Large Fella on a Bike

The Good & The Funny...

...at least to me.

First, The Good:

Amy got me a fantastic book for Christmas called "Slow is Beautiful" by Cecile Andrews.  This book is just wonderfully amazing and has come at such a perfect time in my, Amy & Chloe's lives.  Perfect timing.

I don't really want to go into too many details about it, what it is, etc... suffice it to say, if you have any trust in me, what I've accomplished, am trying to accomplish, find society in general to be on the edge of something [anything] rather ugly & bad...

buy it, read it and then pass it on to someone else.  Please.

Now, The Funny:

Was riding and passed by a building of condos.  Double parked on the street is a car with a Domino's pizza placard on the roof and walking up the sidewalk is a cat in Domino's garb, carrying a flaccid red delivery case.  This other guy comes running out of the building holding 3 pizza boxes and says, "Ahhh, excuse me, Domino's guy.  We ordered Sprite not Coke.  You delivered Coke."  The delivery guy turns around and says, "Ummm, my check says Coke.  Sorry."  Guy with 3 boxes says, "Well, someone took the order down wrong.  You delivered Coke, and we want Sprite."

I ride for another hour and a half, and on my way back home-and as part of my City Loop-I have to pass back in front of this same building.

As I am riding down the street toward this building I can hear someone yelling something but no return conversation.  As I get closer to the building, I see the guy who wanted Sprite not Coke, sitting on the stoop to the building, same 3 pizza boxes beside him, chain smoking and screaming into his cell phone:

"No, you listen to me asshole.  I ordered Sprite, my wife wants Sprite, I want Sprite... NOT fucking Coke!  I don't give a shit if you are closing up, someone there better get their ass into a car and bring me my goddamn Sprite because I'm still sitting outside, now with my cold pizza, and I'm not going inside until I have a fucking Sprite in my freezing fucking hands".
Past that, I couldn't hear any more as I was too far down the street.

There ya go...

Moronic Trifecta

Example #1:
Riding through a park that yuppies use as their own personal playground for their substitute children, dogs.  A variation of this seems to occur weekly for me on rides... today's was-
approaching a woman, she's holding a rubber ball, and beside her, a stroller w/baby.  To her left, a Jack Russell terrier that she's been throwing aforementioned rubber ball back and forth at.  She's taking up over half of the path through this area, the small part left available to passersby is between her and the dog.  I approach at 15mph, slow to 10... I am 20 feet away and she's staring at me while still holding the ball, the dog is on the other side of the path going nuts waiting for her to throw it again.  I am now going around 6 or 7mph, Chloe is attached via her Piccolo.  Sure as shit, as I am nearly in between her and her dog, and she still hasn't thrown the ball nor moved over one inch, the dog tears across the path in front of Chloe and me.
Slam the brakes, foot down and still my front wheel is about to go right over the neck of the dog so I lift my front wheel off the ground, all the while jamming everything so hard that it felt [and still does feel] like I stoved my right wrist all the way up to my shoulder.
The woman says "Sorry".  But you know, seeing this typed out, it doesn't read right... it was more like a completely flat affect, vanilla, couldn't-be-less-interested or bothered "Sorry".  I shake my head and tell her, "Close call... your dog was almost in two pieces, you should be more careful.  This is a Mixed-Path and additionally, the dog isn't on a leash... it's illegal."  She just has this completely dumbass, clueless look.  I continue on.

Example #2:
20 minutes later we are entering Liberty State Park [for you Out-Of-Towners, it's where Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty are located].  One of the ferries that takes all the polyester-clad, McDonald's-toting tourists out to both locations is loading off it's occupants.  Like a good 10 minute stream of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, Greyhound-riding tourists.  I figure, "Ok, I already had the dog yuppie incident, I ain't tempting fate", so I stop and ride in circles with Chloe for 10 minutes until they have walked down the gangplank and across the path, before we will continue on.  They disperse and we carry on, 100 feet ahead I can see a rather huge woman in a pink sweatsuit screaming at one of her two kids.
"NO!!  YOU'LL LISTEN TO ME, MISTER!!  UNLESS YOU BEHAVE YOURSELF AND ENJOY THIS GODDAMN TRIP YOU WILL NOT HAVE ROY ROGERS CHICKEN FOR DINNER TONIGHT!!!!!!!!  I'LL EAT IT ALL, YOU KNOW I WILL TOO!!"
Charming.
She's so busy threatening this poor kid out of his load of fried death that she, of course, cannot be bothered to look anywhere but at him.  She's walking one way during all this, I ride waaaaay to the left of her, last second, yep...
she starts waddling right into my front wheel.  Her other kid, the one not getting screamed at and also much thinner, shouts, "MOM!!!!!!!!  WATCH IT!!".  She lets out this little huffy scream and moves away.  As we ride away, me silent but shaking my head back and forth, I hear her say loudly, "Assholes on bikes... that shit's for kids".  I say nothing.  This ride is doomed.

