Fuckin' Hell

If you imagine what's beneath the black bar you see to your left, you'll know exactly what I feel like. The horizontal bar, not the vertical one.

So I made it to Conte's in good time and bought two brand new tubes to try and get Jamie back on the road. I had resolved to be extra careful, having decided that I was pinching the tubes between the tire and the rim and that was the cause of my problems.

I plopped myself on the couch and watched some Courage while I did my handy work.

I checked the inside and the outside of both tires extensively for shrapnel. Nothing. I checked the rims. Nothing. I chalked this up as further proof that I was a tube-pincher. I carefully re-installed the new tubes, taking my time and extra care. Everything seemed shiny.

Both tires had been fixed up and pumped up with a minimum of air. I put the wheels back on and proceeded to pump up the front tire to 110psi; which is right near the middle of the minimum/maximum recommended pressure. As the red needle on my floor pump twitched above 100, I heard a pop and all the air rushed out. My head fell towards my chest and I felt like crying and/or swearing.

I took it all apart again to inspect the crime scene, and like a brick falling falling from Macaulay Culkin's little hands it hit me: The tubes were poking through the flimsy-ass rubber strip covering the spoke holes and puncturing themselves when they got above 100psi. Which is below the recommended tire pressure.

And it only took four trial-and-errors (emphasis on the error part) to figure it out. I, am an ass.

Now I just need some proper rim tape and a couple patch kits and I'll be right as rain.

In other news, I am a cheap date. After biking my tush off against the wind, up hill and over dale, two beers of unknown kind and brand is all it takes to get me on the fence separating Tipsy and Drunk. I met Kurtz and his co-workers at Hell's Kitchen and he treated Y.T. to the brew and some interesting conversations about cyclists and weapons, cheap shirts, and cops on bikes, among other things.

At one point through my second beer I kinda sorta started to snoop in one of the lady's purses as she hunted for her wallet. All I wanted to see was what the pharmacy bottle sticking out the side had in it. As someone who doesn't even take headache medicine I'm curious about that kind of thing. I regained control after Kurtz called me out on it and apologized multiple times. The gal in question didn't seem to mind.

Then it was off home, and I was extra careful to check for large moving objects since I'd reached that stage of inebriation where everything is in 3-D Plus.

I made it to the ferry and apparently the exercise rushed more alcohol to my brain as my intoxication peaked and I sat on a bench, marveling at the beauty of the passing clouds that had seemed to sneak up on me.

You know you've found a good place to live when, even a year later, you find yourself looking around and asking yourself how you could live anywhere else after this. How could I give up the ferry, the busy river, the humongous ships that go by my window?

I'd like to move deeper into Olde Towne or perhaps Ghent, but they're pretty close to where I am now and both have their benefits. Like probably being easier on my money clip.

Whelp, I better get down to brass tacks. This week is moving quickly, it's Hump Day already! And ever since grade school, I've known what that means...

Get on it, see ya later.

- David

Let's Try This Again

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Last time I attempted biking to Ghent from here I got lost like crazy due to Google Maps telling me a road went through a factory/swamp/badlands when really it didn't. Google tried to lie to me again today (why you gotta lie baby? After all we been through?) but I was ready for it.

Above is the new route to Ghent, just in case something bad happens to me and no one knows where I is.

I need some tubes, so I'm stopping at Conte's to get some because they stay open late enough for me to make it. I'm doing something wrong, obviously, because I've had three flats on Jamie. Three. In the span of a weekend. One while she was flipped upside down getting the other tire changed!

I'll be quick baby, I know we gots to get you in bed.

- David

My girl is like a macchiato: Bitter at first but really quite sweet.

Cell Phone Explosion

Just cleaning out my cellular phone.

Keep it together.

- David

Who's got the crack?

Tales From the LBS

Welcome to yet another installment of how my Local Bike Shoppe is awesome.

On the way to work I noticed Jamie making a distinctive creaking sound that wasn't there before, preceeded by a definite un-smoothness when going from pedaling to braking.

Upon further inspection I noticed that the chainring could be wiggled with my fingers; the axle (or whatever that bolt is that goes through the bottom bracket. I'm no bike mechanic, obviously) was definitely loose in there.

