Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale…. A tale of a fateful trip, that started from this northwest shore as told from my hairy lip.
Hello, and good day. After a whirlwind couple of weeks, I’m back here at my post with a newish lookout on life, some of which I’ll share with you now.
Eventually it was time for the big show, and after a bout of torrential rain, the races were off and for three hours Amanda and I jibber-jabbered about absolutely nothing;
These images remind me that I need to upgrade my phone, because my camera doesn’t work so very good anymore.
Anyhü, it was a super fun weekend, and I thank the good people of High Order for allowing me to take part.
One super fun occurrence happened while at the B-Side bar I’d like to reiterate. Years ago (I can’t remember which one at this point), it was on their first tour when I went to see Red Fang play in Oakland. I wanted to bring their roadie/tour manager a present. I figured people in bands always get the spoils, but the roadies never do, so I brought him a sweater;
We slapped hands, and I only ever saw him in the music videos again.
That is until I stumbled across him on Instagram a year or so ago.
So I’m sitting there in the bar nursing a beer, and I’m scrolling through IG stories, and suddenly there’s Coyle, tending the very bar where I sat and I just didn’t recognize him;
We caught up with one another’s lives and times, which was real nice.
It’s fun stuff once again proving wherever you go, there you are.
Moving on, and while on the topic of bicycle racing, Mike reached out to me and asked if I wouldn’t mind helping him out with support for a throw down he’s got planned for the near future, and because I appreciate all things single speed, I did his bidding;
If I’m not mistaken, this is happening around the Dallas area, so if you are, or will be as well, maybe you should mark your calendars and get after it.
Up next, I have some art that doesn’t suck that comes from the hands of a person named Joan Lalucat;
While I truly believe the Twain quote, ‘comparison is the thief of joy‘, I feel like it may be human nature to look outward and feel those tinges of envy of people operating in ways you wish you could. I don’t give a shit about what people have, where they travel, how they skate/ride, or whatever, but when it comes to the creative process, all bets are off.
Finally, I have a request of anyone who is reading these words;
Listen up, dicks! My compatriot Robot and I are staring down the barrel of the 100th episode of the Revolting podcast. To celebrate, we’re going to try and compile 100 listener questions/observations/threats/declarations of undying love, or whatever have you.
Just organizing said questions is going to be a feat unto itself, but I think we’re up for the challenge.
Emails can be sent to robot(at)cyclingindependent(dot)com and/or stevil(at)allhailtheblackmarket(dot)com.
Or send us DMs.
Or carrier pigeons.
Would you like to remain anonymous? Well, then send me a postcard.
Or slide a note for Robot under the door at Seven Cycles.
We only have a couple of weeks to get this herd of cats organized, so get cracking like, yesterday, and let’s make the 100th episode the most mediocre of them all.
Now, before I take my leave, and speaking of which, I have the brand newest episode of new, improved, and glitch-free Revolting right here;
Besides hitting it with a shoe, it’s probably the best worst thing you can do for your head today.