Group Sex

Actually just a "group ride", but probably some of the same elements of sloppiness and confusion were shared. Great album above BTW; go buy or copy it now. Y'all probably think I have gone totally ghey over road riding...I have not. I will never get all of the dirt outta my veins. However, since I started doing the bulk of my daily commuting aboard my urban deathryder (aka Schwinn Supersport DBX) I have grown fond of the speed and edge of yr seat thrill of ripping through traffic. I mentioned here b4 about having my bike start to disintegrate beneath me on a previous dawn patrol through town. My rims after several years have just gotten beat down; I was replacing spokes almost every other month...riding a "road" bike like a mountain bike is not very conducive to maintaining true wheels. Not to mention that the original wheelset that came on the bike was total crap; I destroyed the rear wheel on one of my first rides. Now even the rebuilt rear wheel was looking pretty beat. I had talked to Josh at Contes (Norfolk, the best boys and girls) several times about building a new wheelset and last week I finally pulled the trigger. I thought about fancy svelte wheels with blinged out ano hubs and decided that was a lot of overpriced crap I did not need and would likely rapidly demolish. I opted to go for durability over weight and figured I could get a unique look with painted Velocity Deep V's. I opted for red with non-machined sidewalls which would look way rad since I do not use rim brakes. I had Josh relace the new wheels to my old hubs which work fine and was completely stoked with the look upon picking it up yesterday.


It reminds me of a hot rod and looks like nothing anyone else was riding at the ride today; perfect. Why would I want to look like anyone else anyway? I am pretty sure that the wheelset may be heavier than it's predecessor, but damn it felt great. Like a steamroller, I felt like I could crush everything in my path. This is a good thing for me because in contrast to every other roadie I do not feel the need to avoid every pebble, crack, pothole, animal hair or whatever everyone of them would yell out to warn each other about throughout the ride. I know this is part of the etiquette, but I just will never get it. I guess if everyone riding with you had never ridden before and could not handle their bike for shit then I could understand it. Then again many roadies I have met are poor bike handlers so maybe that's the point...heaven forbid they learn to ride their bikes with some handling prowess. I am not complaining; I find it amusing and found myself giggling about it today.

I ran late this morning for the 7:30 wheels up time. Fat Frog's in Va Beach runs an AM ride every morning, but Saturdays obviously bring out the crowds of weekend warriors. I barreled into the parking lot at 7:32 to find the groups (A++, A, B, C) already lined up. The A++ bunch took off just as I turned my car off. I grabbed my shiz, threw on my shoes helmet and took off just as the C group pulled out. The C group is predominately newbies/hybrid riders and they generally go the least distance at the slowest pace. I was on a complete adrenaline overload and blew past them to chase down the B group. I got up behind the leaders and stayed put knowing I still was not even close to pushing it. Then I got a break as a group of riders from the back of the A group came in from another intersection to pass. I hopped in behind them and it was on. I do not know just how fast we were going, but these guys were working. I was riding in a fury; punk music from helmet blaring in my ears and feeling stoked about how the bike was feeling sent me into riding with a vengeance. My chance came to pull and I overcooked it and had to fall back and grab a gel. I know that I need these little packets of quickly digestible energy, but my loss of taste for sweets makes me almost gag on them. Off the back, I trudged on. A few more riders caught up to me at this point and I drafted in with them. We maintained a solid pace and I felt my second wind blow in thus I started towards the front again. I traded back and forth with a couple of cats and then found that we had once again caught the bunch from the A group that appeared to be hurting at this point. I felt good and took off after them. I caught all of them and finished with the lead guy back at the shop.

I am in no way gloating over any of this. The ride is maybe only 20-25 miles depending on yr route and is completely flat. The flat though makes the whole thing a drag race if you gun it. Still the ripping through the groups, careening around corners and using some strategy to come out solid was a blast. I managed to garner a few dirty looks likely stemming from my Cars-R-Coffins jersey, but no one really said much about my riding or behavior which consisted of my silly music and random hooting an hollering. One of the guys actually complemented me saying something about how I "make that bike move". Thats the point; if you wanna cruise stick to the boardwalk. I gotta move.

Random songs from the ride:

1. Fu Manchu: "Anodizer" a song about BMX, but I dug it here anyway.
2. The Buzzcocks: "Noise Annoys"
3. Beck: "Mixed Bizness"
   
4. Poison 13: "One Step Closer" I shout/sing along with the chorus on this one...whatever.
5. Zeke: "Now You Die"
6. The Dirtbombs: "Ever Lovin' Man" fucking amazing!
7. The Reverend Horton Heat: "The Devils Chasing Me" no shit.
   
8. The Cramps: "How Far Can Too Far Go?" I'm trying to rip the legs off everyone in front of me and this makes me wanna shake my ass.
9. Oblivians: "Drill"
10. Tenderloin: "Pawnshop"
    

Dance this Mess Around...

