Let's work at the local bicycle shop!

This post was originally workshopped on my Instagram and in the Fifty+ Years Old forum at mtbr.com.

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Old-man. Mouthbreather.

I never thought of myself as old. 

Until recently. 

The harsh reality of being me in this moment is that I’m at least 30, and in several cases 40 years older than everyone I work with at the bike shop (except for my good friend, Ken, who owns the place and has a couple years on me). Despite this constant reminder of my ever increasing age, it is, nonetheless, my privilege to toil alongside all of these amazing young people selling this thing (selling an experience, really) that we all passionately, even obsessively love. 

But this work, like all work, is hard work. "That's why they call it Work," my hard-working baby brother is fond of saying.  Retail at the sales-floor level, no matter what you're selling, is super tough and any amount of time spent working on the (concrete) floor during the summer season at Absolute Bikes Flagstaff is guaranteed to be a marathon endeavor. Not only is there a lot to know about each make and model of bike we sell, and an obtuse and thoroughly unintuitive point-of-sale system to master, there's also the simple fact that every customer who comes in through the front door brings with them a unique set of challenges due to their distinct personal peculiarities and predilictions.  

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, instantly piquing my interest.

During our first salvo of correspondence, the seller told me that 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). 

He 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 box, it turned out, contained the entire original XTR-M950 group, and the original right-hand Ultegra integrated lever, and the original front wheel with its bespoke S-Works hub, and the original Body Geometry saddle.

Thoroughly intrigued, 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. Told him, "I'll take it!" without any haggling. Gave him every penny he was asking, which was $350, box of parts included.

Just about a bike: Matt Chester singlespeed [UPDATED]

3.4:1 gain ratio, 46.3 gear inches

UPDATE: This Matt Chester MuTinyman served me well for many, many years but was officially removed from service and disassembled in August 2024 due to a fatal frame failure. Its major organs were donated to aid in the well-being and ongoing utility of several other bikes. Additional details about the deconstruction of the Chester can be found below.

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Near as I can figure, Matt Chester, a resident of Leadville, Colorado, began fabricating and selling bicycles made from titanium tubing out of his home workshop sometime early in 1999. Per his now-mothballed website, he only built bikes from Ti, focused his work exclusively on singlespeed bicycles, and tried very hard (though not always successfully) to convince all of his customers to get their bikes built with 29" (700c) wheels.  He refused to install disc-brake tabs, entirely shunned eccentric bottom bracket shells, yet nonetheless eagerly charged people for repairs to other manufacturer's broken or damaged titanium frames.  

Also, near as I can figure, sometime around 2003, Matt Chester, now a resident of Salida, Colorado, had moved his operation down-valley to the south and was building his bikes in a friend's garage.  It would seem that, around this time, Chester began to carry-out a kind of haphazard, perhaps even initially unintentional, deceptive scheme amongst his customer base, apparently taking new orders along with hefty deposits, purchasing tubing and supplies for older as-yet undelivered orders with the new-customer money, and hoping everyone, including his friend (a mutual friend of both of ours, as a matter of fact) who was leasing him shop space in his garage, would remain none the wiser (he did not; he got wise).  As with most such schemes, Chester's seems to have eventually come apart, as he most likely fell further and further behind in fulfilling his orders. It appears he was at times years behind, failing to deliver to those who had put down $1000, $2000 or more, anything but empty promises of "Soon," proffered only after persistent pestering and almost always via email.

Just about a bike: Specialized Fuse 6Fattie [UPDATED]

The archives here at rockychrysler.com never lie.  A quick glance at them and you'll see: I haven't written a Just about a bike blog post about any of my bikes since July 2016.  That's kind of a shame.  Honestly, it is.  Because I still have a few fun bikes that I haven't told you about yet.

I'll admit, there was a period of time there, beginning around fall of 2016, where I had very little to say about anything here on the old blog-space.  For lots of reasons.  So I mostly didn't.  I put up a scant 20 posts from 2016 through 2020.  Truth is, it has been quite a while since I really felt inspired to sit down and write... So I am quite pleased to report that the mood to write has resurfaced somewhat, and that a few ideas have popped into my head of late.

