Saturday, May 25, 2013
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
MAMAMAMAMAMA...Y
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| Mark the purveyor of punishment! |
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| Jay |
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| Why I like early morning rides. |
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| Early morning ride with Pete (He made me take his picture). |
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| What happens when you miss a turn. |
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| The garage of a biker. |
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| Singular's U.S. distribution center. |
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| Prairie Peddler's meditation center: notice the creative use of wine rack. |
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The stench of Summer
Monday, June 6, 2011
“Excuse me sir, but what does Campagnolo mean?”
A young lad asked a friend of mine this very question on a spring ride when he read the back of a jeresy on the rider in front of him. It means it just works...period. And, in most cases, you can rebuild it to work like new when it breaks down.
After hearing this story, I was reminded of other bike related stuff that just seemed to work, besides the wool jersey (which never seem to go out of style). The one piece of equipment that every rider should own is the Silca pump. I have had my Super Pista since 1993 and it has preformed almost as well as my record groupo over the years.
A few years ago I was at a race when a friend asked if he could use my pump. Then he proceeded to struggle with the pump head and the worn washer, I had the intentions of replacing the washer the night before. A few weeks later at another race, he asked if I had a pump again. When I retrieved it from the trunk he refused to use it, then he asked the persons in the car parked next to us if he could use theirs. I ask him how many pumps he has had, and his reply was four over the last 5 or 6 years. My brother once told me that he refuses to by Red Wing boots for work. When I asked him why? his reply was "I like to buy a new pair of boots every year and if I had a pair of Red Wings, they would not wear out." This must also apply to some people when it comes to pumps.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
What A Mess
...But, I think we need a reminder of the best mullet in cycling...EVER! And, the kit is not bad either.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
And it all started with a gift.
For me it all started with the color purple, the year was 1969. That was the year an obsession would start and it would stay with me for the better part of my life. In 1969 I received my first bicycle for Christmas. I was in love immediately with all it’s purple splendor, the purple metal flaked banana seat with gold piping trim, the sissy bar, the cream colored strips around the top tube, the chrome wheels with the rear wheel wrapped in a black slick and the ape hanger handle bars finished with purple flake grips. This would become the vehicle for hours and hours of escape and freedom.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
...And, cast on to them was a boy who they named pickles....
One of the great things in life is to work in a bike shop. The unmistakable smell of the bikes and grease makes all bike shops smell the same. This, along with working with people who share in the great passion for bikes makes an entertaining environment. Then there is defiantly a hierarchy of the bike shop that kids of this generation do not seem to understand, comprehend or.... enjoy. One of the other great things to come out of this environment would be the random nick names given in affection to various workers.
Working in a bike shop, you are living in a fishbowl. Some customers can be demanding and want you to give them everything for below cost. And, others want their repairs completed immediately on their huffy because they are going to ride later that day. They say, “oh, I have some errands to do and I will be back in an hour”, two weeks later the bike is still hanging from the hook in the back. Or, they will wait and watch and question you as try to fix their bikes and can’t understand why they need $50 in more repairs because some kid at Walmart has set their beloved huffy up wrong.... but these customers tend to be the exception as most are fantastic.
As a mechanic working in a bike shop, you get to see kids who want to work in a bike shop come and go. These kids are put to the test almost immediately when they start to work, this can be a hard concept for some of today’s youth. Long gone are the days where we were taught that one must apprentice and learn as much as you can before you are handed a $5,000 bike let alone a $200 bike.
Bike shops today seem to attract their share of young kids who believe that they would like to work with bikes. Of these kids there are only a few that will make it until they leave for college. The people and the demand for work will soon weed out the kids who do not have attention for detail. But, it is the one kid who know their place in the hierarchy order of pecking that will earn the respect of the mechanics and ultimately the coveted nickname... one that they will use when they are around. As time passes soon the young will graduate high school and move on to college and this will be interrupted by the bell on the front door ringing as it is opened by another kid being cast into employment in a bike shop and a voice from the back will yell “Lets call him Pickles!”
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Why Italy is cool.
Number 1 is:
And in particular the 159 Sportwagon:
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sitting in a circle chipping canties while drinking coffee.
Back in college, one of my professors had a theory on why they find so many flint shards along the Illinois River. His theory was as follows; women were the gathers and provided much on the food and other necessities for daily living and men were the hunters and spent more time sitting around in circles talking and making arrowheads out of flint. The professor went on to say that this trait in men and the need to hang out has been carried on through the years and can still be seen today in our society. Tim Allen’s television show “Home Improvement” was a great example of his theory.
As I think back to when I was young, my father followed in this theory. My father would take us to the bowling alley during the cold winter days in Minnesota. There he would meet his friends, one of whom managed the shop during the winter on weekends, and they would all stand around the counter talking and drinking beer from longneck returnable bottles. My brother and I would feast on Slim Jims that were washed down with orange Crush pop. The winter afternoon would be whittled away bowling, playing pinball and listening to the exchange of conversation between my father and his friends. That is until my brother and I grew tired bowling and my father grew tired of giving us quarters for the pinball machines.
As the summer months pass and cyclocross season approaches, it will bring a group of us to gather for coffee and bagels before a morning spent riding cross bikes in the woods and around town. On an occasional Saturday, when the family’s schedule permits, an afternoon can be chipped away sitting in a circle at Wheelfast bike shop eating lunch while sitting and talking.
