what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

87 photo

are you fucking kidding me?

moving to Portland

getting the band back together

all of the above

exaggerated caricature  
worn out bumper sticker
next door neighbor
sharp cheddar cheese ball
go sharp or don’t go at all
that’s what they want you to think
ubiquity lessens its effectiveness
isolated incident-recurring dream 
warped point of view point of reference askew
constantly returning to the valve hole
a repurposed spoke out of place
fishing for a superfluous nipple
rattling around in a deep-section rim
another wheel set destined for a dentist
to ride a half ironman
weather permitting  
please give me a sign
post to lock up to
as if    it’s not me
therefore   it must be you
it’s not a straight line  it’s a circle
cycling utility circuitously  
trying rationalizing every day
insert a new variable     explain it away
you can have the look and feel
I want the real deal

CETMA cargo photo 

It’s the solstice and that’s how I like to look at it up here 48+ degrees north of the equator. When people say it’s the first day of winter that makes it sound like there’s a long slushy slog ahead and that’s not really the case. If you think it’s too cold to ride your bike, pretend you live in Calgary like this CETMA cargo bike owner and then it will feel unseasonably warm where you live. Unless you're Kirk R. Dungan, he knows what cold really is. 

Hey there Mr. Jonny Sundt, deep in the heart of Texas, that shirt must be worn out by now. I think it’s time for a renewal of the pilderwasser lifestyle sponsorship.

But now, you being firmly established in a new position of power, allows for a little quid pro quo, tit for tat, this for that. You know what I’m saying...    this   for  that

It never gets old.

       just so we're clear on this, are we clear on this?

this is a race flyer from 5.75 years ago so there you go

I don't ride a bike because I'm battling obesity

I don't ride a bike because I'm worried about the environment

I don't ride a bike because I'm trying to save money

kinda like Joe Jackson said, when he said over and over "you can't get what you want, 'til you know what you want " 

2011 is the year peter pan pilder pays the piper.

And that,  like Martha said, is a good thing.

I’ve been thinking about it for years, not just four years

more from seattle bike blog

Tin foil hats coming out of the woodwork
Parabolic bowls full of feedback loops
Stale fruitcake secret family recipes
Vitamin D    deficiency
Another cup of coffee
Top heavy
imbalance
Robotic consistency
Laser focus a little fuzzy
Misdirected           energy    
Lost      in the form of heat
Caloric output off the charts
Attach a number and label clearly
Just another easily replaced commodity

 The correlation is clear    causation cannot be determined at this time. 

hey there mister hardcore fair weather commuter under inflated OEM tire biopacer bottomed out rock shox clucker if I called you on your left would you turn it against me peering over your shoulder veering swervingly yes I guess so you see what you hear me saying is nothing as you couldn’t hear it anyway in the white noise of the freeway and the jibber jabber of that 96 rock hopper if I had a hammer I’d hammer in the morning I’d hammer in the evening allover this remover installer one inch threadless 130 mm with 25.4 clamp diameter no questions asked up to my ears in too deep 15mm star fangled nut cracker suite like this too shall pass loose balls stiff links close calls stiff drinks plus or minus one more for the road seamless transition smooth handi ramp snot rocket sidewalk free refill at tully’s

poached photo from Richard Masoner

Sometimes there’s nothing to say. Silence doesn’t bother me and I don’t feel the need to fill space with idle chit chat, talk about the weather or fiddle with an inane smart phone.  I’m more than happy to ponder questions without answers while I study the sipping stratigraphy on a pint glass.

However,    nothing says December in and for pilderwasser better than this picture.

Six years in a row.

and a year or so before that in a zine called kickstand       it was written like this: 

When you don’t know what you’re talking about

A. make something up
B. talk louder
C. crack a joke
D. shut the fuck up

(the correct answer is D)

The progression of time continues constantly consistently although it may or may not be moving linearly people say they’re moving forward and for almost all intents and purposes I agree however I like to keep one lazy eye busy looking retrospectively always aware of what’s behind me and not because I wear one of those cheesy helmet-mounted mirrors but because I have a pretty good memory and the future is sometimes seen through a viewmaster of the past

                               happy birthday Steve 

it's easier to see what it is, when you can see what it isn't

to shed some light on the negative space

not just looking on the bright side

don't get me wrong...                          

Have a Great Weekend! 

It’s thanksgiving which means a lot of things to a lot of people but one thing it means every year is a Detroit Lions game and for the past 20 years that’s meant Jason Hanson, the kicker, kicking on TV, on pace to be the all time greatest kicker in NFL history. If the Lions didn’t suck for so long he’d be the statistical leader in every category that he isn’t already leading. His robotic consistency (600 of 608 PATs) and clean cut image are respectable and admirable and being a place kicker from Spokane I hold a special place for place kickers from Spokane. That and that and that being said, I think Sebastian Janikowski is a bit more interesting to watch, both on and off the field.  He is the NFL kicking leader in DWIs, he’s emotional, he can make a tackle and I’d want him on my team when the shit goes down.  

Happy Thanksgiving

The assassin carried a quiver full of arrows, a strip of jerky, and rode the shadow of a stolen bicycle.  --Paul Fattaruso

If the bicycle squeaks, that means something is trying to kill it, however patiently.   --Paul Fattaruso

Once a day, the sun shines to the bottom of the well, and with a carefully angled mirror, you can glimpse down to the decaying bicycle. Try to look directly and your head will cast an obscuring shadow.   --Paul Fattaruso

Like an angel, the bicycle is born with an innate choreography, which it cannot fail to understand.    --Paul Fattaruso

 ***

All of those words are plucked from the book BiCyCLe by Paul Fattaruso.  If I had time I’d retype the whole thing here for you, but that would take away from the experience of picking up the book. The smell, the feel, the taste, of words printed on real paper.

