Let's redecorate the living room!

I was talking with my pal Lyle the other day. And as often happens, our conversation turned to bikes. On this particular day, we got to chatting about about how traditional “triple triangle” hardtail-type bikes, especially older hand-made ones, are so much fun to look at, as both art and tech with which you can do fun things.

Later that same day, I remembered that it has been just about a year since my ex-wife revealed to me what turned out to be the first of many reasons she had for needing to leave our marriage (ultimately there were more than 20; I kept a list). In that particular moment in October 2024 she told me that one thing that was troubling her was that “everywhere I look, I just see your shit. Especially the garage!  Oh my god, you've completely taken over the garage!"  

True to a point, I'll admit.  Lots of bikes and skis, workbenches and tools out there.  

But, in fairness, I feel she neglected to give me any credit for the fact that there was always ample space for her car to effortlessly be parked inside, too... and also for the fact that most of the tools were there to service and repair not just my shit gear, but likewise our house and the landscaping and outdoor living spaces that surround it.

Aaaanyway, as I was saying, just the other day, closing in fast on that other dark day, the first anniversary of the evening in November when my wife of 28 years said to me, "I just don't love you anymore," having chatted with Lyle and groked certain epiphanies about my life, I moved a few bikes around... brought three of my oldest and favoritest handmade rigs out of the garage and into the house. Now I can see and admire them more often, on the daily in fact, as the works of art they indeed are. 

And if I'm being honest right now, as I look around my redecorated living room, it kinda feels like I've likewise finally fulfilled at least one point of contention in my failed marriage.  I've now quite literally (and arguably also quite ridiculously) put my personal shit anywhere. By doing so, it feels to me as if I've embraced an important step forward in taking full possession of what is now exclusively mine: this house. 

It is (henceforth and inarguably) my space, my home.

After all, home is where your shit is, amirite?

Ibis Mountain Trials (frame serial number 1087) fab'd by Scot Nichols circa 1991

Retrotec Classic (frame serial number 64) fab'd by Bob Seals circa 1993

Repaired by Curtis Inglis circa 1996.

Rock Lobster singlespeed (frame serial number 6) fab'd by Paul Sadoff circa 1985

Let's get a divorce.

Divorce is a world of suck best avoided. 

Divorce is a giant rogue wave sufficient to rend asunder, without warning, half a lifetime's worth of promised hopes and dreams.

Divorce is a muddled muttered mantra of repeated regret.  

Divorce is a long lonely road to nowhere, inevitably heading somewhere, albeit only god-knows-where. 

Divorce is an explosion of great magnitude resulting in the complete and singular destruction of all-things, leaving behind charred scattered remnants and thoroughly annihilated particles.^*

---

I conferred what feels as if it could be one of the last physical reminders (that and this apparently indelible and resistant-to-all-lasers ring-finger-tattoo on my left hand) of my now defunct 28-year marriage to the good folks at the bike shop this week. 

Let's go to France!

Went to Paris (the one in France) for a post-divorce "Tuscan Sun" adventure in July.  Fair to call visiting Paris a long-standing "bucket-list" item of mine. But, given the sad situation I found myself in in January 2025, planning and accomplishing this trip solo came to mean a lot more to me than just another item to check-off that list.

Pleased to report, I had a truly amazing time!  Aside from one breakdown on the RER-B train on my way into the city from the airport (which required me to navigate the massive Gare du Nord train station unrehearsed in order to find an alternative route to my hotel), everything went super smoothly travel-wise. I met lots of good people, ate tons of good food, drank gallons of great wine, and visited innumerable amazing places.  All the things one does while visiting that ancient, complicated, beautiful city.

While I was there, wandering around the city by day on a janky rental bike (and each night via the Métro), I posted a few pictures, along with some wordy captions, to my Instagram.  They're all embedded (and thus preserved) in chronological order below.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by R Chrysler (@rockychrysler)

Just about a bike: Specialized S-Works CX

Select any image to embiggen

A 2000 Specialized S-Works CX popped up on our local Craigslist the other day.  

During our first salvo of correspondence the seller told me he'd had the bike shelved in his garage for several years and now needed the space for other things (a tale as old as time). The seller also told me he had converted it to a 1x11 recently, but that he would willing to include "a box of old parts" in the deal. This turned out to be the entire original XTR-M950 group, the original right-hand Ultegra integrated brake/shift lever, the bespoke S-Works front wheel, and the stock Body Geometry saddle.

I arranged to meet him in a corner of one of the parking lots at the hospital, cash in hand.  Took me 2 minutes to eyeball the rig and shake the seller's hand, "I'll take it."  And that's how deals like this get done.

Let's use a heart-rate monitor!

Several of the following observations were originally posted to the Fifty+ Years Old Forum at mtbr.com on 01 October 2024.

---

I started riding with a heart rate monitor, a Garmin Forerunner 45, in April 2024 and, after several months of data collection, I now find myself absolutely fascinated by what I've been learning about my cardio-vascular health and fitness. I am especially intrigued by the corroboration of what I feel has been a distinct increase in my overall-fitness and threshold-endurance during this summer's riding season. 

Bottom line: I love doing the things I get to do outdoors. My objective in learning to use a heart rate monitor has been to better understand my general overall fitness and health and, quite simply, to maximize however-many years might remain to me to continue to be able to do these essential activities that I love. Below is an inexpert run-down of what I think I'm beginning to understand better about my body based on what my new monitor seems to be telling me.

Just about a bike (and a friend): Dale Shewalter's 1983 Specialized Expedition

I was first introduced to Dale Shewalter in 1993. His sixth grade classroom was located two doors down the hall from the room where I was about to start my student teaching, in fifth grade, with the legendary Grant "Brad" Gerver at Weitzel Elementary School in January of that year.  The always gregarious Gerver was great about taking me around and introducing me, right away, to everyone that I would be working with, and Dale's room was one of the first stops on my first-day tour. 

Having grown up in a multigenerational family of teachers, I immediately recognized Dale as a teacher's-teacher, cut from the same bolt of no-nonsense but ever-compassionate fabric that my mom, grandmother, great-aunt, and great-grandmother had likewise each been hewn from.  Naturally, I liked him right away. And it was my great good fortune that we were able to remain friends for years, long after I completed my student teaching, well into my own career as a professional educator.

Just about a bike: Monē SB2 Klunker [UPDATED]

3.3:1 gain ratio, 45.6 gear inches

Cjell Monē (pronounced: shell money*) proudly runs his mobile custom-fab bike shop out of the back of a former Wonderbread work-truck which is currently parked (at the time of this writing) somewhere near Silver City, New Mexico.

I'm sure Cjell's one-off custom bikes are amazing.  His initial apprenticeship at Black Sheep Bikes, and many subsequent years of experience as a successful independent bike builder, would seem to indicate: he knows well how to wield a torch.  But a one-off custom bike tends to be the sort of unobtainable unicorn which, for most of us run-of-the-mill average-type bike riders, is maybe something we get to plan for and purchase once in a lifetime.  That's been my experience, anyway. 

Somewhat uniquely, however, Monē isn't limited to just producing one-off full customs for his customers, he also produces several models of his bikes in small batches, ready to be sold off-the-rack. The Monē SB2 (small batch, straight bar) Klunker is one of these rigs, handmade in Silver City in limited sizes and quantities by Cjell himself.