Ritte Racing is pro, and long;
Captain Lanolin sent me a couple of pre-edits of that clip a few days ago, most assuredly to get my stamp of approval, but if you know me even in the slightest, you’re aware that I have two thumbs permanently up for them.
I would like to get a limited edition steel Bossberg however. As Loudass mentioned the other day regarding me riding not a Bossberg specifically, but carbon bikes in general, “(I) would turn the thing into dust.” The root of this observation I’m not entirely sure of, but I can say that in the last handful of years, I’ve broken two steel forks, and three steel frames from ‘just riding along’.
Maybe the secret is simply to just get a little less fatter.
And maybe while I’m at it, a little less older. Case in point? During a recent barrage of back and fourth emails with some of my long time compatriots, Amigo #4 brought this gem out of the wood pile. So you get some idea of the street cred that we bring to the table, just bear witness to JMac doing a beer handup at the 1996 Sea Otter Classic;
Key leash on wrist? Check.
Budwesier in the can? Check.
Woolie Swobo cap? Check.
Pendleton buttoned up, cholo style? Check and check.
We invented the game and then wrote our own rules for it.
At least we think we did.
On Wednesday’s post, which went up on Tuesday, and will from this point forward be referred to as ‘W.P.W.W.U.O.T.’, I mentioned a muscly bruiser named Luke. Well, old Luke co-owns the tattoo shop in San Francisco where he works called Seventh Son. He happened to be so tickled by his appearance here on our site that he invited me to partake in an art show that’s opening at his shop on Friday evening;
The party kicks off at 9:00ish, and promises to be a good time.
Of course it will be an epic game for anyone who likes to play ‘one of these kids is not like the others’ as all of the included artists will assuredly be handsome tattooed tough guys, who each have contributed pieces in some way referencing tigers. Then there will be me, who is not, and has not.
Mostly I just plan to be drunk.
Not that mentioning even a single time I’ve ever laid pencil to paper makes me think of art that doesn’t suck, but a chip I’ve long had on my shoulder is an Austrian artist named Egon Schiele. I first discovered his work in a library in Berkeley when I was but a wee lad. His vision, as well as his particular skill has long laid the groundwork for my own brand of mark making;
There are a myriad of fascinating facts surrounding this man, the chief among them was that he and Adolf Hitler both applied to the Kunstgewerbeschule (Vienna Academy of Art) at the same time. Egon was accepted and became great, while Adolf was rejected and became mad.
As a much younger man, I was traveling throughout Europe and with the remaining shrapnel in my pocket boarded a train to Tulln, Austria where he grew up to finally see his work in person for the first time. Entering the train station (where his father once worked), there were drawings he had done as a child, lining the walls. Armed with only a backpack, a skateboard and a sketchbook I made my way across town to find that the gallery was closing. Taking pity on my disheveled state, the host allowed me entry and pretty much gave me the run of the place.
I’ve long heard of people being brought to tears by the mere sight of Mark Rothco’s paintings, and though Rothco’s work never had even a slight effect on me, once inside the halls of Schiele’s domain, I was instantly overwhelmed.
In my limited experience, this is the true call of what art is intended to do.
As far as art bringing one to tears is concerned, it should do so because of it’s sheer power. Not because, as illustrated in this shot that Jason sent me, and in Bill Watterson’s case, it’s been bastardized to the point that it is barely recognizable;
I pour beer on the curb for Calvin almost daily.
Now then.. As we get back on track, regarding W.P.W.W.U.O.T’s tool pouch review, I got an email from one particular curmudgeon who will remain unnamed;
“Really? $25 for a piece of cordura with a strap? For $25 you can buy this made in the USA tool roll.
Granted you can possibly stash way too many tools in this thing for bicycle use (enough to make me not nervous on cross country motorcycle trips).
On the bike I found that a $2 hanky or old t-shirt scrap and a toe strap work just as well as those things and then it gives you a rag to wipe your hands on after dealing with a greasy chain and a toe strap for emergency shit too.
Or Grant Peterson used to sell canvas scraps specifically for this use as well. I think he charged $2.00 too.
At least the other one has pockets for the OCD crowd but this still seems like something that shouldn’t be made new, it should be a recycled scrap of something else. Or you can buy a small seat bag and just throw it in your backpack but can also be used on the seat. Or like one of the comments said, use the crown royal bag. Most bike parts come in some sort of packaging now, like Salsa steel stems used to come in canvas velcro closed bags, Fox rear shocks come in nylon ditty bags.
Sorry.. We’ve been talking about products that could be made that would get us out of (unnamed employer) and into our own company and shit like this just kills me because there is just an insane amount of useless, poorly thought out or me too products in the bicycle world since every body now has access to a trading agent and catalogs from Taiwan.”
I understand his point. There is no shortage of useless garbage available, (and for the love of all that is good and right, I implore you to click on that link) but on the same token, the long and the short of it is that these products were made by folks who saw a need based on their own experience. Perhaps a shop rag and a toe strap was the inspiration, but why not make a purposeful version of that blue print, and if it maintains someone’s livelihood as they fall out of corporate America, (or corporate anywhere else for that matter) then I’m all for it.
As I stated, I have long used a repurposed first aide tote to carry my tools, and it has never failed me, though eventually the bag became more hole than bag, and I had to retire it. Sure, I could have gotten back on the ‘make due’ program, as that is the cornerstone of my entire existence anyway, but the aforementioned bags both fell in my lap simultaneously, and as such, I plan on using them from here on out.
At this point, let’s move on to other points… To fill your video hunger, I offer you this clip that was sent to me from DPow!;
I’m not entirely clear on what the objective of that particular competition was, but I think he won.
This next bit has been making the rounds, but I’ll throw it up here anyway. If like me you are a sucker for some brilliant satire, then I might direct your attention to this piece that I poached from The Car Whisperer.
I’m sure he would like to hear from you, and if you are so inclined, please get in touch with him at firstname.lastname@example.org, or leave a voicemail at 860-729-1262. If anyone can find an address for him, I suspect he would like one hundred pizzas sent to his office as well.
Mr. D. Dowd Muska, I would like to officially invite you and your staggeringly narrow view of the world, to eat a steaming bag of crap.
In closing, in light of last week’s zine post, this clip offers some right good news;
So there you go, and now you know.
.. And that is the view of life from my corner.
I hope that each and every one of you have blisteringly fun weekends, even if it means riding something that was otherwise meant for a child.