Somewhere between prose and poetry, the book is all about bikes in a way that says bikes are all about everything. Perfect for cyclists and or those with short attention spans and vivid imaginations. It even has a few illustrations. It’s right up my alley. Seriously. Literally. Sincerely. For real. Really.

somebody is 8 months old today

what's the P for?         2007  

Ask me about sleep deprivation

and its inverse proportional relationship to hand-eye coordination and then we’ll talk about decreasing temperatures and the resulting buildup of condensation that do point to dew point getting deep into the late calendar pages the steadily increasing chances of precipitation and finally    finally    I can see clearly now the window to the soul needs a new set of wiper blades.

Quirky quick release

Skewed skewer askew

Not quite tight      aka loose

Noodling soft pedal Q-factoring

Bottom bracket behind the scenes laboring

Resonating Chris King pawl ring singing

Self-inflicted free wheeling

Reoccurring down hill chilling

like Chris Murray said, registration for RAGBRAI XL is now open.

The 40th anniversary ride is sure to be a special route and have a huger than huge turnout. 

Don't worry about shopping days until Christmas, there are only 248 days until RAGBRAI.  

Richard Sachs is one of the people in my realm of awareness that I can truly say without question “did it his way” and that is one of the reasons I think he’s a badass. He is a role model for craftsmen, artists and small business people everywhere that struggle with a way to make a living making the product they make the way they want to make it, shooting themselves in the foot with their refusal to sell out or compromise or conform to the wishes of outside investors or business advisors. He makes a fine steel bike by hand by himself from start to finish. No outsourcing. No mass production. No bullshit.  

Lane Kagay of CETMA racks and cargo bikes is well on his way as well. He is running a one-man show in Eugene making cargo bikes and racks.  I’ve admired his products and business plan for years. Soon I’ll be sitting on the saddle of a CETMA cargo bike taking my daughter to the park and grocery store and library. But that’s a whole other story that you can share with me someday soon. 

Dave Schneider of Schneider Guitars is another guy to take a closer look at. Being my cousin he’s oh-so-close to the pilderwasser heritage and family tree literally and figuratively being from and working in Cincinnati. I’m not a musician but  I know that Dave is “the man” among men in the guitar restoration world and unusual instrument construction. Solo start to finish. By hand.

Cory Bennion of DANK bags is one more guy that’s on the right track right here in Seattle. He’s often referred to by me as “one of the guys down at DANK bags” but let me remind you he is the only guy. He’s a one-man operation, start to finish, one of kind, one at a time.

There’s a Steel Wool song that says “I’m a simple man, I like to work with my hands” and if I could find it online I’d take you there because I am and I do. 

I like to silkscreen things onto T-shirts and hoodies and thriftstore merino wool sweaters. People sometimes would ask me to make them t-shirts with specific designs and logos on them for alley cats or special events and I used to say OK. But now I say these are the shirts I make and you can take them or leave them. A Hobson’s choice. A pilderwasser choice. Order any foo-foo espresso drink you want and I’ll smile and serve you up a cup of black coffee. It was never about making a living or making a profit it was about making a shirt I would be proud to wear.

word words word

or Wednesday or whatever day it is 

you may find yourself at 1201 2nd Avenue and you may say to yourself this is not my liquor store 

riding home in the dark is the new black

variations on the theme du jour

the real deal really for real until the real rings ready

Hey Case, this is for you. It's no longer on the hard drive here at HQ    so    I'm not going to download it and email it to you because you can download it yourself   in a right-click-save-image-as-  kind of way.

I can't remember the exact date of this shot taken sometime before you put on that marching band uniform                     but to all the untrained eyes out there    take a moment to draw attention to the Dallas Cowboy fan family in the background.

The slope is (in the simplest of terms) the measurement of a line, and is defined as the ratio of the "rise" divided by the "run" between two points on a line, or in other words, the ratio of the altitude change to the horizontal distance between any two points on the line.

Cool Guy Park is on a good line, it's also on a pretty steep slope if you're still paying attention, sometimes it used to be like one big DANK bag commercial.

This retro photo goes out to 50.

 leading out a teammate to contest an intermediate sprint in an effort to gain a few points and a time bonus on the overall lead

when I say "you"   I mean you  

when you say "we"   you mean me

clockwise

divisible by 6

with liberty and justice for all

and she was

a moment to ponder a head tube reamer

reaming and facing facing and reaming

monday morning kicked off with a fresh urinal mint and it was all a blur into how can tuesday morning possibly top that when the jaywalker yelled "lawbreaker" as I rolled slowly through the street that he'd already crossed over into what will wednesday bring?

it's not really a linear progression

but they want you to think it is       because

clocks and calendars and the so-called passage of time

are all good for business

news at eleven 

original photo via an agent of All Hail the Black Market

Karen Hyams photo

That's not Orville, that's not Wilbur, that's Charles of  Wright Bros Cycle Works wearing a vintage pilderwasser T-shirt.  

and that's a Buttercup photo.

  keep on truckin

Take two more of these and
call me angel in the morning
there’s a tension under the surface
a shadow on the shadow board
the missing wrench formation speaks
money talks  and  talk is cheap
walking the walk this way
ask about the running tally
the ratio of atta boys to ah shits
use the handy pocket-size conversion chart
the squeaky wheel lulls the baby to sleep
someday it’ll get some grease

some day a real rain will come, and when it does, a new Showers Pass Elite 2.0 jacket will help you focus on how wet your socks are getting

what day is this?