"Shit", I thought. "I bet that means it's ruined. My massively massive legs have gutted the French bottom bracket Gordon found for me." I played around with it a bit more until I was semi-confident it wasn't going to fall out on me and continued into work.

I then made Kasey rush me to P-Towne where I found James just closing up for the night. Being the awesome human being he is, he turned the lights back on and got down to business. I do this to him more times lately than I'd like to say. Compensation is coming my friend, yes it is.

Not only did he properly... mess... with... the cone thingies in the bottom bracket, he even had to manually create a tool to do so. We couldn't find the correct sized wrench, so he took one that was just a mite too small and ran the grinder on it until it fit, as seen above. How's that for service?

Heading home, I had virtually no creaking and no axle-moving-ness. I put some torque on it once and did feel a weird slip once I got to my apartment. I got down on the floor and attempted to lift myself up using the pedal and saw that the crank arm was moving independent of the chainring. That explained the left-over creaking and the movement I still felt.

I busted out my Alan wrenches and tightened all the bolts (apparently someone had snugged them, but not tightened them down) and now Jamie is back to her silent goodness. I rode her into work again today, and everything was perfect.

Let's see Performance Bicycles stay open late and hand-tool a tool to fix your problem. Little local shops fer the win.

- David

First Comic

Look at that, I got comedic timing down already and everything.

Fer Aero. More (hopefully) to come later, but I have so much shit to do before I can really start doing it to the best of my ability. My plan is, this way I have more pressure to actually do it.

And it won't be stick figures. At least not all the time.

- Y.T.

Nine Inch Naps

I love sleeping. Not just because I don't have to do anything or because I'm depressed, but because I have very awesome and cinematic dreams. Always have. It's like having a movie festival in my head and I understand all the films.

Last night I was getting chased by alligator men in the thawing Alaskan tundra, but it was fine because I could jump really high. My brother was with me, although he was around twelve, and so was a girl with dark brown hair who was about sixteen. We traveled over plains of untouched foliage and used abandoned pipes and aqueducts to stay out of the water. The sun was always setting and illuminated everything in soft orange light.

We had to just keep moving North because the alligator men couldn't stand the cold, and eventually we got to my grandfather's cabin where we made our last stand. He had a lot of cool old riffles and had built the cabin by hand, old faded boards contrasting the specks of white snow that had begun to fall. None of us were scared.

Then Kasey had to go work and I woke up to kiss her goodbye.

Back in dreamland, my dad had bought us tickets to a Nine Inch Nails concert in a dive bar in downtown Norfolk. Trent and crew was rocking out to some of their older stuff and my dad was right up against the waist-high stage, bobbing his head in time as he looked up at the musicians and turning to look back at me, smiling. We were the only two people there. I knew all the songs, and Trent was putting a ton of energy into his performance, jumping and yelling all over the stage. Every song they played (I remember they did Closer for sure, which my dad does actually like) had been slightly changed to have a more upbeat, spring time feel. It was awesome.

When I woke up I could still hum the upbeat version of the song, but I can't remember it for the life of me now.

Suddenly I was outside a mall in Pocatello, Idaho at night with Kurtz. We were there checking out some night classes on photography when Jamie, my mixte bike, needed some maintenance. We were trying to re-assemble the fork/headset/stem continuum when a cop came to harass us for loitering. I quickly explained (lied) we were just getting out of class and would be on our way soon. We could tell he hated cyclists. Finally we got everything together and took off across the dark, moist parking lot dotted with puddles glowing from the tall street lamps.

Welcome to the head of Y.T.

- David

What To Do, What To Do

Firstly, a lil' video of Y.T. doing some silly skids Sunday afternoon. Keep an eye out for the wipeout and the leg-over skid I first attempted whilst drunk. And just in case you forgot or don't know, if my legs aren't moving the rear tire is locked up:


Nextly, a map with a jagged, ugly red line showing the circuitous route I took during Global Guts yesterday. You can see a few places on the left there where I got lost:


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And lastly, Tempura Cheesecake, the best fried thing I've ever eaten and the sweetest brick a cyclist could ever wish to be carting around in their belly:


Now just the question remains: Which steed?


