Saints behold

After returning from a ride I noticed a couple of blokes moseying on up to the door with bikes by their side. As I was not expecting company because I never expect company and company never comes I figured they were selling something and I pondered not answering the door but my curiosity got the best of me.

Turns out there were selling saving. Specifically they seemed real intent on selling me the way to saving my lost soul. Now my soul has been lost a good long while and I wasn't sure a couple of young men rolling about on fixies were going to be much help. But being a nice guy, and it being kinda muggy out, I did ask them if they needed some water or something.

So I got them a couple of glasses of ice water and they were real nice blokes and they seemed intent on me listening to their pitch. Problem is I've heard the pitch. My sister is a Mormon and these were good Mormon lads out doing their soul saving best. So I politely told them that I was well aware of the offerings but there would be no saving today.  I was however curious how they came to be on fixies and turns out the church furnishes them for the lads. That's kinda clever of the church. If you're going to send them out into the day trying to convince people to throw away all logic and reason at least have them do it on something that will keep them ever so close to their maker. Take away the brakes and send them on their way. If that don't put the fear of God in ya nothing will.

There's even a place that sells bikes just for these blokes. "Helping you carry the message". Catchy.

The Mormons have this belief that when someone dies you can still save their damned soul by baptising them in the church. My sister once asked me if she could do that when I'm dead and gone. Well sure. I may be all skeptical and stuff but there's always the chance I'm wrong and she's telling me, no worries, she'll take care of it. All I gotta do is die. Since I'm gonna die anyway, what the hell. In fact if anyone knows of any other religions out there that offer a similar service let me know. I can go about living my hedonistic life and still cover all the eternal salvation bases. This is all upside. Yep, sign me up for all of them.

Not so fast there pardner...

Getting old sucks. It seriously sucks.

After a few months of taking care of a shoulder problem I finally get back in the saddle... for about 8 days. Then shoulder problem returns. Now once again I'm off and pedaling with hopes of making it at least through the spring.

Which of course finds me on my favorite trail to hate, the Capital Crescent one. There's always something to make a cranky person crankier on the CCT. The endless number of bikers that whiz by with no warning. The CAT 0's who bomb the middle. The runners doing u turns without even thinking that someone may be behind them. But today was a new one.

I'm coming from Bethesda home to DC and I pass a teenage girl. Within 30 yards theres a bunch of walkers coming both ways. I slow and wait for the opening, move out to pass the walkers and head back over to the right when I almost collide with teenage girl. Apparently that whole slowing thing didn't sit well with her so she passed the walkers on the right in the dirt while I was passing on the left.

Soon enough I've slowed for walkers again and this time I watch as she bombs them on the right again. One of the walkers was so alarmed she actually let out a bit of a screech.

Well, her being a teenage girl and me being all manly I soon pass her again and mention that that was pretty rude of her. She, being a teenage girl, tells me where to put it.

God how I've missed this.

Back in the saddle again

See, now that's the thing about getting old. Your mind may say that you're still out and about and kickin it but your body will eventually win. Your mind has to come to terms with it.

For the last couple of months I've had shoulder problems. Now - being man and all - I normally pay no mind to these nagging little pains here and there. So I kept biking and playing tennis and what not and the shoulder kept getting worse and finally one day I couldn't bike or play tennis or what not. Turns out got me a bit of that arthritis in it and it don't take kindly to being ignored.

So after some time doing stupid exercises and not doing the things I want to be doing it turns out that sometimes those doctors know what they're up to. Who knew? After that last visit I swore them off but apparently not all of them want to don some rubber gloves and go pokin' around in places that weren't meant for pokin'.

There for awhile I was wondering if I'd be doing much riding anymore and I wasn't happy about it. Just when I'm working part time and have lots of time to bike the body betrays me. But long story short I'm back riding and the weather is good and the sun is shining.

Now that I know I'll be biking again it's time to consider my spring/summer wardrobe.

