sidelined by several factors. First off, I am STILL getting over this lungbusting head/chest cold, so the low-ish temps along with the ubiquitous Chicago omniwind threatened to turn my body into a phlegm fountain. I can only spit up and blow my nose while riding SO MANY TIMES. But adding to the nonsense was the nefarious creaking saddle. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the bolt that tightens the seatpost around the seat tube was whacked--the Allen key "imprint" had been basically stripped away after years of use--so I could no longer properly tighten it. The creaking I was hearing was a result of the flexing of the seatpost against the frame (I think).

Now that I'm working downtown, I have been scoping out LBS's near to my work. When I ascertained the source of the Devlish creak I was pretty close to Downtown, so I decided to ride over to the shop that's right down the street from my office: Kozy's. I went there briefly on Friday but had to leave pretty quickly after I received a phone call (I hate being "That guy" on the cellphone). They have a overwhelming, wonderfully prodigious stock of all bikes fancy & new; I hate to say it, but the place reeked of Corporate Overlords and I set up a wee bias against the store. But I'm not really in the market for a new bike (unless my Madcap Heist scheme works out so's I can get a Rivendell) so I can basically ignore the visual cycle onslaught. Well, when I stopped by today I went right to the service counter in the back and was met with a totally friendly guy. Before I even told him what I needed, he nodded at the Bridgestone and said "COOL bike" and we proceeded to talk bikegeekspeak for the next several minutes. The Hell with my bias. I will see this place again.

Oddly enough, Kozy's didn't have the part I needed to make badnoisegobye. So, I put my lengthy ride on standby and rode all the way back to my neighborhood LBS...where they are currently trying to extricate a stubborn seat post from a frame. I'm normally met with a helluva lot of enthusiasm and whatnot, but it must've been a bad day. Back in the repair area, everybody was working away to a badass punk soundtrack (I heard Bad Brains, Descendents, Dead Boys, more!) and I thought that it must be highly killer to work on bikes while set to a slamming punk rock tunescape. Well, everyone was rather low-key surly and kinda blase, and the manager even lost the female part to my seat post binder bolt. And he even seemed (to me, at least) a bit cross to a mother and her teenage son who had to weigh the options of truing a pretty shot rear wheel and buying a new one. Weird. As awesome as I think it must be to spend a lot of time with bikes, I have to also realize that these guys ARE just guys, subject to shitty days (and even shittier customers, I wager) and sometimes this will reflect in their dealings with customers. Even the customers who are in there several times a week!

So rather than say anything or be pissed I merely skulked away, knowing that I'll catch them on a good day sometime soon (I hope). I assumed that the seatpost bolt combo was gratis, but I'll mention it when I pick up the Bianchi.

Calling all experts

I had intended on shipping my sorely-neglected IF Deluxe up here to the soon-to-be tundra, but thanks to my unholy, unhealthy addiction to Craigslist Chicago's bike ad page, I may have reconsidered. Someone is offering a "Pre Trek, CroMoly Gary Fisher Tassahara (sic)" for a real reasonable price. Now, the Brit rides a new Tassajara, and it's certainly a bike that I wouldn't be that down with; however, it is spec'ed with some pretty reasonable componentry (Deore LX, I think) so I am wondering what the early '90's models came with. I've been trying to hunt down info online, but when you search "Gary Fisher", you get inundated with every peripheral thread under the sun. So if anyone knows what the early '90's, pre-Trek Gary Fisher Tassajaras are all about, please let me know! Hell, even if I get no responses, I am fairly certain I will check it out anyway.

A new route

Kinda inspired by an article I saw on Jim's site, I decided to take it way the Hell easy after work, meander through an alternate route, and stop by A Nearly New Shop to prowl for a nice old frame to slap my inherited mid-'80's 600 components on. The guy who owned the place was nice and cool as Hell, and we shot the shit for a bit. He had a Miyata frame that was pretty cool, if not a wee bit too small for me. There was also a GORGEOUS Raleigh International coupled with SI Brooks saddle in the back, with a sign on it boldy declaring "NOT FOR SALE!" Niiiice bike. It was his. Well, this was a place I had been meaning to pop by for some time, and I will certainly be back. No definite finds today, but it'll be fun checking in from time to time. The owner said he was in the process of getting the space cleaned out/up for the winter (think wall-to-wall bikes, many up to eye-level...a bike geek's wunderland). I am also considering putting a road bike buildup on hold so I can concentrate on getting a mountain bike sent up from New Orleans and built up to combat the Chicago winter.