We'll start with something simple: my "new" bike, a first-generation 2018 Specialized Fuse Expert 6Fattie hardtail.  Really, it's called a 6Fattie?  Yep. An unfortunate marketing misstep, calling a bike, even a mid-fat (or anything other than an ample blunt), a 6Fattie, isn't it? I think so (and I'm pretty sure Specialized came to think so eventually, too.  They dropped the word "fattie" for the second generation bikes).  I've always assumed it's intended as a riff, a kind of portmanteau in fact, on the bike's stock wheel/tire size: 650b hoops, 40mm rims, and 3.0" tubeless mid-fat tires, which is, for sure, a bit on the portly side of things... right where I always like my wheels and tires to be!  And it's really for the best not to hold its somewhat unfortunate moniker against it, 'cause, in a nutshell, I'm here to tell ya, the Specialized Fuse 6Fattie rocks!

Just about a bike: Surly Cross-Check [UPDATED]

Early in the summer of 2001, about six months after I bought my first Surly, a Steamroller, I bought my second, a Cross-Check.

I had visions in my head back then of trying my hand at cyclocross racing.  At the time I thought I might excel in the format.  But to this day, I've yet to enter such a race and don't think I ever will.  That ship has surely sailed.

Just about a bike: Surly Steamroller [UPDATED]

4.8:1 gain ratio, 65.6 gear inches

Long before I got my Pugsley (which of all my Surly bikes ride most often these days) I got a Steamroller (and then, a little later on, I ordered a Cross Check, too). 

Mud brown, the first-generation (circa 2000) Steamroller was only sold in that color and, likewise, only as a frame-set.  

I like to imagine that I was an early-adopter of the whole fixed-gear thing.  Not true by a century or two, I know.  But still, in these parts, when I bought it way back when, there weren't very many of us riding fixed gear bikes, that's for sure.

Just about a bike: Specialized Deja Two tandem

When we got married in January of 1997 they closed the bike shop for the afternoon so that everyone could attend our wedding. That was pretty special, and not something that I can recall them doing very often, if ever again, otherwise.  It was great to have everyone there (except for Ken, who's mother was getting married back-East on the same day) to celebrate with us.  Their presence alone surely would have been sufficient to please us.

Nevertheless, we were made doubly-happy at our reception when they presented us with an unexpected "shop gift" which they had all chipped-in together to purchase for us: a brand new Specialized Deja Two tandem mountain bike frame.

In my opinion it remains, without a doubt, the most satisfying and enduring gift we got that day, rivaled, of course, only by our abiding love for one another.

My wife agrees.

And we have spent hundreds of hours together on our tandem (occasionally with our kid attached by Trail-a-Bike, too), all over the southwest, during the past 16+ years, reaffirming both of these facts.

Thanks, again, Absolute Bikes-friends!

Thanks, as well, to our friend Chris, who "sold" us his old crank-reducers (I've yet to pay him for them... for like four years), these days it's pretty much my daughter and I who ride the tandem together.  It's kinda become "our thing" and a wonderful means for spending time together, just the two of us, doing something we both enjoy.

She's become a great little stoker and already knows the local trail system like a native (which she is).  Her endurance continues to impress me as well.  We can turn around a 15-mile loop without complaint or fatigue in a little over an hour together, talking the entire time, motoring up hills, and descending like fiends, whooping at the top of our lungs!

Fact: I've never once returned from any tandem ride, ever, either with my wife or my kid, unsatisfied or wishing that I'd ridden by myself.

I read or heard somewhere, once-upon-a-time, that Specialized's tandems were fabricated by American Bicycle Manufacturing in the early 1990s.  The Deja Two's big, beautiful welds and the unique derailleur hanger certainly support this contention.

Our tandem's basic build has changed very little over the years, since I initially put it together shortly after our wedding.

Ken built the wheelset for me, Mavic hoops on high-flange XT tandem hubs.  Shimano DX top-mount thumbies, XT front and rear derailleurs, plus first-generation XT v-brakes are all adequate equipment most of the time.  A Ritchey tandem crankset, a Specialized stoker-stem, and a Rock Shox Duke (perfectly color-matched out of the box, natch) round out the very basic, no-frills parts mix that's served us well, with very few failures, for more than 16 years now.

