Back in the day (not the fixed gear back in the day, which was April, but the real time, with only a hint of irony back in the day) when I was a bicycle messenger, my dispatcher barked today’s post title at me over the radio. I assume it to mean that once I got moving on whatever banal subject happened to be my flavor of the day, it was impossible for him to break in and actually call out jobs.
(Obviously neither of these people are me. It’s Squid and Carlos from Cyclehawk, and I would be lying if I said I was ever mistaken for either of them.)
I of course wasn’t the only one who was guilty of using airtime for my own forum however. As my company’s team captain Andy once said, “they send a bunch of kids out all over the city on bicycles with high powered radios. What do they expect would happen?” This was a time when the irony of mullets was still thick, and as such, any time someone saw a really good one, they would announce it to all who had their ears on. If there was a particularly good deal on sandwiches at some random deli for example, this was just as important as the dispersal of jobs. Generally messenger companies operate with one dispatcher to a small number of riders, but the way we worked was a system called ‘free call’, (not to be mistaken for ‘free ball’ which is another conversation all together) wherein one dispatcher would read a laundry list of jobs to all messengers employed by the six-odd companies that operated out of the office. Each messenger would build a run, but if another messenger called for a job that was from another company’s client, the rider employed by that company could call them off the job and so on.
I was terrible at this, and would constantly need each job paged to me so that I wouldn’t forget what I was doing, which happened with the same frequency as me actually calling for the job.
What this has to do with anything is very little, but as I sat down at my desk to begin today’s post, those words rang in my head, and I began to once again reflect on the content of Tuesday’s post which was of course, finally finding a forum for the abundance of non-sequiturs screaming through my head.
Had the opportunity to continue engaging in web log duties not presented itself, I most assuredly would have ended up being the guy on the park bench screaming to the sky about donuts, fire engines and some guy who works for NASA.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. It’s just really hard to make a living at it.
Fortunately for me, I also have people like Andy who add fuel to the fire with videos like this;
Which obviously walks in lock-step with this one that the estimable DPow! from Portland Design Works sent to me;
I only wish I had received this sooner, as it was just a couple of weeks ago that I was cornered in a dark alley by a length of rope and a big block of ice and had no defense against either of them.
“That’s what a great sword is all about. Deep penetration!”
I’ll drink to that.
Not that rope attacks, deep penetration or drinking have anything to do with this next bit, but Amigo Number Four just took delivery of his brand new Blue Collar road bike that was built by Amigo Number One and custom powder coated by none other than the geniuses at Spectrum Powder Works;
And the finished product?
I want. I really, really want.
So it appears as though Amigo Number One has got his frame building machine up and running again. Though the url of the old Blue Collar site has long been absconded by someone making those god forsaken moped kits, if you really had your heart set on one, get in touch with me and I’ll see if he has any interest in squeezing such a project into his schedule.
While we are on the topic of misanthropic frame builders, Chris Igleheart made contact to let us know that as per his usual state of being, he is, as the kids say, “holding it down”;
Here is a snap of me on the newest version of a fixie, as in why not go for tradition if you want to be a hep-cat?
Actually it is an 1880 Colombia of Springfield Mass, from a great collection of amazing vintage bicycles in Manchester, by the sea, of the late Bill Burrows. There were six 1880’s high wheelers, the original “wheel” in the parade;
I must say that bike was old & the spokes rather loose so it was a fright to mount( it’s nick name is “the yellow peril). Pedaling up hill was a bit challenging as the whole thing flexed, wicked, but hay it was still a blast to be riding a 130 year old bike.
Keep up the good work,
It’s good to see that Chris was wearing the requisite argyle socks, though there is no word as to whether or not he was successful in his eventual attempts at ‘bar spinz’.
Another brethern of our two wheeled ilk is Yuri the super honch, from Marin Bicycles fame, who got ahold of me with thanks, as well as an unsettling bit of news from the highways and byways of this great nation;
I hope you are doing well. Two things: 1) I can’t tell you how excited I am that Bobo got me an AHTBM kit for my 40th. I think it will be the perfect kit for riding “unnatural” trails in Marin. 2) As if cyclists didn’t already have enough to worry about while riding, although we don’t tend to ride on interstates, comes the news that a big rig driver choked on pork rinds and lost it in a ditch.
Keep on keepin’ on.
And there I was foolishly think that the only things truckers choked on were No-Doz and bits of dissected prostitutes.
And again, it’s a terrible segue, as Michael from Idiom Sweatshop presumable knows nothing about choking on hooker parts, but he did get in touch with me a few weeks ago with photos of his latest art installation on Vail Pass;
Have I mentioned before what a huge fan I am of the stencil medium? When I lived in Oakland, I made several, which I tested out on the sidewalk in front of my flat. They were nowhere nearly as complex as Michael’s, though I was proud of them just the same. Eventually someone else took note of my display and began including their own (much, much better) additions to the collection. Last I saw however, the whole set had been sandblasted away and was nothing but slight discolored patches on the pavement.
Though with the receipt of Michael’s email, I’m thinking that it might be that the time for me to get my index finger calloused and dirty might be upon us once again.
Or in keeping in tune with guerilla art, I could just go with the wheat paste route;
Finally, while touching on graphics of a low brow natures, I will once again direct you to Minneapolis’ own Stroker Ace Screen Printing. The hearty soul at Stroker Ace not only has a wide array of palatable designs for which to wear across your Herculean chests, but is responsible for the production of the various AHTBM shirts as well.
What better way to stick it to the man, then to wear a subversive message on your front side?
Also, I wan’t to publicly thank Cobra Commander for his tireless efforts in getting me my own captcha down there in the comments section.
The only down side is that I won’t be reminded a hundred times a day of various wig sales and new Russian porn sites.
It is with that, that I say “happy whatever day it is to you, and all hail, my friends.”
The boulder just stopped.