I been itching to ride Jamie (which I have recently re-dubbed the mixte) but it's rainy and ugly as balls out there. I don't know if I'm ready (or even should) subject her to grit and rain. She's just so clean and shiny! But what is a bike for, if not for riding? It wouldn't ruin Jamie, right? Nothing would be damaged, I'd just have to clean her up. Sigh. I dunno.

Guess we'll see in the morning.

Sleep good, see you tomorrow.

- David

Full Weekend

I go a lot of vitamin B this weekend: Biking, beer, bad-ass kung fu, burgers, and bruises. I feel thoroughly spent today.

Yesterday I raced my ass off as I took part in Global Gutz. Perhaps it was the eighteen pieces of sushi in my stomach, or the accompanying tempura cheesecake, or maybe the twenty-two mile an hour wind. Whatever the cause, I got my ass kicked.

For around fifty-five minutes I panted, I sweated, I pedaled, and I prayed for someone to come up along side me and offer to give me a tow. I got lost a few times. I blanked out and forgot where I was heading once. I came in second-to-last place. But it was a big assed load of fun.

Then it was alcohol, popcorn, and Pringles as Kurtz, Jay, the Lady, and myself watched The Protector. If you haven't, you need to see it. It's hardcore to the max. Tony Jaa is an amazing martial artist, and the scenes he puts together are very imaginative. Once or twice I noticed Kurtz and I were laughing so hard and long at the pure awesomeness of the action our eyes were watering. Plus, have you seen a baby elephant chucked through a window? I have.

On Saturday Kasey left for North Carolina to meet up with some friends and do some geeking out in Wilmington where a crap-ton of movies have been filmed such as Blue Velvet and Empire Records. She took some nice pics of various buildings I recognize from movies she's introduced me too. Having her gone was weird; I fell asleep on the couch and woke up cranky and confused because I couldn't find her.

While she was off doing her thing I hung out at Daily Grind and actually read a newspaper, probably for the first time in my life. Nothing good came of it, besides a kind of sick entertainment. News is so crap. Jeff and Lyle from my Saturday group joined up with me after a bit and we sat outside in the gorgeous weather with our beverages. It was fantastic. I wanted to sit there all day and partake of pastries, drinks, and sunshine.

Then Kurtz and I rode around and figured the route out, got spoke cards and maps printed, and headed to my bike shoppe so I could put a bit of money down on my recent bike build and he could look for a new cycling cap. By this time we'd be out in the sun cycling for a while, so we decided to get some food. Having the Bier Garden right across the street from the bike shoppe is awesome. After a couple beers and a burger we got a bad case of the Lazies and went back to my place to watch Ong Bak.

Hope y'alls weekend was good too. Monday is here again, but if you think about it just right, it's almost over already.

- David

Best. Commercial. Ever.

I've probably said that before, but you can stick this one into the category of Things That Affect Me So Hard It's Ridiculous:


<3

- David

This Is My Morning

Be envious.

Steel is for Real

Vindication will come. Just you wait.

This morning marked the maiden voyage of (tentatively named) Jacqueline, and I can only liken the experience to being, like, totally crushing on a cute girl you just met, then getting to sleep with her the next day and it was even better than you expected.

I dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt today which is a big departure from the knickers, cycling shoes, and wool layers I normally sport (although I did wear my trusty wool undies and t-shirt underneath; fifty degrees isn't balmy or anything) and the weather was gorgeous. A little bit of wind, and a lot of sun. Tomorrow is supposed to be even nicer.

As I rode, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Gordon & Crew did an amazing job. It's probably the smoothest and most quiet bike I have ever ridden. No creaks, no scrapes, no rattles. Just rubber on the road. And with the longer stem I'm slightly more upright so it feels like I'm sitting pretty on a leisurely jaunt instead of leaning forward aggressively. The seat is a comfy Fizik, and after a small amount of seat/saddle tweaking the night before it fits just right.

After months of clipless pedals, toe clips and straps are a little strange. The first time I went to take off down the street my foot slipped right out the back as I attempted to pull the pedal backwards, and I'm having to re-learn the art of flipping the pedal over as I begin pedaling. But other than that, we go together like beer and fries.