For the record: our tandem's staying in the family.  There's no other bike in the garage that we would be less inclined to sell, no matter how much we might need the money.  It's a part of our family, like a good dog or a cherished heirloom.  In fact, our daughter's already asked us to promise to give her our tandem when she has kids of her own so that she can take them riding when they're big enough to stoke for her.

That's pretty high-praise, I think.

And, one thing's for certain: we will.

Archival Footage: Old Brown Shoes

The following post was originally published at FlagstaffBiking.org on May 10, 2003.

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I've got an old pair of shoes, a set of simple, brown, eight-eyed Docs, that I’ve been wearing regularly, almost daily, for nearly ten years; I’ve never owned more useful footwear. I wear them to work several times a week.

I wear them when I'm working around the house.

I wear them when I ride Pipeline, Elden Spring, and Forces Of Nature home on my awkward Bianchi Incline commuter bike.

Hey fatty!

Need more of this.

I am fat.

Not obese. Not yet.  But fat I am. Fatter than I've ever been.

One-hundred-ninety. That's what I weighed-in at yesterday (and today). After my ride.  After crossing paths with my old friend Tony, the manager at Absolute Bikes where I used to spend my summers, up on Secret Trail out in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey fatty!" he called out as we recognized each other from some distance away.  I greeted him with the same, of course.  Though it really wasn't true; he's as fit as he's ever been right now, I think.

I am not, however, so his greeting didn't shock me. I've been aware of my new bulkyishness for some time; waistbands are good barometers of such things and mine have been growing ever-snugger of late.

When I was fast, years ago, I was 160.  For the last decade or so, I've felt best at about 175.

It was when Tony said, "Look at your legs, they're all chubby.  You've got chubby fat-guy legs, Johncoe!" that I resolved something needs to be done about my situation.  I don't want to be that-guy, all pudgy and stuffed into his lycra.  But right now, I guess I am.

And this.

A lot of excuses can be made, of course, all new-job-related.  But they really don't matter, nor do they change the foundation of my dilemma.  I need to lose some weight.  I'm thinking I need to work on getting back to 175.  What's that, 15 pounds?  That should be doable, right, for someone active and healthy?  How long should it take to get rid of 15 pounds, without killing myself through starvation?  A few months, probably.

School's out in early June, a little over a month from now.  Can I get there by then, so I'm more ready for the Tuesday Morning Ride?  Probably not.  But maybe close.  The days are longer, so maybe I can start getting out on a ride or two during the week after work, before dinner.  If I can just find more time to ride, I think the weight will come off easier than if I try to starve myself back to 175.  I think that makes the best sense: ride more, eat a little less.  Right?

The bottom line: I need more time to ride.  Less time behind a desk. More time on wheels in the woods.  Riding's more fun when you're less fat; exercise is good for the soul; the woods are lovely, dark and deep.  There are a million more good reasons why I need to do this.  And I'm gonna.

Don't wanna be fatty-fat-fat no more.

Old number 64

My fancy bike is broken and I'm too embarrassed to take it down to the shop and admit that I don't know how to fix it.  It's got a bubble or something in the rear brake system which has progressively been causing the brake to perform more and more poorly.  In the course of the 20 years that I've been hanging around at Absolute Bikes, I've maybe had a bike in for a legit repair two or three times.  And I've never filled out a repair ticket in the past 17 years when, as an official employee, I was always able to fix all of my bikes on my own, or hang the broken one in the stand after work and ask the mechanics for help as-needed.

No more.  My new job pretty much prevents me from working for the shop this coming summer, just as it did last summer.  So my opportunities to get free advice or assistance from the pros after-hours, in exchange for beers, are basically gone.  I could take advantage of one of them, and beg for help, but that just feels so lame.  So I'm stuck.  One of the things I like about all the other bikes in my garage is that I know how to fix all of them.  This new bike, with its fancy suspension, indexed shifters, and disc brakes is quite foreign to me.  And, at the moment I've neither the time nor the inclination to learn how to repair these components on my own.

