Large Fella on a Bike

Born Hard in The Minneapolis-->

Nothing, NOTHIN', gets bigger than...

...that.

Yes, that just happened.

Get 'em folks, they are going FAST [took delivery of 250, already down to 127].

Keep Ridin'... Always

LFoaB Stickers, In Stock:

Have at 'em...

they're hot, fresh, irreverent and full of Good Cheer.

And our own in-house LFoaB 'Merchant Fashionista' offers you the following [click 'em for bigness]:

 

 

Paypal link is off to your right [at the top of the inner right-side column]... Good Times.

[$2 bucks a pop, includes shipping anywhere in North America, buy five get two free!

If you want some and don't reside in North America, contact me at istanbul_tea at yahoo dot com *you should know how to reconstruct that address, right?*]

Keep Ridin'... Always

Chloe Rides a PDX-Custom:

 
[Click 'em for BIG]

Chloe and her personal Master Mechanic, IRide&Jump&FallAllOverMinneapolis, were seen making a rare appearance at The CRC.  A fella, out from the general area of PDX, Bend actually,  Wade [I think he said his name was], was in town and sporting a very cool custom FFT [folder, fat-tire].

Right after these fotos were taken, Chloe's personal Master Mechanic released her with one solid push...

...and she shot straight thru the shop: taking out 3 new fixed gears, 5 Chrome messenger bags, 1 choco-chip cookie and 11 stickers [she ate the cookie while hucking Hurl's 'Lizard-Lounge' garage].

102% rad.

Keep Ridin'... Always

The Inverse Life Output Ratio Factor:

...re-examined [not that I ever examined it for a first time, or even have heard of this before, prior to just making it up in my brain a few seconds ago].

While brushing my teeth this morning, I came upon the I.L.O.R.F. [Inverse Life Output Ratio Factor]... and it seemed curious to me. 

First, the origins.

The origins of this thought are/were born out of the many folks: in-person, via the blog, email, phone, etc, who contacted me for one reason or a'nother... and while they ask whatever question, or state whatever statement, they are asking/stating they -also- seem to always fit in some remark, in some form or a'nother, that it must feel great to basically return to some form of Childhood thru all the changes that I've gone through.  Or, be fit enough to feel like a Child.  Or, be small enough to do Child-like things.  I'm not sure exactly what they exactly mean, but I always get a sense of what they mean.  And it's true.  And it always makes me think about what they mean, plus I marry that with how I do feel... and well, this thing finally popped into my head this morning and started to make sense.  Sort of.

Seems to me that when we are young, we can do lots -or at least think we can- and as we age we think we can do less -or at least we think we can.  So what would happen to that person who, because of whatever reason[s], had it go the other way?  Say: a person whose 'state' prohibited them from Child-like activities when young, and then thru age, wisdom, whatever... were allowed to head into that state as technically [chronologically speaking] an adult?  And no, I'm not talking about someone like Michael Jackson, Madonna or even Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan [folks who make a boatload of bread and then go out of their gourd with crazy spending/behavior/reckless stupidity... ] I'm talking about a person who sort of got left behind, or didn't get in, and then -when all their peers were pursuing chronologically correct endeavors- got a chance at what their peers had, back then, but had forgotten about, discarded, left behind... and instead now were/are an adult.  That kind of person.

For me, I kind of feel like that person.  However, it's not like I didn't get to do kid stuff, I did.  I had a pretty normal kidhood... Ups & Downs included.  But teens and onward, that's where -just maybe- it wasn't so normal.  Some of it my doing, some of it: how society made me feel, and then I adopted that feeling about myself as well.  Society can do that to a person.  Make them feel like a freak, like a weirdo, like a Leper... like, "You're not one of Us, go away".

And so, I went away.

And now, fitting [Pun Intended/and Not Intended] in... I am like a piece of something that sort of has an acceptable wrapper on the outside, but me -on the inside- I still feel like a freak mostly.  But that's okay with me because the people that mean and matter most to me, they get me... they understand.

Begin Sidebar-

Because of that entry, "Your Piehole... " I've actually gotten death threats.  And that seems 'off' to me.  Why would someone threaten my life because I gave my opinion on food, cars, bikes, and folks who eat a certain way?  It was just an opinion, nothing more.  I don't have any influence on much of anything.  I just like riding my bike, and living my life.