Also, I kept hearing Charlton Heston's voice in my head going, "Thou Hast No Brakes" as I approached corners, intersections, and stop lights. It's the same method I've been using to train myself off my front brake, but this time he means it. I kind of forgot for a moment as I barreled down the largest of my two hills until I picked up some good speed about halfway down and automatically glanced up to check the light. Right as I did, it turned yellow.

I giggled, stood up, and started my back tire skidding. With a weird little grunt my legs unlocked after only a moment and I giggled again while trying a second time. This time it held as I whipped the back of the bike side to side (cuz it's fun and I think it adds more friction) and stopped in plenty of time. At the second hill I was able to slow myself down by just standing up and resisting the pedals.

And even though I wasn't on my track bike in my cycling gear with clipless pedals, I still hit my eighteen mile-per-hour goal. Booyah!

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

- David

Herald! Frankenstein

Yeller and Green, originally uploaded by BodhiDave.

Oooooh yeah suckah. Behold, my first bike build.

True, I only picked things out and St. Gordon & Crew at Cycle Classics did the rest. But, I did hacksaw off part of the seat tube in an effort to get it as low as it'd go. But damn, am I proud.

The frame is late sixties/early seventies, as is the bottom bracket. The handlebars are early seventies. The rest is new stuff. I think I'm going to leave those fantastic handlebars unwrapped.

It rides so. damn. smooth. It's smoother and more silent than Jenny even. And it's comfortable as hell.

It's alive, and it's gorgeous.

- David

Just Real Quick

Here are some of the people, real or fictional, close or far away, that I think are pretty nifty.

FyxAndy

Jenny Lewis

Fastboy

Dethklock

Anton Chigurh

R. Stevens

All the peeps over at A Year of Bike Commuting

White Ninja Comics

The Midwest Teen Sex Show

Sinfest

A random sampling of the environmental variables that make up Y.T.

- David

Global Gutz - 04/20/08 *Edit*

Click the title for more info. I'm still working out the route (and the flier), but it will be done.

As a hero of mine says, "Tell you friends, tell your enemies."

- David

Spreadin' the word, guerrilla style. The other two I put up required duct tape and timing.

Good to Be Home

My pets are in a band, and Tilly is the front-woman. I think they're called Fuzzy Logic or something. I believe they sing ska/hardcore.

Got back in one piece, and in decent time. Despite all of the toll roads and fourty-five mph speed limits along the way. That shit was angering.

Unpacked the suitcase, pet the animals, parked the car, cleaned the bike, did a load of laundry, cooked tofu and rice, ate tofu and rice, started a beer.

It's bed time now.

- David

Fun With Wigs

Booze + Wig = Great Pictures.





- David

P-Towne Ridah

Has bike, will travel.

So far I've been getting up by Nine and riding around for thirty minutes or so here in Hyde Park. It's a hilly mofo; I realize now I've specialized my bike and my body for the flatlands. I feel so weak. I always wonder how my Virgin-I-A cycling skillz will translate to other areas. I've discovered that as long as I'm not climbing mountain grades, they translate pretty good.

Today I climbed a hill (which is damn steep, I'll take video) and an old snail with a walker and a bad hip passed me. But I didn't get off the bike, and that's all that matters to me. As a consolation, I was able to keep up with traffic on the main street once I got to the top, though.

There are a million miles of "bike lane" here. I use quotes because in some spots the cement crumbles away into nothing, and every half a minute or so there's a drainage grate that takes up 95% of the lane. However, today my grandma, my six year old second cousin, my girl, and myself all went driving around, and the bike lane didn't ever end. I can see how it'd be nifty for tour-ists, but I'll take the road any day I can.

I changed out my tube today, using tire levers for the first time and my lil' Crank Brothers hand pump. Everything went well, and now I don't have a fifty-two hour leak in my rear tire. My cousin even hung around and asked a bunch of questions. I imparted all the tube-changing wisdom I know upon her little half-dozen year old brain. Maybe one day it will come in handy.

Kasey has taken a lot of good pictures of the area, once we get home I'll link to them. We even have some kick-ass Polaroids. I love those damn things. She's a real trooper; she stayed up with me on the entire drive after waking up at Four AM on about three hours of sleep, working until Noon, then coming home and immediately hitting the road. I would have had a mental and spiritual breakdown with all those turnpikes and toll roads without her.