Example #3:
Nearing the end of the ride, many crossed fingers for no further incidents, we are coming along an access road that runs parallel with the Holland Tunnel.  The traffic runs one way at us, and we have to shoot across a small intersection [that goes into a small shopping center] and up onto a sidewalk.  The road is hugely busy, it's 5:30pm... knee-deep in rush hour.

As we near the little intersection and prepare to power down to get to the sidewalk this Olds Cutlass starts turning in, really slow, non-committal... and with no turning signal.  As I come to a complete stop to let him turn, he stops completely and looks at me.  Guy is around 60'ish, white hair, rather bizarre look to him.  Way too placid.  He starts doing this fucked up wave with his right hand.  Not like a "Go-Ahead" kinda wave... more like a "Welcome to Zippo Luguino Brothers Circus" wave.  Very flamboyant.

I'm stuck.  He's taken the entire intersection, he's wedged across it, cars are honking at him, he keeps waving like Cole Porter.

I have two choices:

1.  Ride out into the access road which is bumper to bumper cars, SUV's and trucks... with Chloe attached to me.

or...

2.  Have her get off, me get off, and back up our bikes about 6 feet, get back on, have her get back on, and then go around him.  No dice... I'm not having Chloe get off her Piccolo in traffic like this, and in front of his car to boot.

I start motioning for him to go into the plaza.  Nope, he keeps waving me on.  I have no where to go.  On and on this goes for like 2 minutes-which in that kind of traffic, is an excruciatingly long amount of time.  Cars are starting to push around him to continue on... he has me blocked, the intersection blocked, and half the access road blocked.  Windows are coming down, people are getting dark.  Very dark.

Still I keep waving him through.  Finally I scoot forward [the only direction I can move effectively] and motion for him to roll his window down.  He does, and before I can bat an eyelid he says [and this a direct transcript of our ensuing exchange]:

Him: I've seen you, I am stopping, I have stopped.

Me:  Thanks.  I can't get around you though... the only way for me to go is backwards or out into heavy traffic.  Please go ahead.

Him:  I saw your little one, I have stopped, I have done the right thing here.

Me:  Thanks.  Please go ahead... you're holding up traffic, and I cannot move forward here.  Please.

Him:  I saw her, and you... I have stopped.

Me:  Yes, you have.  Thanks.  Please go ahead, please. 

Him:  I have done nothing wrong here... a little one, I stopped.  Nothing wrong.

Me:  Please move into the plaza, and yes, thank you... but, ahh, you didn't signal.

Him [looking down at his dashboard and with eyes growing big]: I saw the... ah, uh, little one.  I stopped, nothing more can be asked of a person.

Me:  Please move.  You did great, woulda been better if you'd used your turning signal but I don't care... please pull forward, people are getting strange behind you, and I would like out of here.

Him:  I saw the..., the... little one.  Nothing wrong.  Pulled in.  Stopped.

Me:  You didn't signal... move.  Now.  Please.

He rolls up his window and pulls in.

10 feet later, safely on the sidewalk and rolling along toward home, Chloe casually asks, "Daddy what was that foul odor coming from his car after his window went down?"

Me... "Oh, that was about 4 martinis worth of vapor coming out of his mouth.  He wasn't in very good shape.  Lets go home to Mommy".

The Day After Ride...

Planned for a nice, leisurely X-mas Day Ride but pissing rain kept that from happening so... we hit it hard today [in the mostly nice weather: high 30's, light wind... and occasional not-so-nice weather: mid-30's, drizzling rain with wind gusts up to 30mph].

Did a nice 25 miler with my Gals, and had a ball.

Amy had an excuse to take along her newly acquired Nikon binoculars a certain someone ;-) got her for Christmas, as did Chloe with her new helmet [that I customized slightly for the holiday season] and glow-in-the-dark frisbee.  Also, it was a chance to finally get some pics of Chloe's Christmas-Decored Piccolo [idea partially gleaned from one Sir Kent Peterson and this post, and a dream I had about such a thing happening].

