And this guy is the first to de-board.
“Who is this dashing young gent?” you might be asking yourself.
Why, this is none other than Marko. He is a racer of bicycles, brother of others who do the same, and one of the friendly voices you might hear if you were to call The Planet of Bike. In an effort to find out what is happening with the good folks who help keep the lights on here, I contacted him and asked for the skinny.
To that, he responded with this;
Amidst the constant freezing and thawing that is Wisconsin, PB is hunkered down, feverishly working away on some new and exciting dodads. Most notably, our fully curved (lengthwise and side-to-side) bamboo fenders. The fittingly named Grasshopper Fenders should be available this spring or early summer. We’ve got a couple of other commuter/touring-esque products coming down the pipeline as well. We’re just a week away from the annual Frostbike at QBP in MPLS. Always a good midwinter break and a good chance to be a chatty Cathy with all of our dealers. That’s about it right now, just chuggin’ along, doing that thing we do.”
I couldn’t help but notice that he made no mention of ping pong, as I am well aware that this is an activity which keeps the winter driven insanity at bay on the Bike Planet, but I take this to mean they may be busy with their noses to the grindstone.
And speaking of winter driven insanity, I also got an email from Surly Andy.
“There have been no recent Surly exploits. For example, I submit exhibit A, lovingly entitled kLNun04UVos2r0tnOh80wdz801 500.jpg. This is not something I created or know who did. I simply found it on the internet and like it. I don’t think that counts as an exploit;
I have also included a picture of a piece of cheesecake from Germany that time I was there for SSWC. That was like 6 years ago;
The news, such as it is:
It has been a cold, long winter here. Lots of snow, lots of stoic Midwestern silence with stiff upper lips, which is harder than it sounds. Spring, is “right around the corner”, which sounds nice but
doesn’t help much.
I saw 3 hipsters recently in my neighborhood who looked as if they’d raided the tomb of some clown golfers. They were walking their skinny tire fixed gears because one of them had a flat.
Finally, check out that chest tattoo! I believe that’s Sov in the picture;”
Also, from this very same neck of the woods come everyone’s friends at Handsome Bicycles and their absolute anti-inductry throw down that’s occurring this coming weekend;
He’s a Cutter, she’s a Cutter, here’s a Cutter, there’s a Cutter, wouldn’t you like to be a Cutter too?
See now? That’s what it’s like to have your finger on the bicycle industry’s pulse.
Feels good, don’t it?
Is it even more news out of the frozen Midwest you crave? That’s good, cause I have a doozy (or is that a düzie?)
Regarding this next bit of amazingness, I was going to pen a piece as best I could, but there’s no reason not to just take it from the horse’s orifice;
“If you’ve spent any time around the single speed dirtbag scene, you’ve probably witnessed the high-powered, rocket-fueled shenanigans of one Dan Cheever/Stan Beaver. Dashing Rod Stewart döppleganger by day, liver product tester by night.
Well approximately 8.5 years ago, during one of said Wednesday Night product testing sessions, ol’ Stan Beaver decided to take a little nap. You no-nevermind that his chosen spot for respite was in the front yard of some unknown western Mpls suburban locale. When Stan woke up, his beloved pink (real) Salsa™ single speed was awol, and from that day onward we always wondered where it ended up. Well wonder no more, ye fans of bicycle recovery stories.
At Sunday’s Twin Cities Bike Swap I was busy setting up my table of highly desirable bicycle detritus, when my retinas were assaulted by the unmistakeable Pepto Dismal® pink of Stan Beaver’s Salsa, now just a frame+fork+stem. Wasting no time, I rushed over to the table, half carnival barking, half demanding “WHO’S GOT THIS PINK SALSA!?” A father and son team piped up. Their price tag said $500 obo, and the dad said he had bought it at a police auction, “10 years ago.” “More like 8 years ago,” I replied, and I told them that I know the original owner, giving them the run down on the “situation.”
While it was obvious that these two hadn’t played any outright role in the Pink Lady’s abduction all those years ago, I made a pact with myself that it was not going home today with anyone other than one of the Mpls Mafia. And certainly I was not going to shell out $500. A few twats, emails, and calls were put out trying to track down Cheever in Portland. Eventually we got connected and put the “seller” in contact with him.
After some, uh, “negotiations” (involving Geno agreeing to give the young kid a deal on a frameset that he was essentially hoping to buy with any “pink proceeds,”) I handed dad $200 cash, grabbed the frameset, plus the FSA crankset off his table which I recognized from the original build.”
First I have to give thanks to Soulcraft blog for letting me pinch this bit, secondly I have to give thanks to The Mafia for stepping up, and thirdly I have to give thanks to Stan for being such a crappy drunk to allow this saga to have taken place to begin with, for without his unscheduled nap nearly a decade ago, today’s blog post just wouldn’t have that much meat to it.
Finally, I’m going to button up with an email from Frank;
“This goes well with your rubber mask fixation. Actually, this is a very cool, and very twisted, slice of life documentary.
As for your alcohol abstinence, I am down with your struggle to a degree. I was to a point in the fall where I honestly couldn’t remember a day that I hadn’t had a beer or 5. I also had a pretty glorious black out session while at a work meeting in Boulder. This coupled with a few other national level throw downs have gotten me the label of IMBA staff drunk. Being potato boat Irish, true (as opposed to recreational) alcoholism is never that far behind. So now I make sure I have a least one day a week that I don’t drink.
I also realized that my Straight Edge tattoo was old enough to drink recently. Fuck, I’m old.
Yeah, like I said, there have been times in the past which were a little tougher, but this time around is a walk in the park..
And also.. The documentary that Frank sent is long, but really worth it, and got me to thinking about Monday’s post.
I certainly don’t profess to understand what would drive someone to dress up in a woman’s artificial skin, or commit to a long term relationship with an incredibly expensive sex doll, but I don’t disparage anyone who does. If no one is getting hurt (unwillingly), then I couldn’t give a flying fig what a person’s kink is.
As I told Frank, I was concerned that by posting those photos and links on Monday that I would somehow be seen as putting myself above that segment of the population and pointing my finger accusingly like some sort of sideshow barker.
I’ve expressed many times in many capacities that I simply am fascinated with the extremes that people go to towards achieving satisfaction, be it physical, spiritual, or emotional, and when I come across something like that, which I suppose is well out of my zone of familiarity, my initial reaction is to post it. Not to look and laugh, but really to stand in awe.
..And then go on about my day knowing that no matter how hard I try, my random fetishes will have to be content to always play second fiddle to the greats..
Alright folks. We’ve touched on just about every point that Wednesdays desire. We might as well play this one off with Tommy falling down a well;
That’s too bad.
Here’s to a non-cohesive end to a non-cohesive post.
Non-sequitur, non-sequitur, non-sequitur.