Along with other colloquialisms like ‘ugly as a mud fence‘ and ‘he’s so skinny he’d have to stand up twice to cast a shadow‘, today’s post title is something that my dad (pictured above in more Maynard G. Krebbs days) would say, if in fact he’d ever said it.
The truth is, it’s something I just made up, inspired by a recent project I undertook for pure scientific purposes.
But let me back up a second.
Shortly after this year’s International Bikecycle Extravaganza, I was at my gym, and a woman working with one of the resident traners asked if I was in attendance at said show. My response was something along the lines of “in body, but not in spirit“, at which point she’d mentioned she had been in attendance helping to promote a new line of cleaning products called Global Bike Wipes;
Photo taken after I’d gotten the labels all grubby.
She then asked if I would be interested in giving some of their line a shot, and maybe eventually writing about it on this here web site. “Certainly” I said. “And thank you for the consideration.”
A few weeks passed when one day a duffle bag appeared at the gym with my name on it, which was filled with an assortment of products the company made. I brought them home and stacked them on my work bench waiting for an appropriate time to give them a once over.
Months went by and I periodically pondered on just when I would go about using any of it.
Eventually, struck by inspiration when noticing that my cyclocrossing bike was sufficiently dirtified, I loaded the old girl into a stand and got to work. Ordinarily I suspect one would want to either give it a once over with soap and water and then use the Global Bike line as a final touch, or for the hyper anal among us, use them after every single ride to remove a light layer of dust or road grime. However I wanted to see what made these tick and actually use them to clean a real live kinda dirty bike;
Granted, it’s not caked with mud, but it’s schmutzy, which for this test was perfect.
Initially I used two ‘bike polish wipes’ to tidy up the frame, fork, and tires (being careful not to get any of the cleanser on the braking surface), then used two gear cleaning chords to buff out the cassette;
Following that, I moved my attention to the chain with their chain wipe. I would like to note that when I opened that particular canister, the rags weren’t pulled through the little holder/tearer-offer thing, and I had to open it up and fish out the first towel with my hands like a damned savage;
I then finished the whole process off by cleaning the ample grease and dirt from my hands with their hand and tool wipes. When all was said and done, I’d burned about thirty minutes, eight various towels;
-and was only bleeding out of one knuckle, but my bike looked real damn shiny;
For future use, I would definitely use these products as a follow up to a traditional bike wash (with a bucket, hose, soap, brushes, sponges, toothpicks, etc), which is what they’re for anyway. The cassette chord is good for light cleaning, but personally I’d prefer to disassemble it and wipe each cog down by hand with a rag and citrus cleaner. Likewise, I would rather remove the chain and get busy with a small tupperware full of solvent and a toothbrush, or use a chain cleaner like the PDW Mister Sparkle™.
When all was said and done, the hand and tool wipes were awesome, and was probably what I was most smitten with, that is of course with the exception of the body wipes, which I haven’t used yet because burglars have yet to overrun my neighborhood and steal my shower.
If any of the Global line looks like something that might strike your fancy, give them a look-see and if you’re so inclined, send on your thoughts to either them or me or both. But you probably should hurry, since it’s just a matter of time before Specialize sues them.
Global makes a great product, but they’re not miracle workers.
In news not relating to washing a bike with a moist towelette, a few weeks ago a bloke across the pond named Lewis notified me that a pair of the old AHTBM Blackweiser socks had landed in the cover of a book about mountain biking in the region;
This was very exciting to me for a whole number of reasons. Firstly, I didn’t know that people in the United Kingdom wore socks, secondly, I wan’t entirely sure that mountain biking had caught on over there yet, and thirdly, a corporate logo that I appropriated has found its way to a cover of an internationally selling book, which will only be noteworthy to about fifteen people tops, across the globe. But whatever, youknowwhatI’msaying? I’ll take whatever kinda vague publicity I can get.
But then, just as I was preparing to make a call to my local book store to order a copy, (because screw ever using Amazon, like, for real) Lewis contacted Chipps, who in turn contacted Tom, who very kindly dropped a book with the post in Dangleshireingham, or North Brooksumberlandale or wherever he lives, which eventually landed in my hands. It took an exhaustive fifteen seconds of research, but I found the publisher’s website and how, if they so desired, the place where people could purchase a copy of their own.
I’d like to thank Lewis, Chipps, and Tom for looking out for me, and I doff my herringbone cabbie cap in their particular direction.
Moving on from that, I would like to announce that, at least in this part of the world, winter is here, but despite that fact, there are still reasonably nice days on which one can get outside and play bike rider. Why, it was just this past Saturday when I did that exact thing, but I had an ulterior motive and that was to restock one of my beer spots.
Meow you see them;
Meow you don’t;
This has long been a fun game I’ve liked to play with myself. It’s like an easer egg hunt, but for derelicts. I still have beers hidden all over the Santa Cruz mountains, for anyone who’d like to attempt a treasure hunt.
As a matter of fact, I have at least a twelve pack of sixteen ouncers stashed at the base of three big trees (The only cluster of three trees on the ridge) about 50 yards from this very spot;
But Willie and Ian will never tell.
Truth is, I lost track of where I was hiding beers, and in some instances, retained only the general idea of where they were, but nothing specific, so those needles stayed hidden in the proverbial haystack. At least until the trails are all bulldozed and turned into condo complexes.
Though a squirt of piss wouldn’t put out a fire, it might work good for the occasional marking of territory, or in this case, where the beer was hidden.
Maybe losing beer in the woods isn’t the smartest thing I’ve done, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.