Another week has come and gone and with it, lots of opportunities to eat sandwiches. Not only that, but every new day opened a chance to have some kind of adventure.
My favorite adventure that I had this week was one unlike any I’ve had in a few years. It first started out with me throwing a sweaty leg over my cross bike while doing errands and exploding the crotch out of my favorite Ben Davis cutoffs. No matter, I’ll deal with it later. After dropping a cüzie and some stickers off at the Puppet Master’s house, I was on my way to visit The Skipper when I saddled up along side a street painting truck at a red light. The fumes that were belching out of the truck were giving me (more) brain damage, so through the red I went. Upon breaking this law I heard a commotion and the unmistakeable sound of a cop car alerting me to stop. Having no such intention, the game was on and I peeled off into a side street with him baring down fast. I zigged and zagged, eventually taking refuge in a warehouse that makes sailboat sails under the watchful eye of the man behind the machines, Patrick.
Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Hey, if I bring you my pants as soon as the heat dies down, can you stitch these up for me?” Being the scholar and gentleman that Patrick is, he obliged and I made a mad dash to find some temporary replacements.
I saw the cruiser creeping, so I broke left, ditched my stuff and changed clothes, returning with my drawers for a rapid fix, and then I was off with The Skipper for smoothies.
Just another day at the office.
Since I don’t have a decent image of a cyclist evading THE MAN, I’ll just throw up this cover from a 1993 issue of the zine I co-produced called ‘Get Off My Wagon’, depicting one PHT getting squirly to the right of OPD’s finest;
Come to think of it, one of these days I might scan the entire issue and use that as a post unto itself.
These next images have gotten alot of milage the last few days, but I might as well get some use out of them here as well.
Cheever’s found a new vocation;
I think a spangly bodysuit just might be Cheever’s color.
I mentioned at the top of the week that my new AHTBM kits have finally been designed, and as badly as I want to put an image of them up, I am going to wait until I can get the bibs finalized and then shove the whole thing down your throats at once. While I do love my current selection of bike clothing, I am absolutely chomping at the bit at the idea of finally wearing my own imprint.
Jim at Voler has the master file, and now I’m just waiting on the revisions. Suffice it to say, it will end up looking something like this.
Though they are nowhere near as dashing as the Shifter Bikes kits, they would fit in every bit as well on this simi-epic that Dan and Andy recently embarked on;
With rides like that, those guys are speaking my language.
Getting lost in the woods tends to be second nature to me, though recently I’ve been having more adventures of the static kind. Monday I made my way back up to them thar hills to continue with my patch work.
It would seem as though there is a general sense of entitlement in regards to riding the trails around here, and as such, people who are willing to take a bite out of their rad-getting time are far and few between. Sure, you can’t swing a cat without hitting a bunch of people bitching about how Specialized Bicycles has huge organized rides in these parts, never once lifting a finger to help regulate the damage, but of all of those who are doing the bitching, I see very few doing any work. Either way, the work needs to be done, and armed with my folding saw that’s exactly what I did.
As I mentioned here a couple weeks ago, this is what I started with;
And a bunch of hours, a small case of Poison Oak, a bag of chips and a sore wrist later, this is what I’ve got;
All told this ended up being about 30 feet of trail patched up two to five inches at a time. Once I was finished there I moved on to a more highly traveled locale;
While a majority of this slight span of trail is in good condition, as you can see by the tire tracks though the grass, the bog in the foreground would soon stretch across the entire width that I’ve covered. Plus, there is a dry entrance to the trail about twenty feet to the right, so hopefully people will suck it up and not be lazy.
Just beyond this location I found more bog, and over it, more branches;
Again, you can see numbers of tracks around the mud hole that will ultimately result in a huge swamp. By providing some sort of foundation, it is my hope that people will stay on the trail and allow the tera firma around it to absorb the abundance of water, until the Spring rains pass and won’t be so susceptible to damage.
Just this little bit of work took about eight hours and countless passes with my little saw. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, but my fingers are crossed that maybe a few other people with take my lead and ultimately we can get a handle on this before the damage is completely out of control.
Whoever said I wasn’t a closet hippy was totally lying.
There is another group up here in the Republic of Northern California who not only care about the well being of the trails, but have an equal passion for throwing outlaw events on them. That of course would be the good people from The Soil Saloon. Well after their last event being squashed by THE MAN, they’ve gone further underground with their newest offering;
Suffice it to say, if you know, you’ll go.
So hey now.. Let me ask you a question.. Do you read The Cycling Inquisition?
It’s smart, it’s funny, it’s irreverent, (I just learned that word) and best of all, it’s endorsed by Museeuw himself, shown here looking a little worse for wear;
Like I said sometime recently, I don’t like bike blogs, but I loves me some Cycling Inquisition.
Finally, in news of the fancy pants road racing world, everybody’s favorite squad Ritte Racing (seen here looking around to find out who farted),
had a stellar weekend at the Valley of The Sun road race, trouncing all nay sayers with victories soundly achieved. Sadly their celebration was short lived once they found out that teammate Terry Crouse suffered a devastating crash on a descent in the Pine Flat road race;
I don’t pray, and I never recommend that people do likewise, but if you could keep Terry in your thoughts and send him all of your spare warm fuzzies, I’m sure he would be receptive.
On that note, I’m up and out. Have weekends that are fit for kings and we will be catching you on the other side of whatever.