During every one of the 100 or so bites I took out of this masterpiece, I couldn’t help but feel slight twinges of guilt, as I had a doctor’s appointment last week during which time she told me that I have at least another four weeks off of the bike while my hand continues to recover.
However this isn’t say that I hesitated in the least while piling the food either on to my plate, or into my gullet, but the thought of emergency crews being dispatched to the house in order to remove one of the walls so that I could be extracted was ever lingering;
So it has finally arrived.. I am one of the many bicycle related journos (I use the abbreviation for ‘journalist’ very loosely, mind you) who writes about the bike world, but who doesn’t actually ride. There is no way that I will dare to spend more that a minute writing commentary about the mind numbing (as well as ball, ass and and other ball numbing) hours on the rollers I am reluctantly standing before, but as I’ve reminded myself many times since this news was delivered to me, I’m not the only one relegated to the tortures of riding a bike indoors, as the majority of the country is currently locked in winter’s icy grip and have to do the same due to geographic location rather than physical incapacitation.
Six of one, and a half dozen of the other.
My said physical incapacitation seems to have manifested itself in a return text I recently sent to Jim from Vecchios;
Then again, when I get a text from a 303 area code, regardless of what state of mind I’m in, I would respond in kind.
But lucky for me, regardless of what sort of time I’m spending on a bike (or not, as the case may be), I always have the mail bag to fall back on, and I can live vicariously through the adventures of others.
Like for instance, this recent email from the lovely and talented Niki of Mobius Cycle letting us know about an upcoming bicycle related athletic endeavor they have cooking up in the Northland;
If any of you all make it to this, make sure to grab Cory from Dank Bags hand and give him a Portland highfive for me. I think he likes them.
He’ll be easy to spot as he will be the only one riding a Street Machine;
Then I got this email from Sarah;
So riddle me this.
Dude’s a “computer programmer and mountain unicyclist” who forgot to save his blog post about how/why he made this thing;
Computer programmer. Fucked up a blog post.
By Sarah Brumble.”
It’s the ‘Tandumb”.
Did I just make that up?
Or, how about this kinda recent one from from Kris, in which another attempted beer hand down is described;
First off, the blog is always appreciated.
I hadn’t heard of anyone out in North Carolina working the beer hand up and decided that I’d represent at the NCCX finale in Winston-Salem this past weekend. So, with jersey pockets loaded with beer, I made my way. One handoff didn’t work so well. I made the pass alright, but did it as I was going into a lefthand descent from gravel into mud. The results, while not personally pleasant were apparently fun to watch;
Another handoff went equally weird inasmuch as I handed a Budweiser to a bewildered spectator who didn’t know what to do with it. (How do you not know what to do with a beer?) So, next lap around, he opened it up for me and handed it back. Fortunately, I know what to do with beer and commenced drinking right away as I took on the next lap. I ingloriously took the DFL, but did so with a beer in hand, so I figure it was a wash. No one told me I was ruining the event for everyone.
I was wondering if there was a technique issue to this hand up thing. Would a sky hook lob have worked better? Any advice?
Have a swell weekend.
I’m the last person to look towards for advice.
We may not have polished the hand down, but we pioneered it, and at this point, that’s good enough for me.
So, I can no longer ignore the elephant in the room. Did you all have nice Christmaseseses?
Were you good?
Did Santa bring you some street cred?
That’s some brilliant marketing right there.
When it comes right down to it though, you have to be honest in your marketing practices, which is exactly what I’m striving for with my new line of hair care;
My slogan is “when yü look güd, yü feel güd.”
I expect it to be a hot seller on the shores of New Jersey next summer.
For my part however, I was the recipient of a book called An Illustrated Life, which is a compilation of selected artist’s sketchbooks that was put together by a man named Danny Gregory.
Contained therein is a broad selection of work from some of my favorite artists, most of which was probably never meant to be seen. It not only appeals to the artist in me, who most of the time these days has been sitting in front of a blank canvas scratching his head, but to the voyeur in me as well, simply due to the fact that this book gives the reader an opportunity to take a relatively unabashed look into the private lives and creative process of each individual artist.
That being said, since I was very young, a traditional art viewing experience has rarely captivated my attention. I’ve always felt that the real action occurs either within the artist’s studio, or the confines of their journal, so it goes without saying that I was immediately immersed within my gift’s pages and have yet to come up for air.
While I have alot of love for my new gift, I’m not entirely sure it was enough to keep me from feeling envy when seeing what super honch Yuri got for his efforts in being a good boy this year;
I hope you are well. I enjoy reading your diatribes-keep it up.
I thought of you immediately (does that mean I’m gay?!) when I opened this quasi gag gift of PBR from my wife on Christmas morning.
The unicorn “love and togetherness” was the icing on the cake.
Have a good weekend.
The only thing that would make that gift better would of course be a AHTBM cüzie, as it takes alot less than a twelver of PBR to make a person black out with their sack out.
I know this because I’ve lived this.
Alright everybody, now has come the time in which we pull the rip chord and float peacefully back to earth. We will be seeing you in a few days for the last post of 2009, which is sure to disappoint.
Over and out.