Many of my friends/acquaintances are already calling me crazy for biking through these "low" temperatures, and I LOVE IT.

Douchebag, thy name is Richman!

Alan Richman's name has been getting tossed about in gastronomical/foodie circles lately because of his so-called "New Orleans bashing" piece he recently wrote for GQ. I haven't read the piece, but just got done listening to the aural equivalent: his GQ podcast (http://men.style.com/gq/features/podcasts). Never one to skewer or hang someone before reading his/her words, I settled back with an open mind and open beer and took all that good, good stuff right in.

Well, the guy basically maintains that New Orleans was "never one of [his] favorite cities" and that the cuisine had always left him basically cold. In fact, he asserts that people, by and large, would be better off seeking what their version of "great" New Orleans food is in South Carolina! Now, I don't wanna disparage South Carolina-- I've been a few times, and God bless a state with a real BBQ "Style"--but it certainly doesn't have a true indiginous cuisine like Louisiana has. Hell, if you think about it, Louisiana may very well be the only state that can claim that title. And don't get into the intricacies of Chicago deep dish, Philly cheese steak, etc. Arguments will abound so stay offa my Goddam back. ;) In any event, Richman definitely starts with a bias and does very little to erase it.

And for such an esteemed figure (he's head Dean muckety-muck of the University of Someshit--sorry I forgot the real position) he has his facts fucked-up wrong. On one hand, he states that Cajuns left Canada (right so far), then settled in NEW ORLEANS (huh????), but then later explains that NO isn't really Cajun country and one needs to go a bit Northwestward to get to the heart of KajunKuntry in Lafayette. And in almost the same breath, he claims Cajun food is "kind of" Canadian! Oh, my apoplexy.....

And like any defensive traveller, Richman chooses to dismiss the traveler's guide and ask the locals "what's good?" Way to go. That is certainly the best approach. However, I wholeheartedly doubt that ANY local in New Orleans told him to go to "Louisa's by the Track;" Liuzza's (Lie-OO-za's) is a fairly cherished NO mininstitution and the mere fact of being born within a few miles of the Mississippi River grants you the gift to pronounce the restarant's name phonetically. In the podcast he even admits that he speaks the restaurant's name for the first time aloud! How diffucult was it for him to ask his local advisor, let alone the RESTAURANT IN WHICH HE WAS EATING what the name of the establishment was?? Pfft. In any event, he actually LIKES this place. But I can't seem to recall "light BBQ sauce" on BBQ shrimp there--it's traditionally butter, pepper, worcestershire, and a lil' Elven magic in every bite! NOT BBQ sauce.

So finally he asserts that New Orleans desserts are "second rate" and points to what may be the Big Poobah of NO desserts: Bread Pudding. And he basically shits on the dessert because it is entirely too heavy and "makes no sense", just like a cheese course (which kicks total ass and is FABULOUS). HHrm. I mean, there must be a reason that Bananas Foster (a New Orleans item) is replicated in just about every city in America? SOMEBODY must enjoy these New Orleans desserts! Too bad it ain't him.

I'm not saying popularity equals long-term legitimacy. If so, we'd be discussing the meter of Justin Timberlake lyrics instead of the imagery and Edmund's treachery in King Lear. But Goddammit, some things hold the test of time and New Orleans food is defntely one of them. I think this Alan Richman cat is undoubtedly knowledgeable, but he entered his "journalistic" endevour with a total bias, and can apprently not be swayed from his position. And he, at one point, claims that he "thinks [he] understands New Orleans food." (paraphrasing here...or maybe I'm making it up). Pfft. So it goes. It was just really hard for me to see some jagoff (I'm learning Chicagoan, can you tell) kick something I love when it's down.

Do you smile?Can you talk?

I meant to drop this nugget a while back. Somewhere during the genesis of my cycling days, I decided to wear a goofy grin and say hello and acknowledge all cyclists that I may see while out having fun. My reasoning being that if people walking/running/driving would see a carefree idiot cycling about, filled to the unholy brim with joy of the bike, perhaps this would encourage the onlookers to experience 2-wheeled salvation for themselves. This was well over 12 years ago, and the goony rictus I wear on my face is now total habit. I'm certain I garner my fair share of weird looks while out riding.