what year is this?

sometimes   I   still want it all to make sense

Chris Murray photo

Dress me up in horizontal stripes

Smooth me over expansion joints

Take me to the vanishing point

a YES or NO question

a Campy or Shimano question  

clockwise

roundtrip

returning to the valve hole

on the coffee-beer continuum 

VeloNews photo

cyclingnews photo

kickstand, you got loose and I threw up

with this key comes great responsibility

 that's neither here nor there

 but it could be anywhere

gas station parking lots everywhere

 popdresssitting by Diane Olivier    2010

tired
worn out
thread bare but
only on one       shoulder
lower than the other
forever and ever and
single strap bags never the same
holding 4 beers and 14 King Superior filings
two binders to C-203 and an Ex Parte'
radio holsters held real radios
top tube pads protected top tubes
so    like   years ago bro
sweat stains dried  engrained
history   stratigraphy
part of the landscape
the background the setting set  
muscle memory  neural pathways  habit trails
1111 Third Avenue repeating
bad dreams  bad tastes  receding  
phantom nostalgia syndrome sets in again   
keep feeling for the ass-pocket U lock
and the key       hold the button down
wait for the beep

1001 (ten oh one) bikes in situ one afternoon yesteryear, Jeff Kidder's on the left

On September 13, 2010    I turned in my Nextel and made a clean break from the messenger world. After quitting six times or so before, that time, this time it was for real.

51 weeks later I’ve gained some perspective on it. But I think it’s something that will never be completely finished and like 87 says:-  “it’s hard to put a finger on it”

I believe Jeff Kidder gets a pretty good grasp on that bike messenger thing, that justwhatisitaboutbeingabikemessenger thing with his book Urban Flow  The finger Kidder carefully and thoughtfully places on it,  has a whole lot of social science fist behind it. His book is not just a romantic fluffy Travis Hugh Culley put me on Oprah kind of book. Kidder’s book is academic and substantial. I recommend it to bike messengers as well as their parents, friends and significant others. I recommend it to city dwellers and cubicle workers that ride elevators with messengers all day. I’d also recommend it to teachers looking to liven up their worn out classroom discussions of outdated vanilla anthropology, sociology, economics and psychology.    

Look ma, no hands.

Matt Hardin photo from a recent crit series in St. Louis

 is this the life or what? 

it is

it is    but

sometimes it needs to be shimmed out with a beer can

 s i c k s

The Doppler Effect and or The Placebo Effect

and how it all affects my affect

stick to foreshortening

"the power lines have floaters so the airplanes won't get snagged" **

the sun rising is the sun setting

it all depends on where you're sitting

(there's) always something there to remind me of song lyrics

 * The Boomin’ System    LL Cool J   1990

** Driver 8    REM   1985

one of these kids is doing his own thing

what are you looking at? 

please remain seated until the captain has turned off the chonking sign

securely snug in an over the shoulder DANK diaper holder 

... me, mom & dad

Jeff Kidder's book is now available   and I want to get my hands on it

Chris Murray photo

pill identifier

pilchuck river

pillow washer

pilfering pilferer

pisser water

pilderwasser

one point of view

behind the scenes, the making of the portrait, the real story

     this is a 2012 Raleigh Furley    yes!    word

Soon, very soon, you could be racing your new Raleigh or at least standing next to it, smoking cigarettes in the pits

ask me about my learned helplessness

There goes the neighborhood
Behind blue eyes
Time slows to a crawl
Two blocks north of Yesler
History repeats itself
Monday through Friday
On the Burke-Gilman trail
White shoes before Labor Day       OK
Double strap black sack back pack
Sweat stains dried sodium chloride
Various variations on the theme

Are you my Jimmy John?

orange you glad I didn't say banana?

and many many more RAGBRAI photos from Bill and Chris

wanna go downstairs and watch my RAGBRAI slide show?

is this heaven? click to view

pilderwasser sticker stickers
stickering their way across Iowa
properly placed anatomically correct
taken out of context taken for a ride
on the jersey of rider from southern Illinois
on the north side of a lower back tattoo
on the shirt of a kid helping his dog
eat all the fallen scrambled egg scraps in the yard
sausage gravy biscuits and more gravy
pork tenderloins bigger than your face
pickles pie ice cream pasta salad cinnamon rolls
the corn grows taller there
where all you can eat buffets
warning thunderstorms severe
start town next town meet town small town
pass-through town overnight town end town
downtown uptown
call and response
calling and responding
pilder  ing  --   wasser  ing
beer garden beer belly beer coozie beer me
Orange Whip???
in a gas station parking lot in the shade
under a tree across the street from the beer store
tall boys sweating getting warm
hot hotter hottest   heat index at 120°
one more 30 pack should do the trick
down the road
headwinds heat humidity
road kill
banana peel
pickle juice
butt butter
drop shorts and apply liberally to taint
reapply after heavy perspiration
if irritation develops discontinue use
just this side of catastrophic failure
drive side chain stay   cracked

to quantify a wicked piss
pee in a Gatorade bottle get a visual
32oz at a time
pinch it off and attach a number to it
please make a note of it

Daniel E Murray photo

If there was time for a smooth relaxing transition back into work, I’d be enjoying it right now.

But I guess that’s what the layover in Denver was for.

Too many stories to tell this Monday morning but I’ll get some photos up someday soon and they’ll keep popping up in random places    and when Chris and Bill send me links to the hundreds of shots they took    I’ll put those up too.

