Belly up to the burn, for I have some words to spill.
Being in the position that I am- (hanging upside down from the ceiling, but also as a sort of conduit of damned souls), it’s a fortunate thing that occasionally when I haven’t been living a life to its fullest, I can rely on others who do to take up my slack.
Just such an individual of course, is the bespectacled wonder known as Cranpa from FBM Bikes;
The two of us initially met many years ago, and in a random coincidence later found that we had some tight, non-bike related homies in common, and have had a constant friendship ever since.
In the years of the All Hail The Black Market web project’s existence, he’s been a qualified, and quality set of boots on the ground in the world of bikecycle motocross bikecycles, and all things relating to it, which I cannot put a price on since I’m over here dicking around with stretchy pants, speedcycles, and them new fangled mountain bike contraptions.
He is the yin to my yang, the peanut to my butter, and the trash to my trailer.
In his latest correspondence, he waxes poetically like so;
Not sure how you feel about badass shit, but check this out!
Kenny Horton re-revisited is serious.
Kenny is a hessian’s hessian, and his nerve aboard a bike outshines the sun.
Plus, I’d be lying f I said I wasn’t embroiled in a bit of my own personal man crush on him;
So anyway, in response to Cranpa’s query, I like badass shit real well, and I appreciate both his and Mr. Horton’s efforts for us here today.
Besides old Crandall, another character who has spent time darkening the proverbial door here on this virtual household with some frequency is George. His tales were often ones involving dirt biking, dirt bagging, and/or the occasional missive regarding bacon wrapped shrimp.
As we all have to some degree or another, he’s grown up a bit over the last nine to eleven years, but not so much so that he can’t stick his head in here for a how-do;
After way too long, I finally did a slappy. Or then 20. I’ve seen the light.
Thank dog my company just moved offices to a street with 3 blocks of yellow curbs;
I like it when George comes around, and feel most especially happy about it now that he’s recognized the power of ‘the dance‘.
Now if at this point in today’s effort, you’re feeling fulfilled, that’s probably for the best, because during all of yesterday, instead of standing at my post and banging out yet another half-assed effort for you to soak your eyeballs in, I met up with one of my two longest standing internet (b)romances. (The other is Snakehawk, with whom, despite the fact we’ve never laid eyes on one another, I’ve considered a friend for thirteen years.)
My yesterday’s date however is named SHUTUPBRIANQUINN, hails from Brooklyn, and has been a confidante, and occasional drinking partner for over a decade.
He happened through town for familial obligations, and we decided it would be best to take some time out to head into them thar hills for a spell in an effort to tear one another’s legs off.
Besides getting a stern warning from a hillbilly that we were trespassing on his land, (which we most definitely were not), we covered both hill and dale in an all day trek across all manner of terrain whilst upon our hybrid bikecycles;
While the world seemingly crumbles around our collective feet, the act of getting outside for an adventure to nowhere proved itself to be a most productive form of therapy.
Even though no blazing fires were to be had, telling stories and sharing lies with a pal between feats of strength and cracked cans has the capacity to make all the unbearable, at least for a little while, a bit more so.