It's actually rather great that in an urban area this vast and dense, people, almost exclusively, will smile no matter how hard they try to be busy with other things, when they see Chloe approaching on her "Christmas Machine and Helmet".  Even the Homies shout stuff like, "Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout" and "GET IT ON!!".  Of course Chloe always, without fail, says to me: "Daddy, what's the biggie?  I'm just a big girl on her bike."

The snaps [excuse some of these-they had to be taken without a flash to get Chloe's lights to photograph properly]:

Amy working a stick through her shoe to remove dogshit [ahhh, the joys of public parks... ]

Santa hat filled with bubblewrap for form & shape, and then held down with copious amounts of zip ties through her helmet.

Peace & Blessings...

Merry Holidays...

Went for a late night X-mas Eve ride... absolutely blissful: cold [but not too], virtually no traffic, silence [or as much as one can find in the worlds most populated-dense area], lots of rubber on road whirrrrrrrl... just felt plain great.  Left at 10pm and got 21 miles in.

Back at home, Amy & Chloe were busy cleaning, composing notes & snacks for Santa and his Reindeer, etc all in preparation for the Big Guy to arrive.

Happy Holidays to All... keep riding, keep living, keep hoping, and always keep trying.

And on a completely different, creepy and hilarious note, I leave you with this...

Swimming Upstream...

I once had a teacher, great guy-made a huge no, enormous impact in my life, and he would say:

"You know... if 3 people mention something to you, listen.  Don't throw yourself over a cliff or anything, but listen.
If 5 people say something, listen, nod your head up-n-down frequently, smile lots and pretend to care.
If 10 or more people say something, run the fuck away from them.  They're lemmings, followers, non-thinking bolts [for purposes of general reference: my teacher would use the term "Bolts" lots, as in "Bolts in the side of their necks... " also as in "Frankenstein" as in "People who don't think for themselves, robots, man-made/man-controlled laboratory experiments"] and need your pity, arrogance... and then kicked in the nuts and left for dead."

God, I miss that man.

So anyway...

we have Road Cycling, Mountain Biking, Tri, Cyclocross, Cyclotouring, Randoneuring, City Riding, Trials... lots of categories.  I want to introduce a brand new one:

Rage Riding.

Rage Riding~ where one dresses in street clothes, everyday clothes, anything but riding clothes, equipped with a holster with a .357 Magnum, ankle knives, 7-point titanium throwing stars, fork-mounted, brazed-on, dual sawed-off shotgun racks w/shotguns stowed, a Carradice Camper Longflap loaded to the gills with spare ammo, face paint, gin, dog-eared copies of Gent, Oui and the Rivendell Reader, gets on his ride, smiles lots, says "Hello" to any & all but especially to Cyclists in any of the aforementioned other categories... and when they don't smile back and/or return any spoken greetings issued first by the Rage Cycler: the Rage Cycler unloads untold amounts of pain upon them.
It'd make Critical Mass, Fixie-Bike Messenger types, all of them... look like Steve Carell in The 40 Year Old Virgin.

"I'm just glad to see anyone out on a bike regardless of how they're dressed or behave".  Not me, when I see a smug motherfucker, who can't give me the time of day-when I just gave him some of mine first, fuck him two times.  I suspect strongly, that either yesterday or tomorrow [or even later that same night] he's the same cocksucker behind the wheel of that BMW SUV that just nearly side-swiped me.  Even if he isn't, he is to me.
No, it ain't enough to be "on your bike"...

you still gotta be decent too.

Breaking The Shimano...

So, between my new Phil BB, losing my Shimano canti-brakes for Paul's Comp, and my other X-mas gift, the new Phil hub for The Back Forty, I am officially 92% Shimano-Free.

Okay, so in the next month or so I need to get my shifters [bar-cons] replaced, I'm thinking Silver Shifters with Dia-Tech mounts, a front derailleur... and perhaps, the two most difficult conversions toward 100% Shimano-Freedom: rear derailleur [remember, I want to avoid Campy too... but] and cables/housing for brakes & shifting + downtube cable stops.

Suggestions... anyone?

Perhaps being so closely involved in my personal quest, I have forgotten some brand that is right under my nose... but I don't recall.

...seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all

I started this entry as a comment to Core's excellent latest post and then decided, hell no, I'm going large on this one.  So here it be...