Iowa is hot in July

consumed 499 cans of Miller High Life Light

enjoyed one bottle of Big Two Hearted Ale

please hold your holding pattern

I’m going on a little bike ride across Iowa with 12,000 people, it's about 480 miles long  and 500 cans of Milwaukee’s Best deep

please check back      in August

when I return I’ll have some fish tales, a few photos and one wicked T-shirt tan

cheers

  - - - Actual Size - - -

(baby added to show scale)

Monday is a working day

white knuckling at 10 and 2

 the big hand gets closer to the little hand

then it gets further away

completing the circle

returing to the valve hole

drilled for schrader

It’s not about the bottle cage bolts on a Bianchi that was actually made in Italy from Columbus tubes because that’s another story if I could draw your attention briefly to the blue anodized chainring 130 bcd of course bolted to ye olde 600 cranks radiating out at 170mm to two knife edge MKS pedals all the better to slice the shoes with if you actually rode it all daybut I only ride it to Safeway it’s not about the booted and patched second chance another go round renewed life tires only pumped up to 80psi to avoid blowouts on sidewalls worn eversothin by a guy named Scotty Mathauser working dual pivot 600 calipers for years riding sporadically as a legal messenger in and for King County residing in Seattle the rust on the chain is a natural defense mechanism oxidizing in its own way some say it’s a cry for help but I don’t see it that way because Archibald Sharp told me it’s just as efficient OK you can’t see it but visualize the quill stem dunked dipped dropped in the well of another one inch threaded headset repeated repeatedly all over the Pacific time zone during the past 21 years single speed conversion marsala greater than the sum of its parts it’s not a townie if it’s just like all your other bikes.  

VeloNews photo

Chavanel's Merckx

      talking points:

moving forward retrospectively

this little piggy had roast beef

uniform spoke tension

whiter teeth    fresh breath 

NW Legal Messengers

proper paperclip placement

six degrees of Nick Dale

six pack ring collections

free range beer can chicken

auto spell checck 

Portland, Oregon

Bloomington, Indiana

Grinnell, Iowa

Cour d'Alene, Idaho

spf 15 lip balm 

hairball regurgitation 

King County jury summons

175mm octalink cranks

passive solar heating

traffic mitigation devices

talk amongst yourselves

Fletch:  I'm gonna need some wires and a set of 30 weight ball bearings...

Willy:  What the hell you need ball bearings for?

Fletch: Awww, come on guys, it's so simple. Maybe you need a refresher course.  
[leans arm on hot engine part]  Hey! It's all ball bearings nowadays. Now you prepare that Fetzer valve with some 3-in-1 oil and some gauze pads. And I'm gonna need 'bout ten quarts of anti-freeze, preferably Prestone. No, no make that Quaker State.

the Raleigh Lil Push in blue and or pink. The time is now. Now is the time to skip the whole training wheel thing and let the kid Fred Flinstone their way to balance and a lifetime of shredding. It's like riding a bike. Something about white tires rubs me the wrong way which is just one of the reasons my daughter and or son would stick with the blue model rolling on good old black "rubber".

If I put the white tires, grips and saddle on the blue one, my kid would soon insist on wearing skinny jeans and hi-tops and a flat brimmed baseball cap and refuse to wear their helmet when they walked their bike to the coffee shop.   

Urban Renewal by Tim Wistrom

on and around up and coming neighborhood sidewalks
beautiful girls talking to awkward boyfriends
walking shiny fancy fashion accessory bikes

Really?

really

Go faster Mr. Produce Truck Driver

Wait at the red light longer

Lakeview Avenue same time each day

familiar commuters commuting the other way

HP photo

onesie is the new black is the new onesie

you're doing it wrong

87 photo

this bolt is too tight

this bolt is too loose

but this bolt  is just right

a point to make

a point to point b

point no point

pointed dullness

pointed in the right direction 

sexybabymamma photo

it puts the lotion on its skin

or else it gets sunburn again

another year older

another hangover

repeat as needed

    ---SOLD---

where the hell is Grinnell  

once you pop you can't stop

Mason, Brad, Dodge & Dream at Phil's Demo-Party alleycat yesteryear

Erik Jahnz photo

three times around in the revolving door    then
out into a great green Astroturf rumpus room
a gold rotary phone rings hardwired    string

holds down a shiny red balloon   unmistakably
the one from the movie    kid voices speak French
while German subtitles appear on the wall    below

a picture of a painting of a cow jumping over the moon
bolted down securely against gravity in the lobby of Denny’s
Grand Slam breakfast dish runs away with the spoon

to one corner where three little Jerry bears rest
breaking briefly between songs and dancing around
correspondingly colorful musical plastic stacking chairs

on the turf two little kittens recently removed
from mother suckling the thumbs of two little mittens
grandmother knit strung together forever dangling   

the little toy house hinged-roof opens  to reveal
a young mouse anthropomorphically typecast
as if Stuart Little sounds like Michael J Fox

atop the coffee table a Hair Club for Men member’s
clogged comb and brush triangulate  with a
not too hot not too cold just right bowl of mush

everywhere stars fill the air with good night noises
no need to say goodnight         socks walk away
and it’s OK if nobody’s there at 7:00      except

that intimidating librarian looking old lady
saying in a near whispering hush  
this is NPR’s Morning Edition    I’m Bob Edwards

goodnight moon dream  redux   this time it's for real

and still with all due respect to Margaret Wise Brown

they don't have ranch dressing

but they do have excellent beer

lather  rinse  repeat 

there’s a squiggly line in purple chalk on the sidewalk
dividing the confidence that comes with predictability
from the complacency that comes with predictability

coloring outside the lines  that separate
the comfort of routine  from  mind numbing boredom

