Every day we’re a little further down the river.

A little older, a little wiser maybe, and in some of our cases, a little further to health. (Wealth has no part in the equation natch, because I’m nothing if not a realist.)

I’ve mentioned it a number of times over he last two months, but it was a curious oddity indeed to find out how many others were injured in roughy the same time span. I lost count at around 30. It’s bitter sweet to have so much company in this process to be sure, but just the same, I’m very glad to have it, and on some days even makes it tolerable.

Misery not only loves company, but I’d dare say it thrives on it.

In fact, when I went to some friends’ house to eat dinner and watch two men make $138,000 a second to run around a ring and sweat all over each other the other night, I was kinda floored when who should come limping in but this creep;
babus copy
His name is Mark Babus, and as close as anyone can figure he’s as old as time, though never seems to age. I’ve known him since we messengered together, but our mutual friends have known him much longer. He is something of an anomaly, which I feel I described most concisely on the Instagrams;

“One of these motherfuckers is an indestructible legend. A man who is very literally a freak of nature in his resilience and unwavering dedication to loving life and taking zero bullshit from anybody. He is a modern day caveman, who fears nothing. One is just a generic cunt. Of all of the people I could hope to share a span of injury with, it’s Babus.”

His leg met its match at the skatepark, and mine, in the woods. Two developmentally arrested geriatrics not willing to acknowledge the ever advancing hands of time.

And here’s to hoping that this is true for us one and all.

So anyway, that being said, you know who has a few hundred to a couple of thousand thumbs and likes scenic environments and rad-getting?

This guy (me), and whoever is reading these words right now (you);

Yes, thank you and I’ll have another.

In other news, apparently there’s shit in our beards;
Eric-Bandholz copy
Certainly this will be bad news for the legions of people who’ve since subscribed to my periodical;
Though I can’t help but think there just must be a connection between the artisanal plungers and the poo beards.

In news of bike heists, it seems as though someone has been posing as a magazine editor and tricking high end bike manufacturers to ship bikes for photoshoots, which never actually existed.

The full scoop is here.
As soon as I saw the title of the piece, ‘Phony Journalist Scams Companies Out Of Expensive ‘Review’ Bikes’, I assumed they were talking about a bike blogger.

Because bike bloggers are literally just the worst.

Anyway, these two beauties are pretty hard to miss and I doubt will remain undetected for too long.

In other news entirely, and lastly, the person who brought joy to my world by attempting to feed Ryan Gosling his cereal has passed away;

Rest in peace Mr. Ryan McHenry.

Today my bowl of cereal will be eaten in tribute of you.

And it’s with that, that we continue down the river, ever mindful to keep our feet from getting wet and/or falling out of the boat and breaking ourselves off in yet some other new and creative way.

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Leave a Reply

3 Responses to “Every day we’re a little further down the river.”

  1. Rider Todd May 6, 2015 at 6:22 am #

    Shit in beards well…..yay for the scientific process:


    Heal fast bro!

  2. Loudass, Esq. May 6, 2015 at 12:22 pm #

    “The [$13,000] Firefly bike belonged to a customer who had recently taken delivery of the custom bike but […] hadn’t ridden it.”

    Apparently, a new customer has taken delivery and is riding it to the recycling center with the handlebars turned upside down.

  3. beetarded May 9, 2015 at 8:33 pm #

    Babus – I ran into him at my work, of all places, he was working a a case manager for the juvie delinks that attended LIfe Learning
    Academy. Role Models all around. Aron Kessinger (you know his Nickname) also volunteered there until the principal asked him to leave because he “smelled like beer and cigarrettes.” There’s a funny story behind that too. take care steve, specially your knee-jerk jeck of a knee