So, as I said, I'm stuck.  My new bike has now been broken, just hanging there, unused, in the garage for two weeks.  Drives me crazy.

Fortunately, when it comes to other bikes to ride in the interim, I'm not without a few pleasant options.

So pretty.
Click to enlarge

Today I rode my Retrotec, old number 64.  It was super-fun!  Up Super-moto and across Newham.  A great ride!  Something about that bike, dunno what it is... the way it handles, the way it rails through corners, that it was my first-bike... Hard to put a finger on it.  But it never fails to disappoint.

Love that bike!

But I've gotta get off the dime and just eat my pride and take the big, broken fancy bike down to the shop and drop it off and let the pros fix it up for me.  Otherwise it's just gonna hang there forever, languishing until it turns back to dust.  It sure as heck ain't gonna fix itself.

Maybe I'll take it in tomorrow.  It shouldn't be such a big deal, huh.

Yeah.  I'll take it in on Sunday.  And then go ride the Retro again!

Little Lindy

We watched the new Flag-centric mountain biking movie Changing Gears together as a family the other night.  It's a fine local film, fun to watch and lovingly made; it tends to be about the early days of mountain biking in Flagstaff.  But the best part of all was seeing so many of our old friends in it, including Linden, the former retail manager at Absolute Bikes, and one of the best, fastest, most winningest and friendliest riders around.

My daughter loves Linden, always has, since she was a little-little baby.  Probably because Linden's always made Bekah feel special.  No matter how frazzled Linden's day on the salesfloor has become, whenever we stop in to say hello, she has always taken the time to greet Bekah with a smile, give her a big hug, and a swing around in circles... something cool that only Linden does for her.

So it was extra special to Bek when my wife decided to call her "Little Lindy" as she was riding along on her bike so capably in the woods today.  It's a nickname that just might stick.  Gotta admit, just like Linden, our kid's really got it when it comes to handling her bike on the trails!

Poster Girl [UPDATED]

We bought our daughter a new bicycle the other day. It's her fourth bike, a real one, for a big-girl, with 20-inch wheels, hand brakes, gears to shift, and front shocks. She's pretty stoked about it. So are we.

She's basically the poster-girl for Specialized Hotrock and Hotwalk bikes.  Chiefly because her daddy sometimes works at Absolute Bikes, but also because they're really great little bikes.  Below, I've thrown together a quick chronology of her bikes, from today all the way back to the beginning...

Hotrock 20" -- Sept. 2011	Hotrock 20" -- Sept. 2011
Hotrock 16" -- October 2010	Hotrock 16" -- February 2011
Hotrock 12" -- April 2010	Hotrock 12" -- July 2009
Hotwalk 12" -- Marsh 2009	Hotwalk 12" -- May 2008

Never had training wheels.  Makes me proud...


UPDATE: 27 October 2016

For her birthday in April 2014, we bought her another Specialized, another Hotrock in fact, this time one with 24" wheels and a triple chainring, 21 gears in all. Bigger wheels and the wider range of gears made a huge difference. She rode this bike with increasing proficiency for about two and a half years, until the seat post was at its max.

This bike made her a mountain biker. A full on, legit, shredder of singletrack.

Then, 'round about the end of the summer of 2016, it became quite obvious that she was going to need yet another upgrade, to a much larger bike with even bigger wheels.

Fortunately, we were given the opportunity to buy her a like-new but slightly-used Surly Pugsley from a fleet of winter rentals that were being off loaded by a local outfitter and friend.  He gave us a great deal and she's been killin' it on her new super-big wheels ever since.  I'm hoping she hangs on to this rig for a long time, perhaps even forever if she doesn't end up too tall.

I love my Surlys.  I'm pretty sure she does, too.

UPDATE: 01 May 2017

Stoked, once again, to have come across a classic steel Ritchey P-bike (a 1995 Crazy Pete) in super-nice condition the other day. Fits my now-12-year-old daughter perfectly and likely will for some time, maybe for always.

So fun to watch her shred on a seriously-classy vintage bike that was built (to shred) some 10 years before she was born.