And now it looks like the FBI wants to chat with me because of that post, and some others of mine as well.  They wanna chat with me because I ride a bike, because I'm Vegan, because I blog, because I was in the local paper and think I have some kind of influence and pull... and because a buncha Republicans are coming to Saint Paul for their convention.  Sure, I'll go chat with you... but you wont like my opinions either.  But, they're just my opinions.  Opinions.  All I got is a bike, my girls: Amy & Chloe, a small handful of great friends, and a coupla recipes for how I cook b-fast, lunch & dinner.  I'm no Critical Mass'r, I don't have any inside-info on Cycler-Mobs, don't attend Vegan Potluck Dinners, and really am pretty static in my general Day to Day routine.  But sure, we can chat.  [Most interesting: the day that a friend sends me the City Pages link [above], I get 3 emails with requests for meeting someone at a local caffe shop to discuss bikes, politics, the RNC and information about folks I ride with.]

-End O' Sidebar

So now, as a 44 year old, but able to do things I could not at, say, 15 or 20 or 30 years old [and it sure feels good too, to not have my only options be sitting & watching], I notice that -yet again- I don't fit in well.  Because my chronological peers -mostly- are interested in pursuits I got into at 15, 20 or 30 years old [watching TV, watching Things, Watching in general], and because I couldn't really play their Reindeer Games back then, while I -now- can and want to partake in the very things they have either grown bored with, or can no longer physically do/want to do... they now, and me now: hold little in common, once again.  It's like trying to push together two opposite sides of two rare earth neodymium magnets... never seems to come together.

Put it this way:

We go to playgrounds a lot on our rides.  And so do other folks.  I see all these parents standing around the edge of the playground watching their kids play: the parents chat with one another, they wear Docker's, they all look concerned, preoccupied, worried, uninterested, bored and interested simultaneously... I want to, and do, go into the playground and play.

Did any of this make sense?  I hope so... it feels like a feeling that makes sense, but the writing-it-down part of it, not so sure if that worked or not.

 

Going off riding, out into more wind [all the locals always tell me, "Usually doesn't get this windy out here"... but it's been mostly windy now for a year], and sunshine.

Keep Ridin'... Always

PDX looks like a "Lock"...

Anyone out there from there?

If so, please respond/reply [you can also use my email: left-side column at the bottom] with suggestions on 'Hoods, good hospitals [for Amy to gig in], links, parks, must-see's/must do's, etc... it'd be really helpful.  Mike M. and Beth H., have been very helpful [and we'll need you too-a lot more, as this thing closes up] but any other folks in Portland who wanna chime in, we'd really appreciate it... outside of a few Internet Friends, we know absolutely no one out there [i.e. old friends from school, workmates, etc].  So, as such, it's a cold [and blind] move.

Hopefully -for anyone reading this- you already have a decent sense of what were about and like as a family... so a neighborhood that fits us is kinda important [and so is a nice bikey commute to & fro work for Amy at a -finger's crossed- nearby hospital]. 

Best Case... single family house, 1000 to 1200/month.

Many Thanks in advance for any & all help/suggestions offered.

Looking like late September for the outbound ship west... as a family: we want to stay put for summer and enjoy some of the warmth after this very, V E R Y, long winter [plus, tie up some loose ends/projects/learning].

This is gonna be a tough one for us though, no kidding around, we've met and made more close friends here in just under a year than in a whole lotta years back east.  Going to throw a big party nearing the end o' summer for all the folks here in Minnesota who have made us feel at home & like one of theirs.

Heavy Hearts, Glasses Tipped toward the Future: Westward Bound, Wagons Ho!

Keep Ridin'... Always

The Joys Of Life...

Seeing your daughter smile on a bright, sunny day while riding behind you on her tag-a-long.

Coming back home after 22 miles of riding with your daughter, and your wife -the single greatest person in your Universe- is standing at the gate in your backyard, gate open, and smiling.

Getting trapped into a sidewalk session with two Mormon's on bikes, out on their 2-year 'Mission', having a few folks in cars yell [at me] to leave 'them' alone, having one of the two Mormon's walk over to that car, now at a red light, and tell them, "No, we're bugging him!", having the driver of that car look pinched and then drive away... and 45 minutes later, actually having the other Mormon youth tell me, after looking at their watches repeatedly, "We should get going... yes, we'll consider rethinking our convictions to the church, thank you for the informative talk on organized religion.  And yes, we agree, the Osmond's -as a whole- are very creepy".