I'm off to take a nap. I'm on vacation, I can do those sort of things.

Peace out, be safe, get some.

- David

Hard Wood

There is just something about bikes on hardwood floors.

Made it fine and dandy around Midnight, and already had a ride around.

Breakfast time.

- David

Graphic Evidence

This is how we roll in Ye Olde P-Towne. You ride your bike to take your new bike to the bike shop.

I'm off to New York in a few hours. Talk at you later.

- David

I Do

Not my bike, or my pic. But this is one of my favorite bicycle pictures, out of the innumerable amount I've seen. My amigo Kurtz takes a lot good pictures, click the one you see left to get a face-full of the rest.

This weekend felt full. I got up (late) on Saturday and threw my bag, precariously containing the mixte frame I won, and headed to the bike shop to meet up with the Saturday crew. Never let anyone tell you that you cannot fit something big into something small. There is always a way, and I'd never get any if I ever listened to things like, "It won't fit." and "Stop, I'm only in 9th grade." But I digress.

The ride was good. Thirty-five miles of grey sky and almost perfectly warm cycling weather. The kind where if you stop you're a bit cold, but just right when you pedal. I met a bloke also named Dave, who happens to live one floor above me, also has a pet of the pug persuasion, and moved to Portsmouth, Virginia from Portsmouth, England. Kinda nifty. Real nice guy borrowing a bike from his boss so he can ride in the MS 150. And despite very nearly going under an SUV I think he had a good time.

Afterwards I hung out at the coffee shop for a bit, BSing and enjoying the soy chai latte that was brought outside to me without my having to go in at all. I was shocked. The smiling barista came out and set a cup in front of me saying, "Soy chai, right?." It was awesome. Then my buddy Jeff goes, "Did she just say, 'Morning Sunshine?'". I just nodded my head with with a face that said "Hell yes she did." This story would be even cooler if I didn't have to pay, but I did.

Then it was off to the bike shop. Jeff was kind enough to sell me his once-used 15-tooth cog for $5, and even left his bike at the shop for me so he could scoot home and get it ready for renters. Randy and Gordon had to double-team my old cog to get the bastard off, using some tool I've never seen before and a table vice. Victory was ours, though, and after finding a new chain I was good to go.

One tooth less affords me 1.2 more feet per pedal rotation than before. Also, I have five skid patches instead of two, and at 18 mph I'm doing 70 rpm instead of about 85 (all courtesy of Rabbit). Harder to take off from a stop, but faster overall. It feels solid, I'm happy with it. I think me and 48x15 are going to be very happy together.

Today I was thinking of fixed-gear/wheel patrons and the marriages, however short-lived, we have to our gear ratios. Windy day? Suck it up. Hills? Stand up. Late night/ate too much/no energy? Buck up. You just gotta deal. And in my limited and personal opinion, it's best that way. You can't puss out and spin like your chain has fallen off and you're just pedaling thin air. Although some days, like this morning, it is tempting. It's a character builder, having a fixed ratio. Your legs and lungs sprout like hyper-fertilized weeds and you find willpower you didn't even know you had.

But I don't mean offense to those of you who shift. To each his own. Different tools for different jobs and all that, and I can tell you I'm not winning any tours or eating up mountain paths on Jenny. And despite what some people think, she is civilized and does belong on the road. My Jenny is a beautiful machine.

I'm outta the state on Tuesday, and won't be back until Sunday night. I'll probably post between then and now, but just in case I don't, no need to call the President. I'm alive.

Time to get all my loose ends tied up here at work. Talk at you later.

- David

Bike and a Half

Heavy Contents, originally uploaded by BodhiDave.

Living across the river from Downtown Norfolk is pretty damn sweet. Almost everything is there, but I don't live in it. I live in a quiet historical neighborhood and can go back and forth between the two as much as I want for a dollar a day.

Last night I hit up GNC and the grocery store before I went home. I needed protein mix for work, some tofu for home, and we were almost out of water.

GNC was full of what I assume to be military people who had just arrived. They were all buying gigantic buckets of protein and it took me forever to get out of there. Walking through the mall in full commuting gear is always fun. People look at you like you're from another country or something, and those annoying kiosk peeps usually leave you alone.