For your viewing pleasure

The first-annual Sedona Fat Tire Festival took place Saturday and Ken and I headed down early, hoping to have a look around and get in a bit of a shred, too. Before we got to the venue, we dropped some stuff off at Absolute Bikes in VOC and met up with our old-friend John, who lives in Phoenix now. John brought along his work-pal Ernie, too.

After picking up a couple demo bikes for John and Ernie at the Specialized booth we shuttled our three Epic 29ers (John got to ride the $10,000 carbon-fiber S-Works!) and one Stumpy FSR out to Dry Creek Road to hunt down a few trails, including a couple (Aerie and Rupp) that were brand-new to all of us.

Temps were cool all day under overcast skies, with a stiff breeze out of the southwest, and the trails were bone dry and often sandy, typical of the area this time of the year.  We rode a fun loop, a smidge over 11 miles (a middling-distance in Sedona-miles), full of fast singletrack, spring flowers, and wide vistas, from Lost Watch to Deadman's Pass, to Aerie, to Cockscomb, to Rupp, to Two Fences, and back to the van.

Nerd that I am, I brought along both my Garmin GPS and my handlebar-mounted 808 camera.  So, I've got both a map and a 3-minute video of our 3-hour ride to offer for your viewing pleasure.

Music: Red Dust by Calexico and Iron & Wine

View the flash version of the map here.

Life Cycles

Got out for a ride today. Which normally wouldn't be all that remarkable.  Except that it's February.  And I rode on some of my local trails here in Flagstaff, the ones at the base of Mount Elden.  And they were dry.  Dusty even, in spots.

Didn't ride long.  Just a short jaunt into the woods to recon the local sitch.  For whatever it's worth to ya: on the southern aspects just north of town, down low, there's a little mud here and there.  Some packed down snow and ice, too.  But in between, it's mostly summer-dry buff colored earth.  No kidding.

Strange enough to cause some concern.  For sure.

Anyway, I got home from my short ride and unpacked my bag, only to discover that I'd taken the DVD copy of Life Cycles, which I borrowed from Absolute Bikes last weekend, with me on my ride.  I've been meaning to take it back.  But all week, I forgot to ride by the shop on my way home.  So the DVD's been just hanging around in my pack, useless to anyone, for a while now.  Sorry about that.

I bring this up for two reasons.  One: it is not my habit to ride with DVDs.  They're pretty much worthless on bike rides.  And two: because, if one were to ride with a DVD, there's probably no better DVD in the world to ride a bike with than Life Cycles.

There are an abundance of mountain bike movies on the market.  Just like ski movies, they appeal to many of us, especially towards the end of the off-season, as we're getting geared-up and excited about our upcoming opportunities to partake.  And, in general, most of these movies, regardless of their subject matter, are pretty much the same.  Fun to watch.  But formulaic.  Predictable.   Shot for shot, bit by bit, they all cover the same ground in more-or-less the same way, time-after-time, year after year.

All except for Life Cycles.  Without getting too effusive in my praise, I'll just say this about the movie and then let the trailer below speak for itself: Life Cycles is, without a doubt, hands-down, the most original, captivating, cinematically sophisticated, downright-awesome bike-movie I've ever seen.  It's gorgeous.  And fun.

I wanted it to be longer.

There's almost no reason to own DVDs anymore.  These days, between Netflix, Vudu, MegaVideo, and Surf The Channel, they're all waiting for you online.  Somewhere.  But Life Cycles is different. In my estimation, for so many reasons, it's a DVD that's well worth owning.  I'm ordering a copy.  Blu-ray, even.

Just as soon as I get down to the shop to take back the one I've borrowed.  Meantime, I just might watch it again.  Tonight.

Just about a bike: Specialized Epic 29er [UPDATED]

2011 Specialized Epic Comp 29er

I took my new bike to Sedona early today, well before the mud and ice were able to thaw, for its inaugural ride.  I assembled it down at the shop over the course of a couple afternoons after work this week.

I had originally considered going down to ride on the weekend with a group from Absolute Bikes.  But then, later in the week, I sorta settled on the idea that I might take my daughter skiing instead.  In the end however, once Saturday morning finally rolled around, posting a max-temp of 19 degrees on the mountain at 8:30 AM, I opted instead to go down to Sedona and ride alone in order to work out any kinks or quirks of the sort that tend to reveal themselves on first-rides on new bikes.  Every new bike needs a good shake-down ride, just to make sure everything's snug.  That's what I say.

