Bike Peddler » Not Bikes

Jonesin’

Joshua — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 03:49:09 +0000

Let me just start by saying, I don’t want to hear anybody tell me how they never stopped riding, and I should just get up off my ass and go ride. I’ll decide, not you.
Anyway, I’m getting pretty antsy about wanting to ride some dirt. There are a few contributing factors.
First, I got my new bike. It’s a sexy little carbon fiber number in the cutest shade of periwinkle ever(don’t ask).They say, that Black is the fastest color, but white is faster. Not sure where periwinkle fits in there.

The Santa Cruz Blur LTc. The “c” is for crack-a-lackin’. Moving a little more towards the All-Mountain side of the Trail/All-Mountain micro-niche of the industry. Though nowhere near the Downhill arena, and not quite into the All-Mountain/Big-Mountain arena. I may need to move more towards the Cross-country/Trail end of the spectrum come 24 hrs of Moab time. I wish somebody would invent a bike specifically geared towards the Beefy-for-a-fat-guy/ Lightweight-climber segment of the market. What was I talking about? Oh my bike. Yeah pretty stoked. It’s kind of a mid-range parts build. But I know a guy with an ultra trick build on that bike and it only shaves about a pound. Plus,….I’m poor. So mid-range it is.

Having this new bike creates an odd little dilemma. It’s bright, shiny, and new. And the weather outside still sucks. It has been said that I have a little black rain cloud following me around. I hesitate to drag said shiny bike out through the mud and muck. Daryl Devey told me today that all the lower stuff at Lambert has cleared off but is a little soggy. So, do I really want to muddy up a bike with 140mm of travel on the lower section of Lambert. Don’t think so.

Oh I did have an invitation to join Fuzzy in St George this weekend. I considered it. Checked the calendar and told him I wouldn’t be able to make it since I was on-call this week. He left yesterday, which is about the time I realized that although I had cancelled several plans and stayed close to home, that I was off by a week and am actually on-call next week. Meaning I could have easily joined the Great Southern Roadtrip and had a chance to break in the bike on some honest-to-goodness dry dirt. Also, it means that not only did I blow this week, but next week is already pre-blown for me.

Even if I can’t ride dirt, maybe this would be a good time to get some road miles in. I even arranged a demo bike from the shop for the annual Sometime-In-February-Something-To-Do-With-Brett-Rawlings-Birthday-Ride-To-Vernon with Stan and the Velo Club. Went in to pick it up today and found that the ride had been cancelled. Fans of “I’m too fat to ride a road bike stories” should feel bad, this ride is usually good for a few laughs.

And so I sit. Swelling like a tick hidden in the folds of a fat guys inner thigh, waiting to pop. A new bike in the corral, and no immediate plans to do anything about it. It feels like dating a morally upstanding girl in high school. Sure they’re fun to look at. And you can always close your eyes, bite your bottom lip, and imagine what it would be like to “take ‘er out for a spin”. But when your eyes roll back down out of your head and you come to, you realize that it was all just a fantasy. So the best you can do is tell your friends you got further than you did and wait for prom night.

Observations On The Hipster

Joshua — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 04:24:31 +0000

My wife’s little brother and his wife are in a band. They’ve spent the last few years travelling around the country playing shows, and have developed an impressive following. After winning big on the TV game show “Wipeout”(not kidding), they have decided to leave the band and enter the exciting world of Property Management. To thank their fans, they are playing three final shows in Utah. The first was last night at Velour in Provo. We haven’t seen them play for a couple of years, and figured we’d take the boys to see their aunt and uncle’s swan song.

In the interest of full disclosure. I recognize how hard they work, and thousands of people really enjoy what they do. But the music they play isn’t exactly my cup of tea. It’s kind of a mix of late eighties rap stylings with electronic/pop, voice effects, and keytars. It really has to be seen to be understood. That being said, they put on a wild show. And the sweaty throngs of kids know every song by heart. In an appropriate pairing, one of the opening acts was The Vibrant Sound, soul/hip-hop cover songs, they started out with a funk-style version of the theme song from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Picture ”Lets get it on” played with a mellow jazz trumpet, additional rapped lyrics, and a beat poet rythym. Imagine the verses(not the chorus) of Henry Rollins “Liar”.