Eating a not-overly-ripe banana, while sitting in the grass and sunshine at the canal between Lake Calhoun and Lake of the Isles... while Chloe scrambled around trying to catch a butterfly.

Talking to my buddy BBBB at that same spot mentioned just above, and him telling me over the phone that, "Yes, I'll upgrade you to SS on your next bike, at no xtra charge... because you are one bad-ass motha".  ;-)

Watching 4 guys in a pace line, with full-on Time Trial gear, going -maybe- 12mph while Chloe and me passed them at 19mph, with Chloe honking her newish Honka Hoota and shouting, "EYE OF THE TIGER BABY... EYE OF THE TIGER!!!".

And tomorrow... the weather's supposed to be even better.

Goodbye:

...Winter,

, Spring.

Keep Ridin'... Always

Like Waiters in a Cafe...

...friends can come in and out of one's life.  And it's both Good-n-Bad.

Good, because it's a wonderful gift to reacquaint yourself with them: and that previous paragraph of time you had with them back then.  And then to catch up and spend some time sharing all the things that have come and gone since that last chapter.

Bad?

Bad, when they were like a serious blood brother.  Bad, because you had so much in common with them, their existence, how they thought & looked at things... like you really didn't have to say much, or complete a sentence, because they were there, on it, with their thoughts too.

Back in 1990, wow... that's 18 years ago, man that looks harsh typed out.  Okay, so back in 1990 I was given the phone number of a bass player because I needed to find someone for a gig, and all the regular guys weren't available.  So I called this number, and that guy answered the phone... and we ended up talking for nearly an hour.  A very funny, informative, odd... but always interesting, hour.  I recall hanging up the phone and thinking, "This guy is gonna be a great friend".  And that's exactly what he became.  We, became.  I also remember pissing him off during that same phone call... we started talking about books and he mentioned he was reading some philosophical type book and I said something like, "Oh... so you're one of those Self-Help-Book people huh?".  He didn't like that very much.  He asked me what was wrong with self-improvement, and I said something to the effect of, "Nothing.  I just think real change is inside each of us, not a purchasable thing for $15.99".  He really didn't like that answer either.  I changed the subject.  Years later he told me that I had really angered him with that remark, but that it was also one of the most endearing things about me initially too.  I'm not sure what that means though.

We gigged together.  Hung together.  Ate together.  Shared stories, thoughts, concerns, opinions, dilemmas and successes, heartbreak, utter victories, and everything in between within Life.  All of it and more.

I met Amy, moved to Michigan and then called my friend with the amazing news that I was getting married... and he drove from Pennsylvania to Ann Arbor, Michigan to stand with me -his friend- at my wedding.  He propped me up when I almost passed out at that wedding.  He told everyone to take a knee, when I was shaking so badly from nerves at that same wedding... and they listened.  He had composed a song for Amy & me, based on a traditional American Indian chant/prayer, on flute and played it at our wedding.  When Amy and me left on our Honeymoon, he stayed in our house for an extra day before leaving Michigan for Pennsylvania, and when we returned to our house 4 days later... he had left his treasured necklace for me.  It was hanging from the volume knob of my stereo receiver with a note attached to it.  The note told of the necklace, what it meant to him, the necklace's origins, and then how he felt I should have it as a blessing of our wedded union.

That was in 1998... 8 years after first meeting him.

His life was changing, so was mine.

Amy and me moved back to the NYC area, and started a family.  He met, and then eventually married, a very fine woman.  We kept in touch via the phone.  Sporadically.

At best.

After not having seen him since our wedding in 1998, we made plans for Amy, Chloe and me to travel from NYC out to Pennsylvania to have lunch with him and his wife.  That was in the summer of 2003.  Too long.  But it was great, and to finally meet this woman who had meant so much to my friend that he, and her, wanted to solidify their union thru marriage, that was very cool.  I wanted, for myself, to meet someone who felt a similar -but of course, different, but still similar- feeling for my friend, to see what they would be like together, act like together, and what she would treat him like.  She was excellent.  I was beyond happy for both of them.