I will never argue with any roadies about the intensity of going fast as hell down some smooth tarmac. However, I probably will never adhere to the code of conduct and unspoken rule book that seems to be religion in roadie circles. I ride my "road" bike like a mountain bike; I look for hole-shots through rough sections, jump curbs/potholes and take some iffy chances blasting through traffic. I realize this will never endear me to the road elite. I do not ride a traditional road bike either. Most serious roadies are pretty caught up in what feather-light aerospace trick bit you are running and if your kit matches. Heaven-forbid yr bike having any dings or dirt. I cannot recall any mountain bike I have ever owned that did not get filthy and seem to stay like that even after cleaning and lubing. Now I do not abuse my bikes, in fact I am pretty picky about maintaining them, but wear and tear are something I expect. Scuffs and a bit of grime here and there just add character.

I certainly do not fit into the roadie stereo-type look either. I never wear Lycra fitted jerseys or shorts. I almost wear the same get up as I do when I ride off road, sans the armor and pack. This consists of Swobo knickers,a pair of Dickies long shorts, maybe a cheap t-shirt or loose-cut jersey, full-fingered gloves that I've worn out off road and my Azonic surround sound helmet, which is basically a BMX lid with passive speakers built-in that you can plug an iPod into. The helmet itself is not that great; its hot, heavy and not well vented. The speakers though make it worth it which provide a nice soundtrack to all my riding sessions. I suppose I like the esthetic too as it is covered with stickers of questionable taste bordering on being offensive. My shoes are Specialized mountain shoes that are basically the same as a road shoe, but have lugs so you can walk around in them off the bike. I understand road shoes if you are racing and have no intentions of stopping for a very long time, but they make little sense for anyone else.

This morning I did stop for an espresso which I felt like I was above last time I talked about this sort of stuff. I think I managed to frighten a guy and his son as came to a sudden stop inches from them at the door of the coffee shop. They gave me the stink-eye and the father kinda tried to play it off nodding his head like some kind of hipster that its highly doubtful he ever was. I may be reading too much into it, but I kinda felt like a turd in swimming pool on the 4th of July. I gotta remind myself to either go somewhere else or just mentally tell everyone there to go fuck themselves. I will likely go with the later as the coffee hole is at a good stopping point on my loop.

I mixed it up a little on this AM loop adding streets through the downtown that I rarely take. Sketchier traffic patterns, shitty neighborhoods and unfamiliar terrain made it even more fun. I enjoyed the nastiness, the adventure and it made me almost not miss being off road for a second or two. I am not no Limberger...

Durability, performance, cost and a side of chaos.

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction." A. Einstein

Al really nailed it on this one and many others too. My mind tends to wander often much to the chagrin of those around me. I tend to think probably too much and I find myself qualifying and validating why I do things a certain way. My artistic proclivities lean towards the chaotic, confusing and are generally odd or at odds with those of the mainstream. I enjoy things that really do not make much sense nor have much use other than being eye-candy or have the ability to wrench a strong emotion from the audience. Indifference is the worst reaction I believe that anyone can have to anything. I would rather have my efforts hated than nothing. Thus I have always recoiled at the concept of decorative art. Art should not match yr couch. It should be provocative, maybe even scary and shake the viewer up. That is the way I prefer it.

In contrast when it comes to functional items in my repertoire I am mad for efficiency. I am with old Al above in that I like things simple. In my pantheon of values placed on the hardware of my life vocationally (dentistry) or leisurely (cycling) the three most important are durability, performance and value. Durability trumps all for me. I am a big guy; I play rough and my jobs/sports are brutal on equipment. I think warranties are dumb; use whatever yr gone use and take responsibility when you trash it. That is not say that I do not think manufacturers should not stand behind their work if there is a legit material/manufacturer's defect. Yet, warrantying (really insuring) some piece of equipment that is abused or pushed well beyond what it was designed for is just dumb. Everyone was "just riding along" (JRA) when their bike broke in half just like everyone in prison is innocent. I expect things to work as they are purported to, but I will not sweat when whatever it is goes out after I have worked it over.

In expecting things to work I want them to possess a high level of performance. I want my bikes to hold up, but I want them to perform the duties I bestow on them at the tops. Many people get weirded out by the fact that my bikes are not very light. They are not ridiculously heavy, but far more so than the magazines would have you believe is acceptable. Again durability is king, but I want them to handle the terrain I frequent like a surgeon's scalpel. (There is a bike called a Scalpel, but it never really turned me on...that's another topic though.). I want the drivetrain to pop off shifts with authority, the tires to grip like like a hungry pit bull then predictably break away and the suspension to swallow everything yet not flop around like a bed in cheap motel. At work, I want my instruments sharp, my handpieces powerful with lotsa torque and my burs or files new. I want to be able to move rapidly through whatever procedure I am faced with. Inefficiency wastes time and money. I want the best for these efforts for work or fun.