Easily the second and third oldest people in the room(my sister-in-law’s grandmother was there), we resigned ourselves to the back of the venue in the intimate VIP booth, while my boys headed up to the stage to get the full effect. This gave me a chance for some people watching.

As you can imagine, they draw an interesting crowd . A lot of teenie-boppers, on up to college-age hipsters. What’s a hipster you ask? Remember a few years ago, when the emo-kids were everywhere? Most of them have evolved into hipsters. A hipster is the anti-emo. Where the emo-kid was all about sad-boys wearing makeup and cutting themselves, the hipsters have taken their Xanax and cheered up a bit. Though still maintaining a need to dress like a retard, they have replaced the many shades of black, with obnoxious shades of neon.

Anything circa 1989 is hip(ster) again, and there is an odd affinity for glasses at play. The skinny jeans of the emo-kid are still there though, usually topping off some vintage Nike basketball shoes or Chuck Taylors if your phoning it in. Perhaps born of a limited amount of cowboy play as a child the hipster can frequently be seen wearing a ridiculous bandana.

The idea is to look like you hit the thrift store and just threw together the coordinated neon ensemble you’ve come up with. The good news is, most hipsters are non-aggressive. Preferring instead, to act as though they are having the time of their life at all times. Whether they are or not.

Though there is the occasional surly hipster……..

Most of these unfortunate youths were in diapers when the horrible hip-hop of the late eighties that inspires their look was en vogue. And when they “discover” it, they feel compelled to herald it as some sort of high point in musical history. Instead of the plastic, uninteresting, tripe that it was.

I hope this helps you, the uninitiated, to understand a little more about the hipster. You may misunderstand me and think I am simply a hipster-hater. I do hold some ill-will toward the modern hipster. I believe this is due in large part to the fact, that because of the correlation of the hipster to the fixed gear bicycle, I now feel self-conscious when I bust out the Langster(I figure some of you might have been wondering what all this has to do with bikes). So now I don’t ride it around town anymore. Instead I drive. And eat. So basically, hipsters are why I’m fat. There I said it. Maybe if I’d just cheer up a little, I could join in all the fun.

Not gonna happen. I grew up in the nineties, the time of grunge. We knew how to make a fashion statement.

Trike-urious

Joshua — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 04:42:00 +0000

If you haven't seen this video,......watch it first.

Okay, now that your interested. You can be jealous of me.
I got an email from Ryan Thompson the other day telling me they were doing one of their Big Wheel Shuttles on Squaw Peak. He offered to let me borrow his rig for a couple of runs. I have heard about these for quite awhile and I had commented on Ryan's Blog that I was really interested in them.
The Big Wheel/Trike/Mario-Kart is actually a Trek Mod. A production big-wheel that's souped up with a pneumatic front wheel, and sealed cartridge bearings in the back. That's where you start. Then most of these guys add high rise BMX handlebars, and since Trek no longer makes the spoked wheel with the freewheel hub, you either have to scavenge a 16" front hub and mount foot pegs, or do a really complicated conversion that involves some machining and patience. Neither of which are on my list of skills/qualities. Since the six inch cranks become completely worthless once you break five miles per hour, I'm thinking pegs are the way to go.
But on to the ride.
I was told to bring a light, it didn't occur to me that this was actually going to end up being a night ride until I was driving there and it was getting dark. This isn't just for fun, it's actually strategic because it makes it easier to see cars coming when their headlights come around the corner up ahead. After dark, the only people driving up Squaw Peak Road are Zoobie's going up there to give each other something to tell the Bishop about. So they're minds aren't exactly on the road.
As Ryan was running a little late, I met up with Randy from Mad Dog Cycles. He had a 15 passenger van pulling a trailer to run people up the road. Since somebody had to drive the shuttle he offered to let me ride his while we waited for Ryan. So off we went.
From the top, the only advice was to lean into the corners. Once I picked up my feet, I was instantly doing like 30 miles an hour. This is not an exaggeration. You accelerate so fast it's scary. The first thousand feet or so heading into a ninety degree turn, were frankly terrifying. And I immediately spun out into the bushes on the first turn. After that I fell back trying to get a feel for it. The best way to corner is to pull a Tokyo Drift, sliding your hind-parts out while leaning hard to the inside. When they brake traction you have to immediately turn into the skid to avoid spinning out. Just like Doc Hudson in Cars. The first run was a little slow, but I made it. The regulars were looking at me like I was an idiot for wearing shorts and a t-shirt. In hindsight, they were right. I know I broke 45 mph with nothing between me and the asphalt but some Old Navy Khaki and a DKM tour t-shirt. At least I was wearing a helmet.
The second run was better. I began to get a feel for the turns, but still nowhere near keeping up with Ryan and the boys.
On my third and final run, I got cocky and actually spun out several times. Oh well. Somebody has to suck to make the other people look good.
The best part of all is the looks you get from oncoming traffic. A mix of surprise, interest, and anger.(Apparantly there was a bit of a run-in with a mini-van refusing to let them pass at the front of the pack).
Now, when Ryan sent that email, I thought I was getting special, preferential treatment, for being pretty much world famous with this blog. After all, I get like 0-10 hits a week. But it turns out, Ryan is trying to raise some money for the LiveStrong Foundation by letting people take a spin on his Big Wheel for a donation on his LiveStrong page. Make an appropriate donation and you too can tempt death on two plastic wheels, three inches off the ground.
I highly recommend it.