Now, the thing is, as "serious" as I am into cycling (I have the requisite asshole spandex, jerseys, roboshoes, etc.), when I cross paths with other hardcore cycling "brethren", they RARELY reciprocate my hellos or even acknowledge that another cyclist is even around. Christ Jesus. These people look like they were FORCED to be on the bike!! I NEVER see these folks smiling, and in fact, it seem that they can't freakin' wait to get home and collapse in a heap of lycra and sweat. Oh well. :( Is it wrong for me to demand that everyone lighten the fuck up and ENJOY the bicycles that he/she owns?

Dammit. One day when I learn how to organize my thoughts, I'll figure out how to crowbar in a rant regarding how STUPID athletic apparel looks into the above musings. I wear a lot of that silly-looking stuff purely out of function, but GodDAMN does it make me feel like a Cylon sometimes! Do my cycling shoes REALLY need to be yellow and blue? Do ANY shoes need to be bright silver with 962 velcro straps?? One starts feeling like a missing extra from "The Wiz."

Took a steed in

Today was day 2 of staying home sick from work. Generally I enjoy an unapologetic Hooky Day, but I have been legitimately waylaid by a mean-assed head cold that makes my dome throb when I sit or stand upright for any period of time. I was tempted to ride--now that I've been riding to work I haven't done any over 20 mile rides in a while--but I seemed to recall that riding with a cold "up above" isn't a killer idea. And what with the wind whipping about at 30 mph coupled with 33 degree temps, I decided to say "fuck it" and just ride on my inside trainer (ugh!!) instead. And THAT still made my head leak snot.

However, I didn't want to stay inside all day so I brought my long-neglected Bianchi to my LBS in order to get the stuck seatpost addressed, as well as to swap the new rim's freewheel for the old, tight cluster. I haven't ridden the ole steed in several months and am looking forward to hopping on again soon! The guy who organized the Columbus steel ride a couple of weeks ago mentioned that I could now "hang" with the riders on the aforementioned ride; I told him that the Bianchi was Japanese and was built with Tange tubing, but I think the NAME of the manufacturer alone allowed my entry into said sacred steel sanctum (alliteration kicks ass). I still feel kinda weird about that. The Bridgestone is Ishiwata (quite Japanese!) and kicks all sorta ass over the Bianchi, in my overweight opinion.

Finally, with the end of daylight coming so infernally early, I realize I need some lights to make the brief ride through downtown Chicago a wee less angst-y. Any recommendations for a nice set of forward/rear lights that won't set me back a ton? Also, the moustache handlebars don't allow for a great number of mounting possibilities, so I was going to slap a light on my helmet. I appreciate any and all responses! Maybe I can score a nice set before attempting the Evanston Critical Mass tomorrow evening.

Pic posting test

I was cleaning out my Yahoo inbox and found some totally stunning pictures of Hurricane Katrina over Mississippi that my mother sent me about a year ago.















I had to resize these and send them to a server that I have a website on. For some reason Blogger isn't allowing me to upload the images directly. It's still weird seeing these pictures, because not only does it remind me of Katrina's impact, but also of the dark space I was in through the hurricane's aftermath. And I was lucky! I moved from new Orleans 4 months before Katrina hit.

Mo' bitchin'

I deposited a check via the ATM at my local Washington Mutual branch last Wednesday evening. Apparently the bank can indiscriminately hold a check up to 11 DAYS is they feel something might be awry. So, what I'd like to know is WHY THE FUCK IS SOMETHING WONKY ABOUT ROUTINELY DEPOSITING A CHECK IN THE ATM I ALWAYS USE?? Or a tamer query might be: where the MOTHERFUCK is my money??? I have 7 bucks in my wallet and 3 bucks in laundry change on my computer desk. This whole business is screwing all things up. I desperately need to outfit me and the bike with lights for the commute...now that darkness comes so regrettably early. Boo.

BTW I woke with my head swimming in phlegm and emailed in sick to work (another result of having no access to my money--MY PHONE GOT SHUT OFF!!!!!). However, I may just disregard all common sense and take a nice mellow bike ride. AWAY from the brutal gusts that dominate the Lakefront Trail. Or maybe I'll just skulk off back to bed......