Moving right along sixty degrees on the compass north by northwest  fifteen sixteenths of the way well almost all the way to the fourth corner as they say. Throw the wheel in the truing stand and rotate one spoke past the valve hole on the non-drive side keeping your eye on the OD   700c  you know   622 bsd.  That would be two hours on an analog clock when the big hand goes around twice and the little hand lands on the 3   you’ll see   are you hungry? how about a healthy slice of sausage & mushroom & olive pizza pie served on a paper plate fold it over and take a bigger big big bite  or an isosceles triangular sharp cheddar cheese wedge of a three and a half story building nestled between Olive Way and Olive Place with its cutest acute angle always pointing up hill.

This is what bike to work day looked like from my perspective at 6:33am. On your left. Right? That light was red, you’re making us all look bad. Whatever     and the bartender says, “Why the long shadow?” All the bike commuters seemed to be going the other way in a fair weather weekday  equivalent of weekend warrior show of force and or free Clif bars and stickers. Don’t get me wrong. As year-round every-single-day bike commuters tend to be independent by nature and rather odd. Perhaps not team players. Black sheep. Ugly ducklings. Boot strap puller uppers. Inscrutable with a tough outer shell. Thick skin some may say crust. Crusty. Crusty like me.

Kim Klein photo

it's Bike-to-Work Day get your ass out there

slept past my stop
forgot to get a transfer
front and center at the foot of the altar
cathedral          stained glass sunbeam
illuminating our lady of what might have been
pinching rosary beads for what will never be
praying patron saint of potential unfulfilled   
racking up credits
on a pinball machine in a dream
feeding the feedback loop
shouldacoulda monster under the bed  
waiting                                 hibernating
another late night visit from the regret fairy
pillow sprinkled with magic indecision dust
                                    hocus    pocus
can’t say no
afraid to say yes
the fence makes the grass look greener
hard deadlines all in my mind
arbitrary expiration date
best if used by September 1997
commitment contract concession
giving up unlimited nights and weekends
offering anytime minutes anytime
replay the relationship conversation
you   
me    
us   
we
never said
it goes without saying 

4/13/09

still feeding the feedback loop sometimes two years later

with inflation a Busch in hand now really is worth two birds 

looking back   back  back

looking forward

IRO Rob Roy single speed steel frame & fork 

57 centimeterish with a short top tube 

giant pilderwasser sticker on downtube

It has many miles on it and miles to go before it sleeps

Cantilever Boss!

the longest chainstays in the world

not even close to toe-overlap

geometry so relaxed it could fall asleep 

fender eyelets

room for giant tires as well as full fenders

the ultimate commuter or slow boat legal messenger 

only $49.99 with proof of a stable household 

includes bottom bracket and headset

other bike parts and memorabilia available as well

***SOLD!***

Where some see a cheesy little zebra print fuzzy girls coat, others see the raw materials with which to make a few new coozies-of-the-month
 

Skunk is 15 years old today

drink another   coin a phrase

if you don't know it's coming

you won't care if it doesn't show up 

a real chip off the old block

CETMA Cargo photo

beer came before this roadside coffee break

and of course beer would follow 

moving forward 
could be construed as counterclockwise
when viewed from the non-drive side

What are you looking at?

it's not about the ridiculous hat

it's about the cutest baby in the world

 or is it the right job for the tool?

not no parkay   not no margarine 

down at dog piss level    it's not about the bike

the check is in the mail, this time it's for real, all roads lead to Grinnell... 

 see CETMA Cargo. Go CETMA Go.

this is P W Murray of New York, New York 

I’m thinking of a color between 1 and 100.
I’m thinking of a color that does not occur in nature.

I am looking at a commuter.
I am looking at a mirror.

Some people wear tyvek STP jackets proudly.
Some people cut them up into little squares and make tire boots.

Some people make neat little sandpaper squares and talk about work.
Some people tear off a piece and get to work.

Sometimes you feel like a nut.
Sometimes you don’t.

Jenny Dailey photo

why wait for a facsimile
a first generation copy

to be scanned digitally enhanced
printed on paper of archival quality

100% of actual size
when the original is right here

the time is now is the time
make a new plan stan   

the rules have changed
new & improved different definitions

see appendix E  paragraph 3.19.11

Who has two thumbs and one new pilderwasser shirt?

(men's medium in a tasteful American Apparel lapis)

...one of the guys down at DANK bags 

(check out the six-pack ring collection stage right)

K Klein photo RAGBRAI 09

The calorie is a pre-SI metric unit of energy. It was first defined by Nicolas Clément in 1824 as a unit of heat, entering French and English dictionaries between 1841 and 1867.^[1] In most fields its use is archaic, having been replaced by the SI unit of energy, the joule. However, in many countries it remains in common use as a unit of food energy.

Definitions of a calorie fall into two classes:

• The small calorie or gram calorie (symbol: cal)^[2] approximates the energy needed to increase the temperature of 1 gram of water by 1 °C. This is about 4.18 joules.
• The large calorie, kilogram calorie, dietary calorie or food calorie (symbol: Cal)^[2] approximates the energy needed to increase the temperature of 1 kilogram of water by 1 °C. This is exactly 1000 small calories or about 4.18 kilojoules.