No Bikes Allowed

Joshua — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 02:47:00 +0000

In order to find a reason to talk about what I did this weekend on this blog, I had to find a link to mountain biking.

Here it is.Join your local advocacy group today.

That being said, my sons Owen(9) and Gavin(6),my dog Cockleburr(age unknown), and I set out on our annual backpacking trip. Heretofore and affectionately referred to as "Man Camp". We started going a couple of years ago, and this was by far the most successful trip.It's a short hike. Only a mile from the Crystal Lake Trailhead. And as a consequence it can be quite crowded. I have considered going further in to avoid the crowds but even though this is Gavin's third year, this was the result of the hike in.They both perked up a little later. The dog isn't too crazy about having to pack in his own weight either. Plus he hasn't quite fully recuperated from his near-death experience a few weeks ago.

We found a little more secluded site this year. It involved a steep scramble up from the lake shore, and you could still hear the loudmouthed scouts down on the lake shore all night Friday, but Saturday night things quieted down considerably.

I am by no means an avid backpacker. And I hate dehydrated food. So we tempt the laws of food storage and pack in things that might make it all weekend without refrigeration.

These are our new favorite "Campfire Chicken Quesadillas".Saturday, we hiked over to what I had always thought was Clyde Lake. Turns out it's Cliff Lake. When we figured this out, and tried to find Clyde Lake, we ended up at the bottom of the Crystal Lake trail. Which was......where we had parked the truck.

So, we scooted back up the Notch Mountain Trail to Wall Lake for lunch. Then I suggested another adventure. I packed up what was going to be dinner that night, and all the fishing stuff(fishing sucks at Wall Lake due to high traffic and a giant rock that people are constantly jumping off of into the water). We would go looking for Clyde Lake as the crow flies instead of following any trail. We had some good information, and would follow the many trickling drainages that feed into Wall from Clyde. This turned out to be much more direct, but a rough, steep hike. At this point, it became obvious that we had better catch some fish or I was in trouble. Luckily, the sun shines on a dogs butt every once in awhile, and while I was cooking Mac and Cheese on the shores of Clyde Lake, they started biting.Since I am obviously no fisherman, this was a pure dumb luck coincidence. I haven't caught a fish in years unless you count the times my father-in-law has tied all the knots, told me where to drop the hook, and wiped my nose for me at Flaming Gorge. In all we caught six fish. Three of them came off and flopped back into the water as the kids and I scrambled around like a bunch idiots. Those three we kept made it to the campfire, and our bellies. I hadn't had fresh-caught trout since I was a kid. It was awesome.

The fact that we caught fish, no one puked in their sleeping bag(Man Camp 08) and it didn't rain constantly(Man Camp 07-08). It was a fantastic trip. Just like most of the mountains around here. The long wet spring left the hills lush and covered in wildflowers.

This little purple thing was everywhere once you got above the 10K ft mark.

After the trip to Clyde, the clouds rolled in. Luckily they didn't have much rain but it did hail for about ten minutes. Owen isn't triplets, but he wouldn't hold still for the auto-stitch series of photos.

All in all, a good excuse to not have a group ride this weekend. By the way, we won't be having one the first weekend in August next year either.