For many a year my wardrobe consisted of ratty t-shirts, well worn bike pants, a pair of shorts over them ('cause I'm old school and tight bike pants on an old guy, well, best not try picturing it) and Keens. I had no idea one could assemble a new ensemble all the time. You can even do seasonal ensembling.

So now that I've found my lifestyle I'm eager to complete Me 2.0.

For this summer I'm thinking of starting with this little number:

Lightning Vest

The Lightning Vest is a hand-netted, highly visible safety vest made from a custom developed 3M reflective material. It can be worn all year, day or night and layered over jackets or t-shirts. Neck opening is wide enough to pass over your helmet and netting is large enough for your hand to access your pockets. The Lightning Vest is very strong, lightweight and compact enough to fit in your pocket without ever getting tangled.

At only $95 too. I'm sure the spring collections are just starting to appear and I hope to soon to be able to show off some of the new Me 2.0.

Yes, it's good to be back in the saddle again. 

Happy Holidays

New York City

Ah, New York City.
Years and years (and years) ago I lived in Manhattan for about 18 months. At the time I rode a motorcycle and was young and stupid, meaning I did stupid things on that motorcycle. Things I wouldn't dream of doing today. Anyway, I took the dreaded car up because I was going to be going back and forth between Manhattan and Williamsburg for a few days with passengers on board.

Before arriving I was sure I would observe bikers doing stupid thing all through New York City. I was sure I'd be annoyed that they just don't see that they're total and complete tools. And I was sure I going to write about it.

But I'm not. What I'm going to write about is the ungodly amount of cars going in every which way as fast as they can while pretty much acting like you ain't there and if you are there and that is where they wanna be in a second or two then you'd best be moving along.

Now, I've been known to get "vocal" at times. Pretty much every day presents a situation where I can call out a tool and I'm not one to let these situations go without some quality "vocal" time. But New York City. The last time I was this "vocal" was when I picked up a rental car in Paris a few blocks from the Arc de Triomphe at rush hour. Within minutes the window was down, the finger was out and the language was colorful.

You think of red light runners and you think of a car running a light after it's clearly turned red. In New York City the only time they stop running a red light is when the cars with the green light fill up the intersection. It's not one or two, it's as many as can get out there before the green lighters hold them back.

No sooner have you figured out how to be aggressive and assertive then you find yourself slamming on your brakes because yet another stupid pedestrian has emerged between parked cars and is going to cross the street in front of you. And best not to take any turns to tight 'cause the pedestrians ain't standing on the sidewalk, they're out in the road waiting for the light to turn cause they gotta be like the first ones to cross the street. Does everyone in New York City have tattoo's?

After 3 days of this zaniness I was simply flabbergasted that anyone could possibly be upset at the way a biker, any biker, behaves in New York City.

Bikeville

Those folks over at Momentum magazine, that same site that helped me find my "lifestyle" have an article on Greenville South Carolina. New home of the center of the bicycle universe. Yep, these good folks want to rename their city Bikeville.

Cities are often naming themselves after this or that. I come from a little place that named itself after prehistoric circular earthworks. It hasn't changed much since those long forgotten days. Sometimes they just steal the name of another place and put "New" in front of it. I guess the founders were too lazy to come up with something on their own.  Countries will change their name after independence or civil war and then go about changing the names of their cities. I don't think one often hears of a little place changing it's name because of a mode of transportation. Usually a nickname will suffice. Detroit, the motor city, things like that.

They have the first bike shop just for women in the country and a few trails, one that is 13 miles, and biking is arguably the most popular sport in the area and there are beaucoup de arts and culture. 

However I am a bit concerned. There is no mention of a tattoo parlor. They do mention that it's the home of the USA Pro Cycling Challenge but that ain't exactly screaming out a big welcome to the fadsters. You can't go calling yourself Bikeville without catering to all the CAT-0's (Costumed And Tattooed). Gourmet chefs and upscale boutique's do not a Bikeville make. You need to provide for the tools on fixie's who have a side to them that can only be expressed through a tattoo.. 

