Hello and welcome to All Hail The Black Market’s 2,083rd post.
Aside from every utterance the former Commander and Chief ever grunted, never have so many words said so little.
Well, what could I possible have to say today? Not much as usual, but I’m not gonna let it stop me.
First up, we have a brand new episode of Revolting for folks to listen to over at TCI, or if you wish, iTunes;
When I was a bike messenger, one time my dispatcher said in response to me chiming in on the radio, “so, is the radio actually inside of your mouth?” I guess I’m not really clear on where to position my word hole when speaking into an electronic transmission device. I’m distracted by my enthusiastic inhaling in this episode, so I apologize, and I will keep that in mind going forward.
In other news of not listening to our better judgement, I have a story to tell, because of course I do.
So, as anyone who’s followed my saga of the last year and two knows, I had to give up my home of over 30 years last spring in an effort to navigate the conclusion of my marriage. I didn’t want to go, but I also knew it wasn’t reasonable to stay. It was a real catch 22, and among the things I was saddened to leave behind, my beloved community and curbs at ye olde Rockridge parking lot was up there at the top of the list. It was there I could always find a trusted confidant, and/or curb to grind/beer to drink/laugh to share.
Arriving to my new location, I was bent and determined to try and reimagine some semblance of what I left behind, but surprisingly, with every new little spot I’d discover, some weird cosmic curveball would get thrown at me. To date, I’ve found four spots, all of which have turned into a bust in some way or another.
Some time ago I happened across a nondescript business park in a nondescript part of town, but noticed immediately that A) the blacktop was smooth B) traffic was light, and most importantly, C) the curbs, while unpainted, were a perfect height, and angle.
While enroute to another local curb spot this weekend that barely checks any of those boxes, I thought I’d swing by and give it a shake. Armed with a rub brick, and some wax, I gave a section the business, and was immediately enamored with my new spot. The fact that some people won’t ever experience the truly blissed out sensation that this has brought me, as well as the fact that a parking lot can conjure this sort of joy at all both perplexes, and boggles my mind. I’m in love with this little sliver of no man’s land, and I hope we can enjoy a long and bountiful relationship together;
Inspired by the first sunny day in weeks, I made another little skate edit while I was there, and perhaps you might like to watch it;
I’m marginally proud of what I can still accomplish at my advanced age, but what I’m happiest about is finding this place in particular at which to ride my wooden toy.
Not only all of this though, but on my way to the tail end of a cross race I blew off, I happened by a recently re-built elementary school that has sitting in front of it, and this is no exaggeration, probably a total of a quarter mile of red curbs (or as Riky Barnes calls them, ‘blood gutters’) just ready for the taking;
To say that I am over the moon about these developments would be a gross understatement.
After nearly a year here in the PNW, I’ve finally found a new church, and I couldn’t be happier.
As a matter of fact, I do believe with all of this being said, it might be time to revisit an all time classic;
Curbs and chaos, indeed.
I sure with they had included footage of Arco however;
That guy is a legend;
I should mention for no reason in particular, that the above shot is from a trip a bunch of us took to Maui a few years ago for JMac, and Babus’ birthdays. It was epically fun, but all you need to know about what sort of person Arco is, is that he brought his own Thin Lizzy tapestry with which to decorate his room.
Ok, moving on to other matters-
Back in 2019 I was in LA, and grabbed one of these badass little tool tools from the folks at Swrve;
I’ve carried this thing with me for literally tens of thousands of miles, and after years of trying to assemble the perfect configuration of supplies, I finally did with theirs;
Everything has a place, and there’s a place for everything.
Well, the other day I went to leave, and dove into one of the two bags I always carry to retrieve it, and was heartbroken to find it missing. I scoured my environment and rode to several spots where I thought I might have inadvertently left it, but alas, was coming up empty. Being the person whose OCD can occasionally go into overdrive, I immediately began re-amassing my exact selection of tools and accessories, and most importantly, a new tool roll;
I found everything I had before from various vendors, shops and so forth, as well as my LBS, and all I had to do was wait.
But then I happened to look in the third bag I sometimes carry, and wouldn’t you know- there it was.
So now that I have one for each of my daily use bags, I realize this must be what if feels like to be a Rockefeller.
If you’re like me, and have spent a lifetime of not quite getting your tool assortment quite right, check out Swrve, Park tire levers, and patch kits, Planet Bike 02 inflators, Pro Bike Gear’s multi, and Dynaplug. There- all of the footwork is dealt with just like that, and you’re welcome.
Finally, I’d like to remind folks that I’m currently sitting on a big pile of my fantastically soft It’s The Water™©® shirts, as modeled here by one Corndog;
Or, as he might be known as going forward, Cleandog.
The sooner I sell out of this batch, the sooner I can go on to fund other projects/buy food/pay rent.