Years clicked by, and again... we kept in touch, sporadically.  I would call a lot and leave messages, weeks or maybe a month would go by with no return calls, but -always- he, eventually, would call back.  All of our calls always took on the same opening theme: him apologizing profusely for not calling back sooner.  Hey, this cat was my Bro... I was just glad to hear his voice.  The apologizing, well that's not really necessary as long as he called -even eventually- and all was well, square, with us: me and him, forever.  Friends, true/real Friends, are like that.  A conversation stalled by one hundred years can be picked right back up, dusted off, in no time flat.  Brothers [and I guess Sisters too] are like that.

He got interested in sound engineering, had stopped playing jazz, was back to really digging what brought him to music in the first place -Traditional Bluegrass- and, also, Native American Indian music & culture, seemed extremely cool and happy with those choices.  He always seemed a little bugged that I had retired from music, concerned really.  Wanted me to get back to it.  But we were solid, extremely solid.

Early 2007...

By then, Amy and me, had firmed up our plans for leaving the NYC area and relocating to Minnesota.  My friend and I talked about it, he was excited for us.  We talked via the phone once in January, and then February... and then twice in March of 2007.  Each time he would ask how things were advancing toward the move, and I'd update him.  We also talked of getting together for our final, big send-off.  He agreed that it had been too long, we needed to see one another before the big move day in late May, plus he hadn't been to NYC in a long while.  It seemed like a lock.  We would definitely see one another before May 29th [our move date].

God, how I wish I could remember ALL of the details of that phone call better, much better, than I can now.  If I could, if I would, I might possibly figure out -or somehow, see some sort of writing on the wall- that it would be the last time I talked to him.

Since that phone call, the one where he was so excited to see us off, to hang, to physically hug, all of it: I have called endlessly, emailed endlessly, and even tried a text message... all, to no avail.

The internet shows me nothing.  Email gets bounced back.  Their answering machine provides the voice of his wife, with the same greeting that it's always had, but message after message nets me nothing but silence in return.

Most disturbing, I found myself yesterday sitting at Lake Nokomis, bike by my side-leaning against a tree, calling yet again... same outgoing message, and then me leaving another message.  After, I go to a caffe shop for their WiFi connection and searching Google for local, and then regional obituaries.  It made me feel sick to my stomach, like an itch I did NOT want to scratch, but had to.  Thankfully, nothing was yielded.

14 Months.  Fourteen Months, it has been.  We talked, he said he'd be there to see us off.  That was it, the last time I talked to him.  Like one big, dark void.

I go distinctly between abject fear that he is unwell, sick, worse, or not even here on this earth any longer... and then: wanting to find him, beat the absolute shit out of him, and then hug him, and then beat his ass all over again.

"T" if you ever read this... please call, email, or write me?  Where have you gone to, my Friend?  You're making my heart sad, and my mood a real dark blue.

Whatever happened to Me & You?

Keep Ridin'... Always

Feedback is always interesting:

Since my entry on folks who feel that simply riding a bike -and not examining what they consume for food/fuel while on that same bike- makes them distanced [i.e. better] than the average motorist, I've received quite a bit of very interesting and supportive email [I'm guessing these email folks wouldn't, or didn't, want to reply publicly here because they were concerned about getting their heads taken off in their support for my entry].

However, quite a few of them sent some links that I wasn't aware of.  And those links dovetail nicely with my entry.

Here they are [and if you're interested in further examining this issue, I'd urge folks to check them out]:

The Meat-Powered Bicycle 

and...

Bicycling wastes gas?  Yes, if your fuel is beef.

In a perfect world, and no this isn't -and double no, I'm far from that ideal too [but I certainly want to always better myself and let the fall out from that hopefully do its thing], I would move to everywhere I could, or should, to reduce my carbon footprint.  But alas, our move from the NYC area to Minnesota -to have a better riding environment- was a costly, death-defying and big enough transition for us as a family.  And hopefully our next move to PDX will be less eventful... even though it will put us in not much better steed to have year-round vegetables, locally-grown, on our table.  And, I suspect, it would use a lot of fuel having us relocate daily for all of our 'locally-grown' vegetables [Mexico and Guatemala for dinner, Spain and California for lunch, back to Mexico and then Brazil and the Honduras for breakfast... good way to get frequent flyer miles though].  But we're trying, and so are lots of other folks too.