Plus, I really didn't want to slow anyone down.

Ya see, this new bike is very new.  Especially to me.  Not just out-of-the-box new, although it is that, and in my world that's pretty novel.  But this bike is actually new to me in the sense  that it's a totally-radical, turn-the-world-on-its-head, like-nothing-ever-before sort of new thing, too.

Ibis Mtn. Trials

I've got a lot of bikes.  That's no secret.  But they're all of  a vintage and quality that befits bikes of their age and utility.  In a nutshell, they're all old bikes.  Old, rigid, hardtail (I hate that word by the way; it's stupid) steel bikes that creak. And break.  A lot.  And, frankly, I've been growing tired of trying to keep them running. However, until recently, that's pretty much the only choice I've had: keep 'em going or stop riding. And I really didn't consider the latter choice to be anything but hypothetical.

Retrotec

So, basically I've got a garage full of crappy old bikes that only a bike-dork like me could love.  And, to the degree that they're material things that really don't matter much in the long run, I do love them.  They're all great bikes that I've spent a lot of time riding.  I dig brass fillets and TIG welds, Prestige tubing, top-mounted friction shifters, rigid forks, SS-5 levers, canti-brakes, and old Onza pedals.

Rock Lobster

And, honestly, when they're running, pretty much all my bikes have always been able to take me where I want to go.  And, except in the most extreme cases, they get me there at more-or-less the same rate as my friends.  More-or-less.  Over the years, I must admit, I've become ever more familiar with the status of Off The Back Jack.  Not because I like it back there, eating dust, but because, in truth, that's where you end up when you're on an old rigid hardtail bike and your pals are all riding fancy new lightweight bikes with shocks front and rear.  It's only a matter of seconds, occasionally minutes, between our times, but on a lot of trails that can still make you feel like you're pretty much riding alone, as all your companions disappear ahead of you around the furthest bend in the trail.

So I finally sold-out and bought a new bike.  A real, live 21st-century bike, a 2011 Specialized Epic Comp 29er.  A pretty nice bike, if I do say so myself.  Easily the most expensive bike I've ever owned.  And also the most technologically intimidating.

Lots to learn.  Lots to figure out.  A ton of stuff I've never really dinked around with much, much less ridden any further than around the block downtown: disc brakes, shocks, pressure settings, rebound and compression adjusters, clicking shifters... plus a whole new kind of handling: new approaches to going up, and especially to going down.

And so today I rode alone, sans friends, sans iPod, sans GPS, sans camera.  Because, I didn't want to have any distractions, and as I mentioned above: I didn't want to slow anyone down.

Brain

And I think that was a good idea.  'Cause I stopped.  Several times.

• To click my rear shock rebound knob a setting or two
• To set the Brain knob a few more stops clockwise, toward firm
• To pump a few more pounds of air into the negative spring in my fork
• And once, unexpectedly, at the top of a hill, to pick myself up off the trail where I'd tumbled over the front of the bike when my fork compressed into a rock.  Dur.

But, all in all, despite the many stops and the tumble, it was a fabulous ride!  As in really, really super awesome!  I've gotta say: I think like this bike.  A lot.  Sold!

With that in mind, yet still thinking and writing from the perspective of a confirmed, card-carrying Luddite, I'd like to offer a few conclusions, which I drew during my shake-down ride today... a few rather surprising conclusions, I think:

• Disc brakes work great, even when they're super-new and still a bit grabby
• Suspension lets you go fast-as-ever (maybe faster) over gnarly stuff and yet your neck and shoulders don't ache at the end of the ride
• Clicky-shifters find their gears well; you've only got to remember which of four buttons to push and then push the right one.
• Bunny-hopping on a bike with full-suspension is hard, or at least very different... and maybe nearly completely unnecessary, as the suspension lets you kinda plow a line straight through the stuff you'd normally try and hop over
• When you float off a ledge you also float into your landing.  The sensation is like jumping onto a waterbed.
• Bigger wheels do let you drop taller steps, but you've got to prepare for the fork compression a the bottom of the step, and fork compression seems to change the way a bike handles in these situations.