Yes, yes, yes!! My wife has threatened me with no more riding, if I don't lay off my Passive/Agressive nastys when faced with "Lancers" [as I call them]. Her last straw took place when we were out riding and got passed [of course] by a group of 5 Lancers [of course] on their plastic steeds [of course] with obligatory smelly plastic clothing [of course]. The entire 0.04 seconds it took them to zip by, all with that 'special' face on, you know, that one, I was grumbling "Go Lance Go, Eye Of The Tiger... Eye Of The Fucking Tiger".

They all looked over their shoulder at me, one at a time, like I was a complete dickhead...

which is, more or less, true.

Eye Of The Tiger...

On an odd-related note:

I received [for some bizarro reason I cannot figure out] a copy of the new Primal Wear catalog.  It was a marvel to behold.  Seriously.  I stared, read, and then stared again... finally I asked Amy, "Do people actually buy and then wear this shit, seriously?".  She shook her head yes.  I asked 2 more times... twice more she shook her skull in a 'Yepward' direction.

Between the stench of cheap, Chinese-made synthetics, and the completely asinine graphics... all I could conjure up was how fucked up cycling has become and then-

1.  Why so few folks will ever really take it on in a serious, life-long way because so much of its association is with testosterone-bloated, morons who think they have some kind of entitlement because they dress like total idiots.

and...

2.  Why motorists want to run dickheads, dressed this way, over with their SUV's [and in theory, you can't blame them... the motorists, that is].

Anyway... the owner, CEO, whatever the hell he is, of Primal Wear spews on about high gas prices, and making a difference by riding your bike to work, etc in his opening statement in the catalog, yeah, the one that precedes all the garish, banal and pathetic crap clothing he sells.  Someone oughta rub his face into a pile of stinking sheep shit for having the gull to pollute the planet with taste this bad.

There is all this bullshit about the fabrics they use, and what they will do for you.  Ha!  If you're gonna lie pal, go large and use terms like:

"Micro Fuck You Technology"

"Synthetic Groin-Thrusting Polymers"

"Women's tights come with Camel-Toe Contour Panels built-in"

"Super Ultra Dura-Flexer Fibers for out of the saddle Uber-Performance"

" ...and with every purchase of $400.00 or more, we'll include a free 30-day supply of Dr. Mac Hansen's High-Performance Grimace Face 2007: for keeping that ass-kicking, non-smiling, non-talking, grunting demeanor smeared right across your face, because every candy-ass you pass MUST know their place.  Your choice of Caplets or Gel Packs"

 

Better... & Worse:

Had my Pissy Day drastically improved by riding twice- 1st with my Gals, and then later, while they ran errands, by myself.  Did 26.78 miles [a new single ride record for me] in a very low gear.  Came home drenched in sweat, legs feeling like something amputated from Gumby's anatomy...

...but great nonetheless, except a seriously sore throat: that now, this morning, feels like a Red Hot Volcano.  Yippee.

Anyway, enough bitching & moaning.

Still excited about all the goodies that should arrive in the next couple days... stem, levers, etc + all the greatness that's already here [new rear wheel w/Phil hub, Phil BB, etc].

I'm focusing on the Good Stuff [even though every time I talk or swallow, my throat is on fire].

Funny Ride Moment Last Night:
Was riding near a Yuppy Enclave [i.e. over-priced high rise buildings w/shopping malls on their ground floors, gyms everywhere with huge full-wall windows so either they can see us or we can see them, and a Starbucks in every one of them] and came around a corner... there's this guy in a leather jacket talking on his cell, sorta slurring his speech, taking a piss against a car.  Not in between the car and the sidewalk, on the street [see lots of that here... hell, I've done it in an emergency] but drunk enough & chatting away on his phone enough, that he's actually spraying the entire side of a Dodge Neon.  Not really that worthy of mentioning, but what was really spectacular was his girlfriend [or wife] who was down the sidewalk appx. 10 feet, dressed very nicely in an angora sweater, very mini leather mini-skirt, black leather pumps, and black stockings.  She was bent over far enough that her hands were on her knees.  She was mostly facing me as I came around the corner, she looked... well, pained.  She saw me, and turned completely away, with her back to me.  As I passed her 'Man' hosing down the Neon with some urine-soap, she started projectile vomiting.  That kind of projectile vomit that can only occur with copious amounts of beer or liquor, or a stomach flu.  Like a bucket of water being poured from 10 feet up, the contents were absolutely notable in volume... breaking the cold, quiet night air like a tidal wave hitting Omaha, Neb.
Best Part though?
She's facing away from me, almost completely kneeling over onto the sidewalk and she's wearing stockings with a garter belt... and nothing else underneath.  Micro mini completely up and over her ass, all I'm getting are 2 vertical eyes staring back at me.
It was rather obvious that she had worked hard at procuring a nice thong'ish tan line back there though.  All this happened in like .002 seconds and I was racked with guilt for seeing what was so obvious to see.  I danced my eyes elsewhere and bolted by, passing through a cloud of alcohol vapor...

and luckily avoiding any splash-over.