In an attempt to avoid confusion the large calorie is sometimes written as Calorie (with a capital C). This convention, however, is not always followed, and not explained to the average person clearly (and is sometimes impossible). Whether the large or small calorie is intended often must be inferred from context. When used in scientific contexts, the term calorie refers to the small calorie.

The gram calorie, however, is a very small a unit for use in nutritional contexts. Larger units are therefore used. The kilocalorie (symbol: kcal), being 1000 small calories, is one such unit. The large calorie, usually refered to simply as calorie, is also used. These are equivalent (1 kcal = 1 Cal).^[2] Therefore, in nutritional contexts the calorie and kilocalorie are the same size.

that was all cut & pasted from Wikipedia

caloric intake

on your left

P I photo

clean lines...but no cup holder 

straddling the seamless transition from neither here nor there to everywhere

looking back on what seemed like a good idea at the time

brake pads will wear their way through spray paint eventually

on a trial and error chain tension learning curve

paul‘s rides photo

Utility Cycling is a quality of life issue

it's coming up DANK bags everywhere you go

orange you glad I didn't say banana?

greener grass is not exactly a brick & mortar concept

.

 .

it’s about
here & now
getting your hands
dirty digging ditches
differently
placing postholes
properly because
that’s how it
should be
plumb bobs
hanging
ornamentally
symbolically
functionally
for real
really
.
.
.
.
walking the talk

Mark your Calendar for March 26, 2011       details here 

Bombing down Denny every morning at 8:12am for years and years I know the expansion joint in this photo quite well. It separates the Capitol Hill addresses from downtown literally and figuratively and geographically and metaphorically. Toss in the Denny divide and confusion often arises among rookies and tourists. 

When I was your age it was all big bunny hops over the gap, full of enthusiasm and a colorful show of lifestyle choice for the commuters waiting at the light on Melrose. Ass pocket U-lock rising up half way out of the pocket when I pushed off the pedals and crested the arc. 99% of the time the lock came back to rest in my shorts. I was sans helmet even sans socks in Sidis sometimes stupid.

As I aged it became much more of a subtle un-weighting of the pedals, silently, smoothly clearing the obstacle and to the untrained eye never leaving the ground. Getting the job done efficiently and effectively sometimes even apparently effortlessly. Tim-Mason-like. But those in the know, know it just looks that way sometimes.

I wouldn’t want your job on a day like this.

Getting from 1216 Pine to 300 E. Pine in a matter of minutes.

I am however still fond of  the 1221 E. Pike to 300 E. Pike roundtrip

"I got a sharrow here bro..."

12 x 1.75 tires at 35 psi

pilderwasser sticker stuck

Bologna Sandwiches


A few days ago a friend said “So I assume you like bologna, or at least it doesn’t make you sick.”

His assumption was correct; although I don’t really like bologna, it doesn’t make me sick.

I smiled and agreed with him, but I couldn’t explain why. I began to consider the reasoning behind it all. The motivation, the purpose, the true meaning of bologna. As I discovered the role it plays in my life, it became obvious that there is so much more going on here than just my lunch.

Given the choice between a bologna sandwich and just about any other food I would drop the bologna in a second. However on any given day you can probably find bologna in my refrigerator. I often eat it for lunch and I have eaten it for dinner on many occasions.

Bologna is the bottom line of lunches. It is the slacker of sandwiches. It gets the job done, it exists, it fills the void and that’s about all. One bologna sandwich is much like another. After a while the taste is irrelevant. Bologna takes on the taste of its surroundings: bread, cheese, mustard. Before the sandwich, my stomach is empty, after the sandwich my stomach is not empty. It is not a dining experience, it’s a fill-the-void experience. No thought is invested, no creativity required.

I eat bologna not because I like the taste but because I don’t give it much thought. The process does not begin in the break room where I eat my pasty little sandwich and pretend to be interested in the same old women’s magazines that I’ve read twice before. The process does not begin in my kitchen when I put the sandwich together in a grumpy haze where the preparation of toast and jam for breakfast seems to conflict with the mustard and cheese of lunch. The whole bologna process begins in the grocery store.

This is the place where decisions are made. Choice, variety, options, there is much to choose from and several variables to take into account. By the time I arrive at the store I am ready to leave. The people, the musak, the lighting, the whole scene bothers me. If I make a list I usually leave it at home and end up buying a few random things on my way towards the exit. I know exactly where the bologna is in the grocery store. I know which brands are cheap. I know the turkey bologna from the pork, chicken and beef byproduct bologna. I even know the German style bologna and I do not recommend it. Once I secure the bologna, all I need is bread and I can make lunch for a few days.

It is not for the lack of sandwich knowledge that I stuck with bologna. I know there something better out there. I have tasted it.

If I wanted to I could make a great sandwich with tomatoes, sprouts, lettuce, onions, cucumbers, avocado, turkey, ham, Dijon mustard, mayo and a few paper thin slices of kosher dill piled high on nine-grain bread.

I spent a  couple years making sandwiches for other people. Turkey, ham, roast beef, corned beef, tuna salad, tarragon chicken, BLT, Reuben, hot, cold, toasted, extra mayo, no mayo, no mustard, no lettuce, extra tomatoes, for here and to go. Would you like soup with that? Or maybe a salad? I recommend the tarragon chicken. The tuna salad is excellent, if you like tuna. Would you like that on honey wheat, sourdough, light rye, dark rye or nine grain? Perhaps on a baguette or bagel? And your choice of cheeses: cheddar, swiss, jarlsburg, havarti, cream cheese or no cheese at all.