As I searched for a place to lock up my bike at The Market, a guy behind me called out that he bet my bike was light. People always think my bike is light, and just like the others, he wanted to pick it up. I always keep one hand on handlebars in case someone decides to make a run for it.

Mr. Man then continued to bet me that the bike was expensive. This is another thing people always do. As I pulled my u-lock out of my bag and started to affix Jenny to a stationary metal trash can, Mr. Man advised this was not something he would do. He said someone would take my seat, and my wheels. My seat is so cheap it doesn't even have a name on it, and it has a gash in the side. My wheels aren't much better.

I asked him where he was from, and he said Norfolk, that he actually worked nearby and pointed to a tall building. He said he'd seen me biking around a lot from the window. I wonder if it's really me he's been seeing or maybe NYC Chris, or any other cyclists with a black bike.

I locked up, got my tofu and water, and walked back out with a much heavier bag. I knew a gallon of water weighed a lot, but I figured on my back it wouldn't feel like so much. It did. Although a lot of crap and weight was back there, my Chrome bag was surprisingly comfortable. I wasn't worried about it sliding to one side and pulling me down under the wheels of a bus, and even though my back muscles definitely knew something was back there, it was not uncomfortable at all. Well done Chrome.

When I got home I decided to weigh the bag just to see how much stuff I had in there. With some logistical help from Kasey (she's the smart one) I weighed myself with and without the bag.

All the crap you see above weighed in at thirty pounds! That's like having my bike plus half my bike again on my back. I can safely say that's the most I've ever had in there at once, and I still had room for more. The Mansion for the win.

- David

How Many Five Year Olds?

How tough is you? Do you know how many five year olds you could take in a fight?

26

Click the pic to find out how many of the lil' ones you could beat up. I am not above eye-gouging and using the precious darlings as shields and/or weapons against the others. This is actually good information if the Zombpocalypse ever hits, although I figure five year old zombies would be a lot tougher. Maybe I could only take like thirteen.

In non-violent news, I've found a nice grocery store that I can quickly and easily bike (or walk!) to. It's called The Market, but it's basically a more up-scale version of Farm Fresh, which is what we've been using forever. So I know what they have, what they don't have, how the store is generally laid out, all that. And despite all the fancy wines and mirrored waterfall logo, the prices are the same.


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Plus, this one has a Starbucks, free wi-fi, free parking garage (if we do drive), and the nice bag boys will help you get your groceries up to your car. Which was a bit weird. I know the mustache makes me look older, but not that old!

Ever wondered why I'm such a chipper chocolate chip cookie in the morning?


For serious though, once you've become an official bike commuter these people show up with music and a disco ball and high-five you as you walk into work. Dogs not included.

Last night the Gal and I watched the 1997 Austrian version of Funny Games, in preparation for (or perhaps in place of) the American version that is supposedly out in theatres but isn't playing anywhere. It was good, and the ending was what I wanted. Not as "Holy Gawd That's So Messed Up!" as I thought it'd be, but I still enjoyed it a lot. I can't wait to see Michael Pitt do it. The Remote Scene is a bit iffy, but nobody is perfect. Except Brick.

Okay, I need to be working. Can you believe it's Thursday already? Jeebus.

- David

Funny Games

Fake blood and house pets, FYI.
If you got a room of Davids together and asked everyone who loved Michael Pitt to raise their hands, you'd have a crowd of empty pockets.

I'm procuring the original 1997 Austrian version as we speak. I can't find any theatres playing this version, but I'm hopeful. Maybe it will come out soon.

Hot damn do I love me some fucked up psychological cinematic violence.

- David

"What did I say," *slap* "no jelly rolls."

Death & Taxes

Here we go, here we go, here go again.

I don't know exactly what's going on with this one, but the only form I could find on the IRS site with "420" was about bartering, so... yeah. No idea.

When I first found the form I thought it said "bartending" so I got all excited to visit dive bars and stuff. Stuff matchbooks and filthy peanuts into my pockets, or drink a shot before going back out to the bike. Maybe I'll have to make that one up.

Wes also made new Critical Mass flyers and stickers which are pretty eye-catching. I need to stick some up, guerrilla style.

Okay, werk time.

- David