So what is the best worth and how do you assign a value to this? I am not cheap nor am I flashy so I do not need the latest flavor every other minute. Many people I know fall into this mentality. Many of their got-to-have-right-now items end up on eBay or collecting dust in a closet or garage. I don't care about bleeding edge stuff; it will be there tomorrow it if works. I have no problem spending for something that I believe will serve the above definitions well, but I do not just spend willy nilly. I was not always like this. Falsely I thought I could never execute the high quality of work I wanted to provide or really have a great ride without the best of the best. I met a dentist whom I talked to about working for awhile ago. He owned a pretty lavish practice in a very nice location. Lotsa bells buzzers and whistles filed his ops which I gushed over. He was quick to say that he could do the dentistry he does in a sewer if he had to. You only have to want to do good work; all the rest is just icing. I took this to heart and it changed my attitude. I try to minimize the amount I pay for the icing and focus on what I "the cake" can do better instead.

Random 10 songs in my soundtrack lately:

1. Hemlock 13: "Someone I Care About"
2. Tales of Terror: "Deathryder"
3. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: "Took Out a Loan"
4. The Damned: "She"
   
5. TV on the Radio: "Wolf Like Me"
6. Mission of Burma: "That's When I Reach for My Revolver"
7. Zeke: "Super Six"
8. The Cult: "Big Neon Glitter"
9. Sonic Youth: "Tom Violence'
10. The Dirtbombs: "Sun is Shining"

Team or...

...just you? I have never given a shit about most organized sports. Even going back to when I played football from elementary community league through lettering in high school I never like to watch it. I did not like most of the other guys on the team off the field and a few I despised. I liked playing the game then, but that was it. When I graduated high school I walked away from the last of any team sports I would participate in again. All the while I had become far more immersed in individual athletic pursuits such as running, weights and more importantly skateboarding and eventually mountain biking.

Cycling in general is a purely individual sport. You plus bike. Thats it. Yes, I know about the basic mechanisms in road race strategy and how you must rely on yr team mates, drafting, yada, yada. However, in the end it just you and the bike. This holds true even on group rides like one I did today. Sure it was no race, but we all jockeyed for position on different sections of the trails. If you had to stop eventually the others would be waiting for yr (or my) sorry ass, but they cannot do anything for you. Its just you and the bike. You develop a continuous goal list throughout the ride. "Make that climb, hit that drop, jump that log, stick the landing, carve the turn, don't lock up the brakes, don't slide out, get in the right gear", etc. etc. One of the riders who joined us this morning had not rode the trails before and went missing not long after we started. We doubled back and forward yelled and looked all over for him. Eventually we continued on realizing that he could only help himself by either returning to the car or potentially riding a different section at his own pace. He choose the later option and we found him as we were nearly back to our cars. It was just him and his bike.

The James River Park System trails have been around for along time and I have mentioned them here before. I still love the original Buttermilk trail section the best as it is really virtually unchanged from when I first rode there in the early 90's. The trails were in great shape, nicely tacky from an early morning shower and the weather was sunny, but not miserably. We met up with Jay who runs the CCVA website and forums.
We played on many of the technical sections and lil' jumps along the way. I sucked wind up some of the climbs, but still did well overall and made up for it in the nasty sections.
Ten random songs from my ride playlist:

1. The Pretty Things: "Come See Me"
2. Zeke: "Chiva Knievel"
3. Ikara Colt: "Don't They Know"
4. Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen in Love"
5. Gang of Four: "Not Great Men"
6. X: "The Hungry Wolf"
7. The Dirtbombs: "The Sun is Shining"
8. The White Stripes: I'm Finding it Harder to be a Gentleman"
9. Lars Fredricksen and the Bastards: "For You"
10. Dream Snydicate: " Definitely Clean"

It was just me and my bike.

Ride in Non Sequiturs

Sunday, mid-morning. I grabbed a small amount of basic supplies. A 3-way wrench, tube, CO2 inflater, tire lever, a Gu pack, a water bottle, id, a 10 dollar bill, and my cell phone. Considered doing a legitimate tire air pressure check, but just gave 'em squeeze and took off. I should have added a lil' air. The churches that lace the main street were doing a lot of business. Their attendant's cars blocked the lane closest to the sidewalks making things a bit sketchier. Cut through a neighborhood to avoid a bad intersection. Couples walking dogs. A woman in a sweatsuit with headphones and a fanny pack with two goldens. My front wheel is outta true. Made wrong turns cutting through the naval base. Guys driving late model Mustangs. I enjoyed hearing Poison Idea's "Lifestyles" coming from my helmet speakers.



