Before we get on with getting down, I have to throw up a clip that I found via MPLS Jenn in the wee hours of Wednesday morning which is at this point yesterday’s news but it’s still too good not to share. It may be corporate marketing, but it’s corporate marketing that’s won my heart;
In entirely different news, Jim from Vecchio’s Bicicletteria sent me the following article and video clip;
“A bike messenger clip that doesn’t make ’em look like douches.”
From my little corner of the world, and with my history as a messenger as my witness, I have a complete appreciation for Zo. He’s not one who thinks he’s saving the world, or who has some kind of curious god complex, as many of my former compatriots did. He’s just a fellow who loves doing what he does and feels blessed because of it. Good for him, and here’s to hoping that he can continue for as long as it brings a smile to his face.
Say, speaking of people who make a living doing what they love and vice versa , BSNYC aka RTMS, aka Wildcat Rock Machine, aka Bourbon Jack is doing whatever the hell he has been doing these last several weeks, this time in the lovely city of San Francisco.
Not only am I ‘totally riding his jock‘ (which is a hard thing to do and type at the same time) but he is a person whose efforts I appreciate. The Chronicle Books website says that this Saturday at San Francisco’s Rapha boutique (purveyors of fine yak skin clothing) there will be a ride, reading and signing, which I presume will happen all at the same time within the confines of the store.
For the sake of full disclosure I have yet to read, let alone see the new book, but I will be bringing along a suitable substitute for him to sign in its place;
Books about riding bikes and books about making your junk grow are separated by a fine line.
Then for those who care about such things, Jacob Smith and his White Buffalo will be playing that evening Huey Lewis’ bar
Of course due to the fact that I am just a lowly dirtbagbloggerdouche, I will probably simply just be found standing outside with my ear to the door.
Anyway, if you haven’t yet filled your Saturday dance card, there’s some stuff to do.
In news of fallen comrades, Phil got in touch last week with the sad saga regarding a buddy of his who has been dealt a devastating blow;
“On January 17th a dear friend of mine had a run in with a truck while cycling to work. He broke his neck & back. Needless to say he has a long and very expensive road to recovery. Would you mind posting to see if anyone has any spare change they can throw at him? Nick and his family would greatly appreciate it. He wiggled his toes for the first time recently. He’s only been cycling for a year, and was falling madly in love with bikes.”
It’s the least I can do.
Here is to wishing Nick a speedy recovery.
Then, Frank Maguire who is the acting Regional Director in the Mid Atlantic for our own International Mountain Bicycling Association sent me this link a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been sitting on it for a special occasion, which apparently is now;
Why are people impressed with dude-bro-brah’s dressed as American Gladiators riding bikes with springs everywhere when kids like this exist?
We all could take a page from that book.
Unlike the opening sequence, there is no drama in Clint’s life and I suspect if an individual like him were to push that ominous, albeit tempting red button, There would be no sirens, or fisticuffs in the street.