Like Shit...

Slept poorly 2 nights ago, went to bed at 3am, got up at 8am... kept telling myself, "Go ride... ".  Instead waited for Amy to get up, and waited, and waited...

by the time she got up, I was totally exhausted, sleepy and in a foul mood.  Tried to get my jones together for a ride last night, couldn't-even after a nap, decided to hit it hard today [Chloe, who has a cold, got dark at me for not taking her on a ride last night-even though her nose is dripping endless snot and it was 29F outside].  It's too damn hot in this place... I keep waking up with a sore throat, nose dried out like dehydrated onion flakes... pisses me off waking up like that, and tired too.

I think I might be headed for "Daddy rides mostly alone".  When I wait for Amy, I end up waiting forever... and then I end up riding after dark every night.

I feel pissy.

I hate missing a day of riding... worse, I really hate feeling tired and, therefore, wondering if excuses are too easy to come by.  I have to be hard on myself... but I am having a difficult time knowing what is a "Deserved Rest or Reward" or "Bullshit, and Going Too Easy on Myself".  I'd rather stand on the side of "...unless I am pushing, I'm going too easy on myself".  Maybe I'll figure this out later... maybe not.

I feel very pissy today...

that is all.

366 Days

**Edit This post originally was started on Thanksgiving Day but I never had the time to sit and complete it, until now. **

1 year and 1 day ago, I made a decision to change it all, and I was scared shitless too: for if I failed, I knew I was done, kaput, history, ground worm meal, sniffing soil.

I knew it would be difficult at times [most of the time, I figured] but I knew it would be do-able if I Baby-Stepped it.  No looking at the summit, no forethought, no projections of impossibility because everyone said it was, had always said it was, possible... but their eyes said otherwise.  And I knew it too.  Statistics.  Data.  Research, etc... they all said, including the doctors, as you get older, older & heavier...

there is very little chance.  Either belly up to Pills, or go with Surgery.  So few can do it that the odds, stats, don't warrant anything of merit.

And for the longest time, I too... agreed.  And did nothing but accept my fate, and even try my best to hug my fate closer & closer.  Nearer and nearer.

And then it all changed.  I have reasons, I've thought a lot about those reasons: some great, others small.  But in the end, I am still unsure what, exactly, changed in me, in my mind... but it happened.

Weigh-in is coming up again soon, but until then...

------------------

As of today, I now have lost 161.6 pounds.  Yippee!

In related news- I am now flexible enough that I'm about to undertake installing drop bars.  Besides my early X-mas gifts from Amy & Chloe of Paul's canti-brakes, I now have a brand-spanking new Phil Wood BB and Phil Wood rear hub with new wheel [Sun Rhyno-Lite rim-40 hole & new cassette], all awaiting installation.  WOW!!  I am psyched!!

After the handlebar stuff arrives [late this coming week... Nitto stem & Noodle bars, CC gum-hood levers] I'm going to hunker down and do the Paul's rear brake, new bars & stem, new BB, and new rear wheel.  To quote Amy, "How, exactly, did you work this out anyway?  Minus your frameset, you somehow got a brand new bike for X-mas".  ;-)  Cause me is so smart, that's how.  :-]

Riding is changing for me: finding it impossible to want [and good thing, need] to stop for breaks on rides... it's just too damn cold to stop and lose all the heat I've built up.  Rode late last night and the temp was 24F, with wind chill... 15F.  Between wool tights, MUSA pants, wool socks, wool shirt, t-shirt, fleece and windshell jacket... and wool gloves & balaclava, I stay quite toasty.  But the stopping is a serious No-No.  Chloe is ticked about it too.  She likes to stop and see things, until she's too cold... and then she whines.  Ahhh, the joys of the occasional Father-Daughter Riding Team.

Keep Moving, no matter what they say...