Before that I worked the graveyard shift in a really bright kitchen making hundreds of sandwiches each night. I made 25 at a time. I was a sandwich machine. Fifty slices of various kinds of bread all laid out, ready for the stuff. It was important to work quickly because the bread, once exposed, would soon dry out in the harsh environment of an industrial kitchen. First I applied the spread, a proprietary mixture of mayonnaise and Dijon mustard, to both slices of bread. (the dijon/mayo ratio was critical) Next, I applied one ounce of cheese per sandwich. The cheese acted as a moisture barrier between the contents of the sandwich and the bread. Then came the meat, two ounces of turkey, ham or roast beef. Finally, tomatoes and lettuce. I had to make sure the lettuce was sliced correctly, not too cole-slaw-thin and not too thick. Then I put the sandwiches together and cut them in half at a flattering 45° angle. A sandwich looks much bigger when the halves are nice isosceles triangles. I placed the sandwich on a polystyrene tray with the sliced surface of both halves facing the same direction, clearly displaying the contents of the sandwich. Finally, I added a garnish. Then shrink wrapped and labeled and priced each one. Then I did it again, and again. I came back the next night and did it a few hundred more times.

It is not for the lack of sandwich knowledge that I am stuck with bologna. I have made enough sandwiches to know that there is something better out there.

Bologna is the baseline. It is the point at which lunch cannot get any lower. In that sense it is comforting. An old friend. A dependable lunch date.

It is not for the lack of funds that I am forced to eat bologna. I am not forced to eat it. I can afford to buy turkey breast, or corned beef, or veggie burgers. I sometimes eat bologna three days in a row, then go out for lunch, order pizza for dinner and spend a week’s worth of grocery money drinking at the bar.

The potential for more is there. It has been there from the beginning and I assume it will be there in a few years. Past experience has proven that something more is possible.

I can talk about it, dream about it, write it down and plan ahead. But it all comes down to a decision, a choice. It takes some thought and a bit of effort. It’s a stretch and then it’s a commitment. When faced with a decision I tend to look way down the road to what I view as the final product, leaving out all the intermediate steps. Most of the time the final product is talked down, discounted and viewed in a poor light. I can talk myself out of something in a second because I make it seem difficult and not worth the effort. Then I fall back on the old standby, the sure thing, good old bologna.

Make a plan for the future and then act on it. Whenever I have a definite plan, an objective, a goal, I have no problem achieving it. However, what I have here is… a failure to plan. Baseline existence. Getting by. Just being. Going through the motions with no goals for the future and no attempt to connect to the grand scheme of things. I have been to the grocery store many times. I can put whatever I want in the cart and buy it. But what do I want?

###

this little ditty was written in 1994 when I lived in Bellingham. It was inspired by eating many lunches in the breakroom at Whatcom Pathology Lab with Dr. J Lonner.

brown bag lunches and a breakroom entered my workday existence once again in 2010.

I still eat bologna sandwiches.

69 photo

This is re-reprinted here again because I finally quit that messenger shit once and for all. Originally published in kickstand six or seven years ago...but   you know, it's that same as it ever was.



When I finally quit this messenger shit, once and for all, I’m going to open a bike shop. A big bright historic space with huge store front windows and high ceilings and wood floors. With passive solar heating in the winter, and well placed shade in the summer. I’m going to work there all the time, six or seven days a week. The shop will be beautiful, stocked with every bike tool ever invented. French, Italian, Japanese, you name it, I will have it, hung neatly on the shop walls. Everything in its place. A place for everything. I will have two Campagnolo Cork Screws with Cherry handles. I will have seven different kinds of bike tool bottle openers. I will have four brands of headset presses. The 3000 square foot work space will have work stands and tools for 5 full-time mechanics, so I can work on 5 of my bikes all at once.  Two air compressors enclosed in sound proof cases. Truing stands bolted down to work benches 42.5 inches off the ground. I will have two Phil Wood spoke cutters/threaders. There will be cement floors and drains built in so I can hose it all down when the kegs overflow or the chainlube explodes or the cat pukes or the shit hits the fan. I will have shop dogs and shop cats. The bike book library will be monumental. The furniture will be well designed, attractive, comfortable and functional. There will be no non-dairy creamer. The coffee will be good. The beer will be cold. There will be wholesale accounts with everyone and everyone. Paul, Phil, Chris, Grant, Brooks, Mavic, Moots, Sachs, Sidi, Swobo. For me and my friends of course.

I will be at work all the time. I’ll show up 5:30am, or 3:00pm, or not at all. I’ll spend the night. I’ll stay for two weeks straight. Or take a week off if I feel like it. However, the shop will not be open to the public. The sign on the door will say “closed”, and if you flip it over it‘ll say “closed”. I’ll also have a large neon CLOSED sign, and it’ll be on all the time, like a beacon of freedom constantly sending its message, at all hours of the day and night. I’ll be in there working hard on my own bikes. Or on poetry, free lance writing, silk-screening, carpentry, cooking breakfast, pondering or drinking beer and pondering. The shop hours will not be posted. The phone will not be connected, so people cannot call and ask about the shop hours. And there will not be any employees because I won’t need any. This will eliminate any potential human relations issues, staff meetings, communication failures, personality problems, scheduling conflicts, and all the junior-high shit that goes along with trying to run a business with employees. Fuck that.

