Big doings brewing.
And here we are at the ass end of the week once again.
Good for us, I say. Not letting Monday through Thursday get us down to the point we accidentally shoot ourselves in the eye while adjusting our bra holster.
As per the usual, I have an assortment of goods to get into, the first being a recap of our recent evening at the Huckleberry Bikes/All City throw down;
Being that it was the Anti-Valentine’s Day, my life partner and I arrived fashionably late after treating ourselves to a romantic meal of lobster and bourbon.
Yet just the same, things were in swing, and keg stands were happening;
Sorta. This guy needed a keg stand in his life like anyone else in the room could use a 200 pound belligerently drunk guy in theirs.
Anyway, we mixed and mingled and I had a quick chat with All City’s Adam Weitzner where he showed me things and I took pictures of them;
Honestly, I remember only bits and pieces of what we discussed, because between the aforementioned booze dinner, and a couple of cans of beer that were presented to me once at the shop, things got fuzzy.
Suffice to say, I did walk away with a clear understanding that what All City has on deck for this year is gonna be bitchin, and will only further solidify their bid for certain world domination.
Lucky for me however, shop proprietor Zack did come through with a recap from his perspective;
Thanks for making it out to the gathering on Friday. Though it was already dwindling by the time you got there, your presence always adds favorably to the experience. I honestly don’t remember if I had a chance to chat with you much at all, but if I did I’m sure it was great.
DeMonika was great company as well. I do happen to remember talking to her. She is lovely as always.
It was a casual gathering, but between most of the canned beer getting stolen, the fire department showing up, and a sketchy fellow named (retracted) needing an escort out, it was fun times.
That sketchy fellow ended up calling the next morning to see if we had his bike… Which we did not.
Anyway, thanks again for showing up and for posting about it.
I’d love to get together and ride or not sometime.
That’s pretty much how I remember it. And I’d like to note as well, that during said escort, I was impressed with the restreignt everyone involved displayed. When push comes to shove, I tend to get punchy. Zack and his crew showed a grace and consideration that needed to be seen to believed.
And this is just another reason why they are one of the finest bicycle shops around.
Moving on the Black Market business, some folks might remember back in October when Swobo and I partnered up in a backpack project called The Hobo;
Then, a couple more readers might remember this post when I described how jimmy-jammed the original arrival date got because of that port shutdown, causing me to wonder just why there the hell the benefit of international manufacturing lies.
Between this project, and that blasted wool Bandit jersey, I do believe I’ve had enough, and we are taking steps to get them made stateside. Of course the trick is to get them made for a dollar amount that is somewhere short of an arm and a leg.
Anyhow, all that aside, the shipment finally landed, and all pre-orders are being delivered as I type. I do know however, that a short selection of additional bags are there in a pile at Swobo’s Ft. Collins hideout awaiting loving homes.
(*Update The remaining selection has apparently sold out just in the short time between writing this and publishing it. Fear not however, we will have more on hand within the week.)
All of the headaches aside, I’m very proud of this project, and I hope that folks like their bags as much as I do.
And speaking further on the matter of Swobusiness, Jefe recently penned this piece which everyone who works in a bike shop, but even more especially shops in a bike shop should read.
Having done my fair share of time in various shop’s trenches, and having never received an actual monetary tip, his editorial struck a chord. To be fair however, over the years I’ve garnered a literal king’s ransom in cheep beer.
I could write volumes about the imbalance of pay between a truly qualified bike mechanic, and someone who works on internal combustion for a living. Take a fellow like Jim at Vecchio’s for example. He is a veritable encyclopedia of parts, generational compatibility, numbers, facts and figures. I can’t say what he makes, as it’s never come up in conversation, and being that he’s one of the owners, I’m sure it’s slightly higher than a wrench simply working in a shop’s employ, but the point is, a person being able to recall all of that information and apply it to the myriad of situations they come up against should most definitely be compensated for it.
Clearly the same could be said for any type of service industry, but for the sake of brevity, and because this is a douchebag bike blog (same diff), we’ll stick to the specific vocation at hand.
There’s no easy answer, because regardless of the mechanic in question’s ability, they work in a bike shop, which we know all too well generally just scrapes by as well.
So just please think about that the next time your local wrench goes above and beyond to get you rolling again, and maybe throw them a five or a ten spot for looking out for you;
Photo by Matt Spilker
Photo by Pamela Palma
Apparently red billed cycling caps are the unofficial uniform of wrenches the world over.
Moving on from that to a clip that was forwarded on to me from Sheppard, it’s the very definition of my entire experience while living in Santa Cruz;
The funny thing is I remember watching Lost Boys at some point around the time of its release, and wasn’t immediately struck with the overwhelming absurdity of the Sax Man scene.
Oh, and when this song is still stuck in your head tomorrow afternoon? You’re welcome for that, too.
Anyway, of course when any of use first saw this scene it was ridiculous, but here in the first third of 2015 it inspires a WTF heard the world over.
Perhaps that right there is evolution in action.
And it goes without saying- It’s gonna take more than a gigantic cup of coffee to erase that bit from our memories.
Podium! Wait….Shit, wrong web site.
Found the best way to remove sexy sax man from the brain… replace it with something ten times more sexy and ten hundred times longer – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2ulyJuvU3Q
When I was wrenching, the only people who ever tipped me were bike messengers (usually with beer or weed), and the crazy old rich dude who bought a new Ritchey every six months.
i read the title as big dongs brewing, which is maybe apt?
reminds me of Danzig fans…