This also raises the question of who will own the road. If you're living in Bikeville can a car yell at you for being on the road? Will bikers really own the road AND the multi-use trails? Yes yes yes, they already think that they do, but if you live in Bikeville then is their claim more legitimate? Will cars be ostracized? Will every car that runs a red light be debated in forums ad nauseum? Will cars be allowed rolling stops?

I don't know how that will all play out but I reckon that there will still be lots of confrontations. Being cranky and all I often find myself yelling at some tool, whether they be bike or car tool, and sometimes those things can escalate. What I need is some proper training in the technique of bike combat:

For $2 American dollars you can take that thousands of American dollar state of the art two wheeled wonder and kick some royal behind. I don't know about you but I've always felt that if I only knew how to wield my bike as a weapon that any gun toting thug would soon find himself on the wrong side of the whatfer. 

I haven't been to Greenville Bikeville, it's, uh, in the south, but if I could rule the roads and the pathways and take a few names it may be the ideal place to retire.

Tools of the tirade

Two summers ago I was at a stop light waiting for it to change. Across the street was a Jeep and in the jeep was some big hairy tool with several dogs in the back.

Soon I was off on the green. The big hairy tool was turning left and apparently I wasn't moving fast enough because he gunned it directly at me and at the last second swerved to miss me, giving me the finger as he passed.

Considering how many incidents occur as one rolls along you might wonder why this particular one sticks out in my mind. As the fates would have it me and this same tool with the same jeep and (I'm assuming) the same dogs had a chance to cross paths again.

I'm returning from the store in the dreaded car and stopped to back up into a parking space when this jeep comes racing toward me, comes inches from my mirror and the driver is giving me the finger. Well I'll be damned. I recognize him and the jeep and I'm all beside myself. I just thought he was just another tool towards bikers but apparently he's all about equal opportunity.

So this tool passes on and a few houses up pulls into a parking space.

Ever have those moments when all goes black and you don't really know what you're doing? Where you're rabid and foaming at the mouth and you're not even aware of it? That was me. I had somehow parked, left the vehicle, marched up to his jeep and had my face inches from his through his window. I'm guessing that's what happened but I can't say for sure.

He was muttering something but I can't tell ya what because I was too busy screaming "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!". Why I wanted him out of the car I hadn't a clue. Was I intending to fight him (uh, what? Fight? WTF?)? Sure, I was in a scrap or two back in high school but that was when you could throw a punch and not get shot. Besides if I threw a punch it would be an old man's punch and nobody wants to see that.
As mentioned he was a big hairy tool, and though I wasn't sure if I could take him in a fight (ok, I was sure I couldn't) I felt quite certain that if he emerged I could outrun his fat ass. Did I want him out of the car so we could engage in a foot race?

It was all quite confusing to me as I repeated my mantra and he kept muttering something about why would I want to fight him for giving me the finger. He seemed genuinely shocked by the very idea. Actually, so was I.

Well, as these things are wont to do, the crazed anger was quickly subsiding as he kept pursuing the "let's chat" avenue and I was loudly repeating my increasingly pathetic battle cry. While my mind was trying to maintain some kind of tough guy persona and deal with the subsiding craziness I was also struggling with the dogs in the back whom were panting and looking at this spectacle with mild curiosity. Being a lover of the 4 legged creature I was mightily fighting the urge to go "who's a good boy? who's a good boy? you're a good boy! yes you are, oh yes you are! what a good boy!".

All of it proved more that I could take. I knew that I was in a no win situation. I didn't want this crazed anger anymore, he, thankfully, wasn't going to get out of the car, the dogs looked so darn cuddly and I wasn't about to chat. So I decided to just walk away. I reminded him that he was a goddamned candy ass, a phrase I once heard from an Admiral that I swore to use some day, and headed home, feeling quite pleased that I got to use it and not get my ass kicked because of it.

As I walked home I saw him get out of his jeep, drop something off at the house he was parked in front of, get back in his jeep and just as I was about to go in the door he honked as he was passing. I turned and he was giving me the finger.

And just when I was starting to feel stupid for acting like a total tool.  I'll be damned.