Sang along. Thought about the irony of getting a workout while listening to band that has had several members who weigh over 3 bills. Thought about how flat everything is here. The two bridges I climb during the loop do not count. My front wheel is even more outta true, but it does not matter since I have disc brakes. It looks like someone taking a licorice whip and flopping back and forth. Considered stopping for an espresso, but felt trendy and decided against it. One engine rattled down the tracks. Sounded like a cow mooing in the distance. A Hispanic man lie on the sidewalk at a bus stop bobbing his torso back in forth. Many potholes. Spokes are starting to make noise. Front wheel looks even worse. I hate waiting at lights. Five police cars went past in less than two minutes. Sat for the light then, but ran the next three. Made the left turn onto my street across three lanes of traffic going both directions without stopping.Took off my glasses. Rolled inside.

Guilty pleasures redux

I cannot remember why as a silly junior high student who was trying like hell to be cool I ever bought the record Talk Talk Talk by The Psychedelic Furs. Most kids were still into what would later be known as Classic Rock and lord knows it was not cool to step out of the favoring crowd's tastes as you would be quickly labeled a social pariah, a fag or whatever stupid insult your peers could lob at you. I had already begun to embrace The Ramones, The B-52's and DeVo at this point, but as I have mentioned, those bands while quirky were not considered threatening to most. I really do not consider the Furs to be threatening, but rather haunting and moody. I feel like their sound always had a long standing influence on my tastes and no matter how hard, nasty and heavy any of the bands I came to like I always retained a soft spot for softer moody dark musical pieces.

Singer Richard Butler's gritty baritone and John Ashton's noisy guitar howl are the two elements that define the sound on Talk Talk Talk that I really feel that the Furs tried hard to capture again and again only with varying success after this record. Their later efforts become much smoother and pop-laden; losing the tension that this album is filled with. I put Richard Butler in my top five list of all-time favorite singers. I have tried to mimic his sound without adding a fake English accent as I am in the same register if not deeper. He has that scratchy sound first heard on blues records that scores of people have imitated over the years. Yet, his is laced with punk anger and his accent gives it a whole different level of claustrophobia.

John Ashton's guitar wailing is splattered all over this record. He created tons of texture with jagged soft/loud juxtaposition and clever use of effects without sounding over-done. I can draw a pretty direct line from his playing here and the cacophony of bands like Sonic Youth who mined similar territory albeit with far more brutality.

Talk Talk Talk is one of my go to albums for its melancholy feel. I do not think it is depressing; rather it becomes a foil for me when I am feeling down, insecure or confused. At the same time it has a very sexual feel too with the tension that abounds. It overall yells about issues, but more to a mirror than to everyone else. It is an inward-looking anger as opposed to the outward screaming that characterized the first punk efforts by bands like the The Sex Pistols and The Clash. Many Joy Division fans also seem to like the Furs, but the Furs were always more "poppy" and more accessible. So get mad, but keep it to yourself and give this a listen.

Oh Deer

Today I rode at Freedom Park after a long day. As usual the traffic to and from sucked ass, but I was somewhere else so it did not seem to annoy as much as usual. I reflected on times past, good and bad, old friends and the path that lead me to driving in the sunny 80 degree weather to go sweat like a pig after a busy if not harrowing work week. I could have just as easily gone home or put my head down anywhere and fallen asleep. However, I needed to clear the cobwebs and reshuffle some of the resident demons in my head. I had not rode my trusty Nomad since doing shuttle runs with some of the nutty Richmond DH/Chainsmoke crew outside of H'burg a few weeks back. That did not really seem like my bike though as I had kitted it out for the trip with DH wheels and tires giving it a completely different and much "heavier" feel. I returned to its normal set-up with the addition of a ti-spring from DSP. I am not really sure why I did this, but I had made a little spare kale selling some bike stuff on eBay so I figured I would treat myself. The Nomadizer rode fantastic today. I stuck everything I tried save one large barrel roll I bailed on and the bike floated like never before. It did seem to feel different then when I had a steel spring; overall much smoother without feeling "gooey".

The ride while intense allowed for some much needed solitude. I rocked my usual soundtrack and everything just flowed. Lots of "Sweet Air" to rip off Napoleon Dynamite. I saw not another soul. I suppose they all were headed out of town, or to BBQ's or whatever the choads around here do. I did see at least a half a dozen deer over the almost two hours that I rode. Maybe they were "stimulated" by the nice spring day. Fortunately none of them attempted to bust any of the moves exhibited below on me nor was any French spoken.



I know that I have been working hard as my forearms are very sore. Kinda like "Tennis Elbow" except for dentists. Maybe "Dentists Elbow". Often I daydream of less complicated times with the intensity and demands of my days now. I see pictures that get posted of me from years ago on social network sites and it seems like it was yesterday. It is likely that I thought everything was "too" complicated back then too, but who knows? Pour yrself a strong cocktail and listen to one of my favorite hate-filled numbers.