It was not my intent to anger or piss off folks who do eat meat, or ride and eat meat, or eat meat and then ride... or even eat meat while riding, or ride meat they named while eating their bike.  It was an entry, born out of 2 rather simple things:

1.  Growing increasingly tired of a certain smug group of cyclers who constantly bash motoring culture, and that cultures seemingly endless umbilical cord to gas and increasing gas prices, while feeling great that they aren't attached -somehow/anyhow- to that very same mentality, culture and nuisance... and yet they consume, with an extreme vengeance & urgency, a day to day diet of foodstuffs that do, and studies truly confirm it, similar [and perhaps more] damage than the culture they, so very much, want to distance themselves from.

2.  As an idea to think about, ponder, and then possibly... make strides to alter in their own lives, for their own selves.

Nothing more, Nothing less.

Given the choice between clearing a room with a well-placed, and silent, stink bomb or a fully ignited Molotov Cocktail in a former 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke... I choose the Molotov cocktail time and time again [even though my wife, and my lil' inner voice of common sense -both- tell me, "The well-placed, silent stink bomb works better"].

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

Went for a Family Ride today:

But first Chloe made me a new bracelet [the old one she'd made me disintegrated from showering], and presented it to me on a caffe shop break during our ride!

Check it out [click 'em for big]:

And Amy called her mom to wish her a happy b-day, and belated Mother's Day-

Chloe took a foto of me watching a cycler ride by eating a hamburger [that was a joke]:

And then Chloe found a twig and began cleaning the sidewalk cracks [we heard it pays good in some far-away places, places we'll probably have to move to once enough people hate me]...

And then, the bracelet-maker herself:

Keep Ridin'... Always

Franchising the LFoaB Dream-->

Occasionally, from time to time, over the past few years, I'll get inquires about LFoaB [in case you don't know what that is, or are using Dial-Up and a 14k modem, it's Large Fella on a Bike] merchandise.  Things like t-shirts, patches, stickers, H2O bottles, etc... hell, even Amy thought they were good ideas.  Me... not so much.

The other problem for me, besides not liking the entire idea one bit was this... "For what purpose?" and "To what end?".

Well, since -and apparently- my whatever you call it [fame, celebrity, legend??] has become Local: if not a touch National... and based on the increase in marriage proposals I now receive from Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Japan and Nigeria... International, I figured it was time to strike while the iron was still smolderingly hot.

So I committed to the rather large outgoing expense of 250 stickers.  250 stickers which I will now offer to any and all that will pony up $2.00 [and hey, that includes shipping to anywhere 'cept outside North America... for you fine folk, contact me so we can figure out shipping] per sticker.

Many folks were wondering what inspirational slogan I'd slap across the very first bit of LFoaB merchandise, and I have to admit it took some time... okay, lots of time, to conjure it up.  But, I eventually did.

Some folks figured it would have to do with journeys, changes, vast inner-searches of the Mind, Heart, Body & Soul.  Other's thought it a no-brainer and would be "Keep Ridin'... Always".  Only Amy, and I suspect because she truly knows me/understands me/has had-still does-always will-have an insider's view into how & what & why I think the way I do, knew what to expect...

...and even she gasped, and then fell on the floor laughing, when she saw the proof before it went off to go into production.

The interesting part about this sticker is this:

If you actually know me, you get it...

and if you only know me thru this place, LFoaB, or thru the couple articles floating around about me, you might get it too.

And best of all?  When you apply this sticker to what ever surface you apply it to, the sticker instantly becomes about you, and only you.

Brilliant eh?  See, and they said I'd never amount to Jackshit [or his older sister Jill].

I coulda' been a contender on Madison Ave... but instead all I got was this lousy, shitty, sticker idea.

And if these sell out, and the demand is still there, cycling caps [or bottles] might just be next...

So, here it is [the sticker is rectangle and measures 4.25 x 1.38]:

[click it to see it big]

Available on, or after, May 25th [I'll put up a Paypal button for easy ordering]

Keep Ridin'... Always

Meanwhile...

"Someone's boring me. I think it's me."
~Dylan Thomas

It's beautiful outside, I'm going for a bike ride...

"...and then off to Wendy's for a spicy chicken sandwich w/xtra mayonnaise, Biggie fries and a Biggie Coke."
~Dave Thomas

Keep Ridin'... Always