So, there it is.  One new bike: thoroughly shaken-down.  One grumpy old-bike rider: happily sold-out!

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Update -- 30 July 2016

My Epic 29er has flown the coop and is no longer in my possession.  I traded it for painting by my favorite artist and super-good pal, Lyle Motley.

It's called A Serious Man and we're absolutely stoked on it.  Pretty sure I got the better end of the deal.

In defense of all of us nerds [updated]

I've been corresponding with the editor of our local newspaper a bit lately.  Which, you know, is kind of exciting.

Some time ago, on Twitter, he/they/whoever tweets as @azds, said they were, "Seeking testimonials from Daily Sun Twitter followers..." To which I responded, "I'd be happy to contribute, if you're still in need."  I was honestly more-than-happy to oblige.  I like Twitter precisely because of the things I'm able to glean from organizations like the Daily Sun, along with NPR, the Arizona Snowbowl, Huffington Post, and about 15 other Twitter-users who I follow but who don't follow me back.  I guess that's okay.  I mean, it kinda hurts my feelings when other Twitterers don't follow me back.  But I guess I understand, too... It's all part of the Great Unseen Internet Hierarchy which relegates bloggers and others like me to some too-crowded rung near the bottom of the ladder.

Update: Here's the ad.

Anyway, as I expected it would, it took awhile, but the editor finally emailed me back last week to ask for the testimonial and a short bio.  And also to schedule a photo shoot with one of his photojournalists.  I met him down at Absolute Bikes last Thursday after work.  He was a nice guy.  Seemed a bit puzzled about the assignment, but he thought it would be cool, given the weather and all my waterproof garb, to get a few pictures of me standing with my bike on my shoulder in front of Lyle's awesome mural on the shop's west-most wall.

I didn't expect to see the pictures anytime soon; I was under the impression they were going to run along with my testimonial and bio as part of the First. Best. series the paper's been doing lately.  But somehow my friend (and shop manager) Tony found one of them on the Sun's website.  It didn't actually run anywhere in-print.  Nor does it appear to have been linked-to from any section of the paper online.  But there it is: me, looking like a dork, riding my bike home from work on a wet, slightly-snowy afternoon.

When he posted the picture of me on the shop's Facebook yesterday, Tony called me a nerd for riding my bike in the snow... though, in fairness it's a label he applied to all of us who work together at the bike shop.  It's not a label I dispute.

But, in defense of all of us nerds who ride bikes in the snow, I wanted to show this video of a whole city full of nerds-on-bikes-in-snow.  In the short time that this 67-second Flickr video takes to show the traffic passing through an intersection in Leiden (It's in the Netherlands), I count at least 30 bicycles that ride past... each quite capably, I might add... in the snow, too.  Just like it's no big deal.

You should try it sometime.  It's fun!

Riding with Ben

Ben and I go way back.

But until today, it had been ages since we'd shared a shred.

Like me, Ben's a school teacher in real life.  But he lives and works overseas, along with his family, so we see very little of them these days, except now-and-then on Google Chat.  However, they're all in Flagstaff for a couple weeks at the moment, house-sitting for some mutual friends.

Ben and I used to work together at Absolute Bikes.  Back in The Day.  So we've been on lots of rides together over the years.  Ben's always been a really great bike rider: fast, agile, stoked to ride.  Almost everyone who knows him knows that.

Fewer folk know that Ben's also a truly gifted photographer.  Always has been, long as I've know him. A dozen years ago or so he took a few pictures of my wife and I when we were all in Vegas for Interbike.  A couple of them have become a part of the permanent collection on display in our living room.




Over the years he's also taken a few pictures of me riding.

But today, on our first ride together in at least a year, around Dry Lake Hills, with his little pocket point-and-shoot camera, he really has outdone himself. If ya ask me: I think these pictures are awesome... and  not just because I'm in them.

My new favorite-picture of me riding.	The tree that almost killed me	Still riding those Onza pedals...
Dry Lake Hills		Dry Lake Hills