I will be in the shop but I won‘t be selling anything. Retail bullshit will not enter my sphere of existence. The windows will have incredible displays of bicycle art and elegant simple functional bikes because I like window displays. And I’ll spend hours creating them for my own enjoyment, not to attract customers. I‘ll be in the shop, reading the NY Times, listening to Miles Davis, or the White Stripes, or the Minute Men, or Bob Mould, or Guided by Voices, or Modest Mouse, or Guns n Roses or NPR and drinking coffee and beer and beer and coffee. Customers with stupid questions or flat tires or sheepskin seat covers or cracked carbon fiber forks can knock on the door all day long and I might even notice them between Hüsker Dü songs playing on the Bose Wave Radio, but probably not, and if I do, I’ll give them a half smile then get back to my work. My work as a sole proprietor and my work drinking beer and pondering.

The back door will be unlocked and open whenever I am in the shop and friends can stop by and bring their dogs and work on their bikes and add or subtract to the cold beer in the double wide Sub-Zero fridge or hit the bottomless pot of black coffee. The shop will include a beautiful stainless steel commercial sized kitchen. And a sleeping loft and an amazing bathroom with more magazines than a news stand, and I will not have to worry about customers fucking it up, because there will not be any customers.

I could purchase this attractive half-pint container of boiled linseed oil at a high-end art supply store or I could purchase a quart at any hardware store for just a little bit more. Just like buying a fancy green tube of Phil Wood grease at the local bike shop or buying a mondo tub of grease at any auto parts store. Now’s the time to ask yourself, What would Ron Sutphin do? It’s a quick cost-benefit analysis, taking into account margins of utility, unused inventory, hip-cool-trendy-nowness, waste and stupidity. How much boiled linseed oil does a weekend warrior need? Well what weekend are we talking about? Do you think the clerk at the art supply store will chat you up about spoke prep? Or the clerk at the hardware store will want to talk about mixing oil paints? Do you think the threads on your bottle cage bolts know who Phil Wood is? And and and finally,  do you think the guy at Schucks cares if you’re buying a half gallon of multipurpose blue marine grease and you’re wearing your bike helmet in his store?

SpokePrep   it’s what Larry would do

You might say red  you might say blue

I’d say non-drive side  and  then  drive side

learn more at roues artisinales 

this is Mr. Adrian Garcia aka AG who came through with the artwork yesterday after taking good care of all three panels of it and even changing homes with it several times through various zip codes in the Seattle area over the years since CMWC 2003

word

thank you
thank you
thanks again AG

right here  or   there in the shop that produces the finest bike wheels in the world one may occasionally see a retired wire spoke performing tasks that spokes are good for, like fishing in valve holes or letting the air out of tubular tires’ valve extenders or picking turkey out of teeth, as the possibilities follow the versatility and the utility  and  and  and  here’s to the concept the idea the memory and or the theory of driving brass nipples clockwise in the name of uniform spoke tension in and for the County of King residing in Seattle

see Wheel Fanatyk for photo and info on FSA tensiometer

AHTBM hat in situ

this year RAGBRAI rolls through Grinnell and spends the night

"Life is a daily battle against the accretion of tiny entropies"

              like Little Edie said of Grey Gardens  

roadbikereview photo

Hey Mr. Chris Murray

If you put these on your bike, you won't need to ride across Iowa, you'll float. 

World Bicycle Relief utility bike

check the specs

kegerator is a noun that means more of this and this and less of that  

87 photo

Please take a moment to locate the DANK bag nearest you

keep in mind   it may be behind you

 from VeloNews-o-rama

it's Happy Hour every day, just this side of Yuki's Diffusion

Daddy, what’s he doing?

Oh honey, that man is shifting gears.

What?

Those are downtube shifters.

What is down tube?

Well honey, those are another kind of shifter that activate the derailleur to move the chain on the cogset, they’re just a bit antiquated and rather inconvenient when compared to the STI levers you have on your tricycle.

Why is he doing that?

Well honey, he appears to be kind of a retro grouch.

Like Oscar?

Yeah I guess, he’s sort of like Oscar, and he has a thing for steel too.

Chris Murray photo

The longer a bike spends in the pilderwasser household the more it begins to look like all the other bikes around here. People look like their pets. Form fluidly follows function living and working in the margins of utility cycling slowly exorcising the demons of janky bike parts past with a little bit tighter tolerances and different definitions.

A new bike in the stable kick starts a mini tsunami butterfly effect in full  chain reaction cherry picking parts off of other older bikes morphing the new kid on the block until it’s obviously a pilderwasser until it’s one of us as obvious as Stevil’s new bikes sport the stem and bars and saddle and seat post combo in ways very similar from ride to ride. Points of contact relative.  

Port Townsend came to town on Thursday and since then has gone on only brief tweaking test rides around the block and one inaugural beer run but it’s only a short time before it’ll be asked to take over commuter duty full time. Early observations include a solid smooth Cadillac quality ride and excellent action on the cantilever brakes (see disembodied hand shadow bike fence photo)

Avoiding the lack of foresight hasty hacksaw reaction of a younger man I left the steer tube uncut with spacers stacked up like poker chips because I’m still playing around with the stem and bars and lever levels and it seems prudent to put some miles on it before hacking chopping crimping and feruling.

Gave the stock stem and bars a minute of consideration before going with a riser bar because I’m old but not so Aaron’s-Bike-Shop-old where I want my bars above my saddle by a country mile ala Grant Peterson what’s the point of drop bars rising oh so high on a high rise stem?

The bar end shifters bumped down to the downtube in a resourceful use of resources readily available. The pedals never made it past the packaging because it’s personal like the saddle see Selle San Marco.  Plan to give the derailleurs a chance and try the shifting thing for a while because if I strip this bike down to one gear it really will look just like all the other pilderwassers.