My friend used to work in a bike shop and last night she brought over a 5 gallon bucket full of old inner tubes. Then she left.
I counted 67 tubes and each one had at least one puncture. So I made a gallon of green tea and started drinking it. Then I lined up all the tubes and started patching them. Patching each and every one like any good kid at BikeWorks would do. Like any bike mechanic in Cuba would do. Like a poor legal messenger that gave away all his spare tubes to his coworkers would do.
I drank so much green tea and huffed so much rubber cement that I could no longer bend my fingers. I had plenty of glue and could have vulcanized all night but when I got to the 43rd tube I ran out of patches and had to phone a friend to bring more. It was hard to dial the phone without bending my fingers but I did it.
When my friend arrived he said maybe I should open a window and he asked me if I knew what time it was. And I said no because I’d been listening to the same Edie Brickell cassette since I started patching tubes and I couldn’t remember how many times it had played through.
Then my friend went to work and I patched 12 more tubes. Some of the tubes had broken valve stems and could not be repaired. And there were a couple big fat 24 inch tubes that I had no use for, so I put those back in the bucket and took the bucket outside and left it on the sidewalk.
Just a few short months ago I bought a Sim Works Still Cruisin’ bar in a price-is-no-object impulse one-click-away way. As we discussed earlier, way way back in September. But after actually putting some miles on it, and getting a feel for it, I wasn’t feeling it. I spent more on that handlebar than I did on most of my average complete BikeWorks bikes total expenditure. Lesson learned. An integrated stem-bar setup is set up. No tweaking. No adjusting. It is what it is. Until it isn’t.
I’ve swapped out the bar again on the Raleigh that Sally gifted me 15 years ago. Losing count of how many times I’ve changed the stem & bars.
I changed my hairstyle so many times now I don't know what I look like
This time I’m not talking it up too much until I get some riding into it. Until then, when I’ll tell you more about it.
Cat found Jesus and rubberbanded it just so around about 20 years ago. As seen here on her handlebars at 1201. When I say Jesus, I mean a Jesus fish auto emblem you might find at your local WalMart. Or maybe you’ll find one on Third Avenue in a go-back-for-it ground-score sort of kind of way. This photo kicks about in the photographic memory. It resurfaced recently when I texted Cat…
…several days later Cat sent me this shot proving she found Jesus. Again.
Now it’s going full-circle-upcycle recycled on a phantom nostalgia postcard that’s making its way to California. Texts are cool, they’re quick and direct. But you can’t hold a text message in a tactile way. You can’t fold it. You can’t tack it on the wall. You can’t smell it. You can’t notarize a text message. A postcard is hands-on. A postcard is real. Sincerely for real. Really.
Another day. Another phantom nostalgia postcard. This one is on its way to Jeffrey L. Kidder PhD in DeKalb, IL where he’s a sociology professor at Northern Illinois University. Nothing says "happy new year" like a snapshot from yesteryear. Kidder was a bike messenger in Seattle when I took this shot at 1001 of his bike mirrored by 93’s bike just so. Oh so 20 years ago give or take here or there now and then left and right.
If you want to know 'bout the mad punk rockers If you want to know how to play guitar If you want to know 'bout any other suckers You can read it in the Sunday papers Read it in the Sunday papers
Portrait of the artist as a personalized lock screen on a desktop in the breakroom at the mothership. Non dairy creamer added to show scale. A photo of a Todd Galaher photo of Matt Case rolling by City Grind oh so 27 years ago bro.
City Grind still exists in the lobby of City Hall. Just a stone’s throw south of its OG location. There’s also a City Grind within the Henry Art Gallery. I deliver the Henry’s mail everyday and I visit the Henry’s galleries quite often. I will get coffee at City Grind occasionally, depending on where I’m rolling within the academic calendar. It’s very popular with the undergrads and the line sometimes snakes out the door.
The connection is not lost on me and my coffee history. It’s a tenuous connection stretching from the 98104 all the way up to the 98195 but it does exist. Staring at the exact same coffee cup sticker 27 years later brings up some messenger memories. I’ve emailed a few of these photos to Jon the OG owner and Riley the Henry Grind co-owner. They appreciate the history.
